The Mystery of a Hansom Cab by Fergus Hume (reading diary TXT) đ
- Author: Fergus Hume
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As soon as his station should be sold and he married to Madge he determined to leave Australia, and never set foot on it again. But until he could leave the place he would see no one, nor would he mix with his former friends, so great was his dread of being stared at. Mrs. Sampson, who had welcomed him back with shrill exclamations of delight, was loud in her expressions of disapproval as to the way he was shutting himself up.
âYour eyes beinâ âollow,â said the sympathising cricket, âit is natâral as itâs want of air, which my âusbandâs uncle, being a druggist, anâ well-to-do, in Collingwood, ses as âow a want of ox-eye-gent, being a French name, as âe called the atmispeare, were fearful for pullinâ people down, anâ makinâ âem go off their food, which you hardly eats anythinâ, anâ not beinâ a butterfly itâs expected as your appetite would be larger.â
âOh, Iâm all right,â said Brian, absently, lighting a cigarette, and only half listening to his landladyâs garrulous chatter, âbut if anyone calls tell them Iâm not in. I donât want to be bothered by visitors.â
âBeinâ as wise a thing as Solomon ever said,â answered Mrs. Sampson, energetically, âwhich, no doubt, âe was in good âealth when seeinâ the Queen of Sheber, as is necessary when anyone calls, and not feelinâ disposed to speak, which Iâm often that way myself on occasions, my sperits beinâ low, as Iâve âeard tell soder water âave that effect on âem, which you takes it with a dash of brandy, thoâ to be sure that might be the cause of your want of life, andâdrat that bell,â she finished, hurrying out of the room as the front-door bell sounded, âwhich my legs is a-givinâ way under me throâ beinâ overworked.â
Meanwhile, Brian sat and smoked contentedly, much relieved by the departure of Mrs. Sampson, with her constant chatter, but he soon heard her mount the stairs again, and she entered the room with a telegram, which she handed to her lodger.
ââOpinâ it donât contain bad noose,â she said as she retreated to the door again, âwhich I donât like âem âavinâ had a shock in early life throâ one âavinâ come unexpected, as my uncleâs grandfather were dead, âavinâ perished of consumption, our family all being disposed to the diseaseâand now, if youâll excuse me, sir, Iâll get to my dinner, beinâ in the âabit of takinâ my meals regâlar, and I studies my inside carefully, beinâ easily upset, throâ which I never could be a sailor.â
Mrs. Sampson, having at last exhausted herself, went out of the room, and crackled loudly down the stairs, leaving Brian to read his telegram. He tore open the envelope and found the message was from Madge, to say that they had returned, and to ask him to dine with them that evening. Fitzgerald folded up the telegram, then rising from his seat, he walked moodily up and down the room with his hands in his pockets.
âSo he is there,â said the young man aloud; âand I shall have to meet him and shake hands with him, knowing all the time what he is. If it were not for Madge Iâd leave this place at once, but after the way she stood by me in my trouble, I should be a coward if I did so.â
It was as Madge had predictedâher father was unable to stay long in one place, and had come back to Melbourne a week after Brian had arrived. The pleasant party at the station was broken up, and, like the graves of a household, the guests were scattered far and wide. Peterson had left for New Zealand EN ROUTE for the wonders of the Hot Lakes, and the old colonist was about to start for England in order to refresh his boyish memories. Mr. and Mrs. Rolleston had come back to Melbourne, where the wretched Felix was compelled once more to plunge into politics; and Dr. Chinston had resumed his usual routine of fees and patients.
Madge was glad to be back in Melbourne again, as now that her health was restored she craved for the excitement of town life It was now more than three months since the murder, and the nine daysâ wonder was a thing of the past. The possibility of a war with Russia was the one absorbing topic of the hour, and the colonists were busy preparing for the attack of a possible enemy. As the Spanish Kings had drawn their treasures from Mexico and Peru, so might the White Czar lay violent hands on the golden stores of Australia; but here there were no uncultured savages to face, but the sons and grandsons of men who had dimmed the glories of the Russian arms at Alma and Balaclava. So in the midst of stormy rumours of wars the tragic fate of Oliver Whyte was quite forgotten. After the trial, everyone, including the detective office, had given up the matter, and mentally relegated it to the list of undiscovered crimes. In spite of the utmost vigilance, nothing new had been discovered, and it seemed likely that the assassin of Oliver Whyte would remain a free man. There were only two people in Melbourne who still held the contrary opinion, and they were Calton and Kilsip. Both these men had sworn to discover this unknown murderer, who struck his cowardly blow in the dark, and though there seemed no possible chance of success, yet they worked on. Kilsip suspected Roger Moreland, the boon companion of the dead man, but his suspicions were vague and uncertain, and there seemed little hope of verifying them. The barrister did not as yet suspect any particular person, though the death-bed confession of Mother Guttersnipe had thrown a new light on the subject, but he thought that when Fitzgerald told him the secret which Rosanna Moore had confided to his keeping, the real murderer would soon be discovered, or, at least, some clue would be found that would lead to his detection. So, as the matter stood at the time of Mark Frettlbyâs return to Melbourne, Mr. Calton was waiting for Fitzgeraldâs confession before making a move, while Kilsip worked stealthily in the dark, searching for evidence against Moreland.
On receiving Madgeâs telegram, Brian determined to go down in the evening, but not to dinner, so he sent a reply to Madge to that effect. He did not want to meet Mark Frettlby, but did not of course, tell this to Madge, so she had her dinner by herself, as her father had gone to his club, and the time of his return was uncertain. After dinner, she wrapped a light cloak round her, and repaired to the, verandah to wait for her lover. The garden looked charming in the moonlight, with the black, dense cypress trees standing up against the sky, and the great fountain splashing cool and silvery. There was a heavily-foliaged oak by the gate, and she strolled down the path, and stood under it in the shadow, listening to the whisper and rustle of its multitudinous leaves. It is curious the unearthly glamour which moonlight seems to throw over everything, and though Madge knew every flower, tree, and shrub in the garden, yet they all looked weird and fantastical in the cold, white light. She went up to the fountain, and seating herself on the edge, amused herself by dipping her hand into the chilly water, and letting it fall, like silver rain, back into the basin. Then she heard the iron gate open and shut with a clash, and springing to her feet, saw someone coming up the path in a light coat and soft wide-awake hat.
âOh, itâs you at last, Brian?â she cried, as she ran down the path to meet him. âWhy did you not come before?â
âNot being Brian, I canât say,â answered her fatherâs voice. Madge burst out laughing.
âWhat an absurd mistake,â she cried. âWhy, I thought you were Brian.â
âIndeed!â
âYes; in that hat and coat I couldnât tell the difference in the moonlight.â
âOh,â said her father, with a laugh, pushing his hat back, âmoonlight is necessary to complete the spell, I suppose?â
âOf course,â answered his daughter. âIf there were no moonlight, alas, for lovers!â
âAlas, indeed!â echoed her father. âThey would become as extinct as the moa; but where are your eyes, Puss, when you take an old man like me for your gay young Lochinvar?â
âWell, really, papa,â answered Madge, deprecatingly, âyou do look so like him in that Goat and hat that I could not tell the difference, till you spoke.â
âNonsense, child,â said Frettlby, roughly, âyou are fanciful;â and turning on his heel, he walked rapidly towards the house, leaving Madge staring after him in astonishment, as well she might, for her father had never spoken to her so roughly before. Wondering at the cause of his sudden anger, she stood spell-bound, until there came a step behind her, and a soft, low whistle. She turned with a scream, and saw Brian smiling at her.
âOh, itâs you,â she said, with a pout, as he caught her in his arms and kissed her.
âOnly me,â said Brian, ungrammatically; âdisappointing, isnât it?â
âOh, fearfully,â answered the girl, with a gay laugh, as arm-in-arm they walked towards the house. âBut do you know I made such a curious mistake just now; I thought papa was you.â
âHow strange,â said Brian, absently, for indeed he was admiring her charming face, which looked so pure and sweet in the moonlight.
âYes, wasnât it?â she replied. âHe had on a light coat and a soft hat, just like you wear sometimes, and as you are both the same height, I took you for one another.â
Brian did not answer, but there was a cold feeling at his heart as he saw a possibility of his worst suspicions being confirmed, for just at that moment there came into his mind the curious coincidence of the man who got into the hansom cab being dressed similarly to himself. What ifââNonsense,â he said, aloud, rousing himself out of the train of thought the resemblance had suggested.
âIâm sure it isnât,â said Madge, who had been talking about something else for the last five minutes. âYou are a very rude young man.â
âI beg your pardon,â said Brian, waking up. âYou were sayingââ
âThat the horse is the most noble of all animalsâExactly.â
âI donât understandââ began Brian, rather puzzled.
âOf course you donât,â interrupted Madge, petulantly; âconsidering Iâve been wasting my eloquence on a deaf man for the last ten minutes; and very likely lame as well as deaf.â
And to prove the truth of the remark, she ran up the path with Brian after her. He had a long chase of it, for Madge was nimble and better acquainted with the garden than he was but at last he caught her just as she was running up the steps into the house, and thenâhistory repeats itself.
They went into the drawingroom and found that Mr. Frettlby had gone up to his study, and did not want to be disturbed. Madge sat down to the piano, but before she struck a note, Brian took both her hands prisoners.
âMadge,â he said, gravely, as she turned round, âwhat did your father say when you made that mistake?â
âHe was very angry,â she answered. âQuite cross; Iâm sure I donât know why.â
Brian sighed as he released her hands, and was about to reply when the visitorâs bell sounded, they heard the servant answer it, and then someone was taken upstairs to Mr. Frettlbyâs study.
When the footman came in to light the gas, Madge asked who it was that had come to the door.
âI donât know, miss,â he answered;
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