The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1884-09-06 00:00:00

CHAPTER Nll.—(Contittue4)

„,neets of manuscript littered the floor :wide Mr,
Mainwaring, and on the table on which Na head
had sunk in the last long sleep that knows no waking
lay a partly-written letter.
"Dear Sampson,” it commenced, "a strange thing
lens just happened me, which, if I were a believer
in the supernatural, I suppose I should look upon as
a warning of some impending evil. Even as it is.
sceptical as I acknowledge myself to be on such
points, I find it difficult to shake off the feeling of
uncanniness which has crept over and subdued me
during the last half-hour. Sitting here in my study,
puzzling out the solution to a problem connected
with a hard matter-of-fact subject that has occupied
my- attention lately, and on which I have promised
to read is paper next week at King's College, I became
suddenly conscious of—l know not what or how—
hut s,neething that disturbed my thoughts, and filled
me with a vague, indefinite sense of unrest for which
I could assign no cause, perceive nothing in my
surroundings nor the nature of my work to account
for. To proceed was impossible, and, putting down
my pen, I walked the room for a few moments,
hoping that bodily exercise might free me from the
weird influence that possessed me. The remedy was
not successful, however. The feeling of oppression
overpowered my strength of will—the air seemed
close and stifling. I opened the casement a little to
admit a breath of the fresher atmosphere from with-
out, and resumed my seat, determined to conquer the
eerie feeling by renewed attention to the labour I
was engaged in. Still to no purpose. The sense of
oppression, of foreboding grew more intense till—
call it fancy, hallucination, what you will—l lifted
my eyes to the window to see that which for the
moment rendered me incapable of either speech or
motion, a white, wan, ghost-like face framed in
one of the panes of glass, with eyes that seemed to
pierce me to the heart with their sadly reproachful,
piteous expression. The features were those of my,
lost wife; and, after a brief pause of stupefied amaze-
ment, I started up and threw open wide the case-
ment and rushed out upon the verandah, to find
nothing but empty space.
"A mere coinage of the brain,' no doubt, you
will say, and such would doubtless be my verdict if
I were called upon to pass one in the case of any
other person. But so cannot I bring myself to think
now. What I have told you will, I know, read very
'baldly, and be quite insufficient to explain the effect
it has produced upon me. That lam quite prepared
for, however, and shall not attempt to dispute.
Enough to say that, with or without reason, I am
convinced the vision was not accorded me for no
purpose. Laugh at my superstition if you will, I
regard it as a summons to meet her upon whom I
passed judgment once and for ever, and learn in a
sphere where deceit is impossible, whether I erred in
casting her off. Can it be possible that I have done
so? One knows! The truth, too, will soon be
manifest to me. Should nothing occur you will not
see this letter; but if my presentiments are more
than idle fancy it will soon to in your hands, to-
gether with my will, of which I have appointed
Sartoris executor with you. You will not, I hope,
object to act, nor to the task I have set you, and—"
Here the letter broke off abruptly, an undecipher-
able scratch of the pen which followed the last word,
denoting that the writer had been stricken down
withouewarning, without a moment even for prayer,
as he was inditine• it.
o Geolrey Mainwaring passed away from the
world in which he had known so little happiness,
and his place knew him no more.
"Disease of the heart, accelerated by a shock to
the nervous system," said the doctors, and a verdict
in accordance with their evidence was returned: for
of course an inquest was held, an account of which
appeared in the daily papers with a long list of
others, including one oa the body of a woman un-
known, who had been taken out of the river at
Battersea. In one of the papers, indeed, a somewhat
fuller account of this latter case was published, con-
taining particulars which would probably have
roused the attention'of Dr. Sampson had they come
under his notice. As it was, however, the coinci-
dence escaped observation.
Mr. Mainwaring's will was short, but perfectly
plain.
After various small legacies to servants and friends,
the whole of his fortune was bequeathed to his
executors, Dr. Sampson and Mr. Sartoris, in trust
for certain purposes which were (dearly set forth
in a letter accompanying the will and addressed
to both gentlemen.
Stripped of all redundancies, the deceased man's
disposition of his property was simply thus:
Oro the wife who had deserted him, should she
ever be found, and providing she was in poverty, an
annuity of one hundred pounds was to Fe paid
quarterly so long as she lived. To the orphan
daughter of a distant cousin a like sum was devised
from the time of his death, to be used for the pur-
pose of educating her till she was of age, when the
money was to be paid absolutely for her own use.
The remainder was left unreservedly to his son,
Leonard Mainwaring, should he ever be found and
his identity satisfactorily proved ,• but in the event
of his fate remaining undiscovered before that time,
on the completion of her majority the orphan already
spoken of, Eveline Trenchard, was appointed
residuary legatee, full powers, however, being given
to the trustees to expend whatever sums they might
meanwhile deem necessary for the due prosecution of
enquiries after the lost heir.
lint as time passed on without affording the
slightest clue by which he might be traced, their
search, pursued diligently enough at first, grew
fainter, and at last ceased altogether, Mr. Sartoris,
. . . _ .

on whom in virtue of his legal exp6rience the greater
part of the task had devolved, demnring at length to
wasting more money over a quest which appealed
altogether hopeless.
An opinion in which Dr. Sampson was forced to
comide until the night of strange adventure into
which he was led by the fog, or, to speak more cor-
rectly on the following ev-3ning, when his conversation
with Alick Wood, and certain hints dropped by that
plausible young gentleman, caused him to indulge in
• hope that the mystery was about to be cleared up,
that he had, in fact, discovered Geoffrey Main-
waring's missing heir in the sick boy he had been
called upon to attend.
There was only suspicion as yet, certainly, no
absolute proof, but the clue was at least worth fol-
lowing up, and it was to obtain his colleague's advice
and assistance in the matter that he again sought Mr.
Sago/is, whol beard his story with some surprise
and not a little disbelief as to the correctness of the
conclusion Dr. Sampson had jumped at so readily.

CHAPTER MIL'
AT I'AULT,
Believe me, sir'
Such prudence as you counsel maybe wise,
'Rut suits not with mine inclination;
I must, nay, will befriend him.
" Wll AT ! Can I trust my eyes? Idling again !"
exclaimed Mr. Sartoris, advancing towards the
doct..nr with out-stretched hand and welcoming smile.
"What lucky wind has blown you to this quarter
con-:'e more? Have Clapham and Wandsworth
ceascd to believe in medicine, orideveloped into dis-
tricts of such abnormal healthiness that it is not
required ?"
"Neither one nor the other," rejoined Dr. Samp-
son, gravely. "I ought to have made a round
this morning instead of flying off here, so you may
guess it is no slight cause that has brought me."
"I am thankful for it, whatever it may be," Mi.
Sartoris answered. " There is nothing wrong,
though, I hope ?"
Wrong Well, no. I only want to consult
-
you.
"With all my heart. But let me say one thing first.
Sampson: don't go to law with anyone if you can
possibly avoid it. That's purely unselfish advice,
and T make you a present of it. If you must—l
need hardly say my services are entirely at your
command, but--"
• 4, Softly, Sartoris !" cried the doctor, stopping him
with a gesture. "I assure you I have not the least
idea of going to law with anyone except yourself, in
whrth case I don't very well see how you could fight
my battle."
"With me! Are you in earnest ?"
"I am not joking, at least. But you will be better
able to judge than I whether such a course is likely
to be necessary when I tell you the cause of my
errand."
"Mysterious, upon any word ?" laughed Mr.
Sartoris, a perplexed look upon his face. "I can't
imagine what upon earth you mean, but you have
certainly succeeded in exciting my curiosity."
gr
" I hope to rouse a stronger feeling yet, Sartoris,"
quietly returned Doctor Sampson, but with such a
grave earnestness that his friend perceived could be
produced by no ordinary matter. "In the first
place, I must ask you a question."
" Go on."

_
"Has anything ever
comeeto your knowledge re-
specting poor Gerty since w
sub j ect ' last spoke upon the
"Good Heavens! is it th he
refers? No. 1 should of courser bYfUr business
But you would not put such -a lu7stvp told you.
reason. What is it? Have you seen x without
i
girl i" e unhappy
"Seen her! I wish I had," Doctor gam,.n_
answered. "No, I have not seen her, nor -irm";
fears are well founded—will she ever be seen
again."