Henty George Alfred
Dorothy's Double. Volume 1 of 3

'Will you give me the hour as well as the day at which you say my daughter called here?' Mr. Hawtrey said sternly.

'My own impression is that it was about three o'clock,' the jeweller said, after a moment's thought.

'Will you call your assistant and ask him?'

Mr. Williams being summoned said that he had no distinct recollection as to the precise time, but that it was certainly somewhat early in the afternoon. He had returned from lunch about two, and it was not for some little time after that that Miss Hawtrey called; he should say it was between three and half past three.

'That will be near enough,' Mr. Hawtrey said. 'You shall hear from me again shortly, Mr. Gilliat; I know that I can rely upon you to say nothing in the meantime to anyone on the subject.'

'Certainly, Mr. Hawtrey.'

'Now, Dorothy, let us be going.'

Dorothy at the moment was unable to follow her father; she had sunk down in a chair, pale and trembling; her look of intense surprise had given way to one of alarm and horror, and it was not until she had drunk some water that the jeweller brought her, that she recovered sufficiently to take her father's arm and walk through the shop to the carriage.

'Well, Dorothy,' Mr. Hawtrey said, as they drove off, 'what does all this mean?'

'I have not the least idea, father; I am utterly bewildered.'

'You still say that you did not go to the shop – that you did not examine those tiaras and choose two of them?'

'Of course I say so, father. I have never been in the shop since I went about that pearl. Surely, father, you cannot suspect me of having stolen those things.'

'I am the last man in the world to suspect you of anything dishonourable, Dorothy, but this evidence is staggering. Here are two men ready to swear to the whole particulars of the incident. They are both sufficiently acquainted with your appearance to be able to recognise you readily. They can even swear to your dress. That you should do such a thing seems to be incredible and impossible, but what am I to think? You could not have done such a thing in your senses; it would be the act of a madwoman, especially to go to a shop where you are so well known.'

'But why should I have done it, father? I could not have worn them without being detected at once.'

'You could not have worn them,' her father agreed, 'but they might have been turned into money had you great occasion for it.'

Dorothy started.

'Do you mean, father – oh, surely, you never can mean that I could have stolen those things to turn them into money in order to satisfy the man who has been writing those letters?'

'No, my dear. I don't mean that myself, but that is certainly what anyone who did not know you would say. There, don't cry so, child,' for Dorothy was sobbing hysterically now; 'do not let us talk any more until we get home. We have got the day and hour at which you were supposed to have been at Gilliat's. Perhaps we may be able to prove that you were engaged somewhere else, and that it was impossible you could have been at Gilliat's about that time.'

Nothing more was said until they reached home.

'You had better come into my study, Dorothy; we shall not be disturbed there. Now, dear,' he said, 'let us have the matter out. I can only say this, that if you again give me your assurance that you are absolutely ignorant of all this, and that you never went to Gilliat's on the day they say you did, I shall accept your assurance as implicitly as I did before; but before you speak, remember, dear, what that entails. These people are prepared to swear to you, and will, of course, take steps to obtain payment for these things. If such steps are taken the whole matter will be gone into to the bottom. Remember everything depends on your frankness. It will be terribly painful for you to acknowledge that, after all, you had got into some entanglement, and that you did in a moment of madness take these things in order to free yourself from it. It would be terribly painful for me to hear this, but upon hearing it I should of course take steps to raise this twenty-five hundred pounds, for at present I do not happen to have so much at my bankers, and to settle Gilliat's claim. But even painful as this would be it would be a thousand times better than to have all this gone into in public. On the other hand, if you still assure me that you know nothing of it I must refuse to pay the money, both because to do so would be to admit that you took the things, and because, in the second place, whoever has taken these tiaras – for that some one has done so we cannot doubt – may again personate you and involve us in fresh trouble and difficulties.'

'I did not do it, father; indeed I did not do it. I have had no entanglement; I was in no need of money; I have never been near Gilliat's shop, unless, indeed, I was altogether out of my mind and did it in a state of unconsciousness, which I cannot think for a moment. I have worried over this until I hardly knew what I was doing, but I never could have gone to that shop and done as they say without having a remembrance of it. Why, the last place I should choose if I had ever thought of stealing would be a place where I was perfectly known. Indeed, father, I am altogether innocent. I cannot account for it, not in the least, but I am sure that I had nothing to do with it.'

'Then, my dear, I will not doubt you for another moment,' Mr. Hawtrey said, kissing her tenderly. 'Now we just stand in the same position as we did in regard to the other affair; we have got to find out all about it. In the first place, get your book of engagements, and let us see what you were doing on the afternoon of the 15th.'

Dorothy went out of the room and soon returned with a pocket book.

'Not satisfactory, I can see,' Mr. Hawtrey said, as he glanced at her face.

'No, father; here it is, you see – "Lunch with Mrs. Milford;" nothing else. I remember about that afternoon now. I drove in the carriage to Mrs. Milford's, and had lunch at half-past one; there was one other lady there. Mrs. Milford had tickets for a concert, at St. James's Hall I think it was, but I am not sure about that. I had a headache, and would not go with them; and, besides, I had some shopping to do. I got out of her brougham in Hanover Square. I went into Bond Street certainly, and I got some gloves and scent; then I went into Cocks' and looked through the new music and chose one or two pieces, then I went into the French Gallery. Mrs. Milford had been talking about it at lunch, so I thought I would drop in. There were very few people there, so I sauntered round and sat down and looked at those I liked best. It was quiet and pleasant. I must have been in there a long time. When I came out I took a cab and drove straight home. It was six o'clock when I got back, and I remember I went straight up to my room and had a cup of tea there, then I took off my gown and my maid combed my hair, as it was time for me to dress for dinner. My head was aching a good deal and it did me good. We dined at the Livingstones' that evening.'

'It is unfortunate, certainly, Dorothy. I had hoped we might have been able to have fixed you somewhere that would have proved conclusively that you could not possibly have been at Gilliat's that afternoon. As it is, your recollections do not help us at all, for your time from somewhere about three till six is practically unaccounted for. The people you bought the gloves and scent from could prove that you were there, but you probably would not have been many minutes in their shop. Cocks' may remember that you were there a quarter of an hour or so.'

'I think I was there half-an-hour, father.'

'Well, say half-an-hour; the rest of the time you were really in the picture gallery, but it is scarcely likely that, even if the man who took your money at the door or the attendant inside noticed you sufficiently to swear to your face, they would be able to fix the day, still less have noticed how long you stayed. At any rate it is clear that it would be possible for you to have done all you say you did that afternoon and still to have spared time for that visit to Gilliat's.'

'I see that it is all terrible, father, but what can it all mean?'

'That is more than I can understand, Dorothy. At present we are face to face with what seems to me two impossibilities. I mean looking at them from an outsider's point of view. The one is that these shopmen should have taken any one else for you when they are so well acquainted with your face, and are able to swear even to the dress. No less difficult is it to believe that did you require money so urgently that you were ready to commit a crime to obtain it, you would go to the people to whom you were perfectly well known, and so destroy every hope and even every possibility of the crime passing undetected. One theory is as difficult to believe as the other. Those letters were a mystery, but this affair is infinitely more puzzling. I really do not know what to do. I must take advice in the matter, of course. I would rather pay the money five times over than permit it to become public, but who is to know what form this strange persecution is to take next?'

'Do you think there is any connection between this and the other, father?'

Mr. Hawtrey shook his head. 'I do not see the most remote connection between the two things. But there may be; who can say?'

'I would rather face it out,' Dorothy said, passionately. 'I would rather be imprisoned as a thief than go on as I have been doing for the last six weeks; anything would be better. Even if you were to pay the money the story might get about somehow, just as the other did. Then the fact that you paid it would be looked upon as a proof that I had taken the diamonds. Who will you consult, father?'

'My lawyers would be the proper people to consult, undoubtedly; but they were quite useless before, and this is wholly out of their line, I think. I will take a hansom and go across to Jermyn Street, and see if I can find Ned Hampton in. I have great faith in his judgment, and no one could be kinder than he has been in the matter. You don't mind my speaking to him?'

'Oh, no, father. I would rather that you should speak to him than to any one.'

Captain Hampton was in and listened in silent consternation to Mr. Hawtrey's story, and for a long time made no answer to the question.

'I can make neither head nor tail of it, Ned. What do you think?'

At first sight it seemed to him that this story explained the meeting he had seen opposite the Agricultural Hall. She had either turned the diamonds into money or had handed them over to this man to buy his silence. Then his faith in Dorothy rose again. It was absolutely absurd to suppose for a moment that she should have thus committed a crime which must be certainly brought home to her, and which would ruin her far more than any revelations this man might make could do.

'It is an extraordinary story, Mr. Hawtrey,' he said, at last; 'even putting our knowledge of your daughter's character out of the question, is it possible to believe that any young lady possessed of ordinary shrewdness would go to a place where she was well known, and, have acted in the way that she is reported to have done?'

'It would certainly seem incredible, Ned, but here are two or three people prepared to swear that she did do so, and that they identified her by her dress as well as by herself.'

'We must look at the matter in every light, Mr. Hawtrey; however confident you may feel of her innocence, we must look at it from the light in which other people will regard it. They will say, of course, that Miss Hawtrey had urgent need of money for some purpose or other, and will naturally suppose that reason to be her desire to silence the author of those letters. They will say, that although she would of course know that the bill would be sent in to her father, she would be sure that he would rather pay the money than betray her sin to the world.'

'I quite see that,' Mr. Hawtrey agreed, 'but if she had been driven to desperation by this fellow, why did she not come direct to me in the first place, instead of committing a theft to drive me to pay, when she might be pretty sure in some way or other the facts would leak out, and do her infinitely more harm with the world than any indiscretion committed years ago could do? Besides, had she done it for this purpose, would she not have carried through that course of action, and when the bill came in have implored me to pay it without question, and so save her from disgrace and ruin?'

'That certainly is so,' Captain Hampton said, as his face brightened visibly; 'the more one thinks of it the more mysterious the affair seems. I should like to think it all over quietly. I suppose you will not go out this evening?'

'Certainly not. There will be no more going out until this mystery has been cleared up. It has been hard enough for Dorothy to bear up over her last trouble, but it would be out of the question for her to go into society with this terrible thing hanging over her.'

'Then I will come round about nine o'clock. I shall have had time to think it over before that.'

Captain Hampton's cogitations came to nothing. He walked up and down his little room until the lodger in the parlour below went out in despair to his club. He tried the effect of an hour's stroll in the least frequented part of Kensington Gardens. He drove to Mr. Slippen's to inquire if any clue had been obtained as to Truscott's movements. He ate a solitary dinner at his lodgings and smoked an enormous quantity of tobacco, but could see no clue whatever to the mystery. The meeting he had witnessed was to him a piece of evidence far more damning than that of the jeweller and his assistants. If she could explain that, the other matter might be got over, though he could not see how. If she could not explain it, it was evident that he had nothing to do but to advise her father to settle the business at any cost.

CHAPTER VII

At nine o'clock Captain Hampton called at Chester Square and was shown into the drawing-room, from which, as previously arranged, Mr. Hawtrey had dismissed Mrs. Daintree, telling her that he had some private matters to discuss with Ned Hampton.

Mrs. Daintree had retired tearfully, saying that for her part she preferred hearing nothing about this painful matter – meaning that of the letters, for she was ignorant of the later development.

Dorothy looked flushed and feverish. Her eyes were large and brilliant, and there was a restlessness in her manner as she shook hands with her old friend.

'Well, Ned,' she asked, with an attempt at playfulness, 'what is your verdict – guilty or not guilty?'

'You need not ask me, Dorothy. Even the evidence of my own eyes would scarcely avail to convince me against your word.' Then he turned to her father. 'I have done nothing but think the matter over since you left me, and I can see but one solution – an utterly improbable one, I admit – but I will not tell you what it is until I have spoken to Miss Hawtrey. Would you mind my putting a question or two to her alone?'

'Certainly not, Ned,' said Mr. Hawtrey, rising.

But Dorothy exclaimed: 'No, no, father, I will not have it so. I don't know what Captain Hampton is going to ask me, but nothing that he can ask me nor my answers could I wish you not to hear. Please sit down again. There shall be no mysteries between us, at any rate.'

'Perhaps it is best so,' Captain Hampton agreed, though he felt the ring of pain in the girl's voice at what she believed to be a sign that he doubted her. 'I am willing, as I said just now, to disbelieve the evidence of my own eyes on your word. I am determined to believe you innocent. It is impossible for me to do otherwise. But there is one matter I want cleared up. On the fifteenth of last month – that is the day on which these things were missed – I saw a lady so exactly like you in face and in dress that I should under any other circumstances be prepared to swear to her, speaking to the man Truscott, in the Liverpool Road, Islington. This was at about half-past four in the afternoon.'

A look of blank wonderment passed across Dorothy's face as he spoke, and then changed into one of indignation.

'I was never in Islington in my life, Captain Hampton; I never heard the name of Liverpool Road that I know of. I have never seen this man, Truscott, since that day at Epsom. And you have believed this? You believe that I would meet this man alone, for the purpose, I suppose, of bribing him to silence? I have been mistaken in you altogether, Captain Hampton. I thought you were a friend.'

'Stop, Dorothy,' her father said, authoritatively, as with her head erect she walked towards the door, 'you must listen to this; it is altogether too important to be treated in this way. We must hear what Captain Hampton really saw, and he will tell us why he did not mention the fact to me before. Sit down, my dear. Now, Captain Hampton, please tell it to us again.'

Ned Hampton repeated his story, and then went on,

'You know I went suddenly out of town, Mr. Hawtrey. That I had been mistaken never once occurred to me. Up to that time I had never for an instant doubted your daughter's assertions that she knew nothing as to any letters in the possession of Truscott. That morning, as you may remember, I mentioned before you the name of the place where he was to be found, and when, as I thought, I saw her with him, it certainly appeared to me possible that after the dread Miss Hawtrey expressed of appearing in a public court to prosecute him, she might, in a moment of weakness, have gone off to see the man, to warn him of the consequences that would ensue if he continued to persecute her, and to tell him that unless he moved he would in a few hours be in custody. I thought such an action altogether foreign to her nature, but I own that it never for a moment occurred to me to doubt the evidence of my own eyes, especially as the person was dressed exactly as your daughter had been when I saw her that morning. That the person I saw was not her I am now quite ready to admit. In that case it is morally certain that the person who took away those jewels was also not her; and this strengthens the idea I had before conceived, and which seemed, as I told you, a most improbable one, namely, that there is another person who so closely resembles your daughter that she might be mistaken for her, and, if so, this person is acting with the man Truscott. Should this conjecture be the true one it explains what has hitherto been so mysterious. The letters were designed to injure your daughter in public estimation, and to prepare the way for this extraordinary robbery, which would enrich Truscott as well as gratify his revenge. What do you think, Mr. Hawtrey?'

'The idea is too new for me to grasp it altogether, Ned. Until now there seemed no possible explanation of the mystery. This, certainly, strange and improbable as it is, does afford a solution.'

'Well, father, I will leave you to talk it over,' Dorothy said, rising again, 'unless Captain Hampton has seen me anywhere else and wishes to question me about that also. And I think, father, that it will be much better in future to put the matter altogether into the hands of a lawyer; it would be his business to do his best for me whether he thought me innocent or guilty. At any rate, it is more pleasant to be suspected by people you know nothing about, than by those you thought were your friends.' Then without waiting for an answer she swept from the room.

'No use stopping her now,' her father said, shrugging his shoulders; 'it is not often that I have known Dorothy fairly out of temper from the time she was a child, but when she is it is better to let her cool down and come round of herself.'

'It will be a long time before she comes round as far as I am concerned,' Captain Hampton said. 'I am not surprised that she should be indignant that I should have suspected her for a moment, but I don't see how I could have helped it. I saw her, or someone as much like her as if it was herself in a looking-glass, talking to this man Truscott, the very day when we had for the first time found out where we were likely to lay hands on him. What could anyone suppose? I did not think for a moment that she had done anything really wrong, or even, after what she had said, that he could hold letters of any importance; but she had evidently so great a dread of publicity that, as I say, it did strike me she had gone to meet him in order to warn him, and perhaps to get back any trumpery letters he might have had, stolen from her or from some one else. I did think this up to the time when you told me of this affair at the jeweller's. That seemed so utterly and wholly impossible that I became convinced there must be some entirely different solution, if we could but hit upon it, and the only idea that occurred to me was that of there being some one else exactly like her, and that this person, whoever she is, has been used by Truscott both to injure your daughter and to obtain plunder.'

'I don't see how you could have helped suspecting as you did, when you saw Truscott speaking with some one whom you did not doubt being Dorothy. Had I been in your place and witnessed that meeting, it seems to me that I must have doubted her myself. Though I am her father, I own that I did doubt her for a moment this morning when I heard the story at Gilliat's; but let us leave that alone for a moment, Ned; the pressing question is, what am I to do?'

'I will give no opinion,' Captain Hampton said firmly; 'that must be a question for you and Miss Hawtrey to decide. If my conjecture is right, and this man, Truscott, and some woman closely resembling your daughter are working to obtain plunder on the strength of that likeness, you may be sure that this successful coup they have made will only be the first of a series. On the other hand, you have not a shadow of evidence to adduce against Gilliat's claim; there is simply her assertion against that of two or three other people, and if he sues you, as, of course, he will if you do not pay, it seems to me certain that a jury would give the verdict against you – unless, of course, we can put this other woman and Truscott into the dock. Should such a verdict be given, although some might have their doubts as to this extraordinary story, the public in general would conclude that Miss Hawtrey was a thief and a liar. There is no doubt that your daughter's advice is the one to be followed, and if I were you I would go to Charles Levine, the first thing in the morning, lay the whole case before him, and put yourself in his hands.'

'I will do so, Ned. Should I mention to him that you saw her, as you thought, with Truscott?'

'That must be as you think fit, sir. I don't think I should do so unless it were absolutely necessary. He does not know your daughter as we do, and would infallibly put the worst construction upon it. I should confine myself to the story of the letters and the jewels, stating that you believe there is a connection between them, and that, as you implicitly believe Miss Hawtrey's word, the only conclusion you can possibly come to is that the person who visited Gilliat's was some adventuress bearing a strong resemblance to her, and trading on that resemblance.'

'But how about the dress, Ned?'

'If it was, as I take it, a preconceived plot, carefully prepared, one can readily conceive that Miss Hawtrey's movements had been watched and that a dress and bonnet closely resembling hers had been got in readiness.'

'It is an ugly business, Ned,' Mr. Hawtrey said, irritably. 'You and I believe Dorothy to be innocent, but the more one looks at it the more one sees how difficult it will be to persuade other people that she is so. However, I will see Levine in the morning. He has had more difficult cases in his hands than any man living.'

'That is the best thing you can do, sir. Now I will say good-night. You know where I am to be found, and I must ask you to write to me there and make an appointment for me to meet you if you want to see me. I shall still do what I can in the matter, and shall spare no efforts to endeavour to trace this man Truscott, and if I can find him it is probable that I shall be able to find the woman; but please do not let Miss Hawtrey know that I am taking any further part in the matter. She is deeply offended with me, and from her point of view this is perfectly natural. She thinks I ought to have trusted her and believed in her in spite of any evidence whatever, even that of my own eyes, and she is naturally extremely sore that one whom she regarded as a close friend should not have done so. I regret it deeply myself, but seeing what I saw – '

'You could not help doing so, Ned,' Mr. Hawtrey broke in warmly; 'as I told you I should have doubted her myself. Do not worry yourself about that. When she thinks it over she will see that you were in no way to blame.'

'That will be a long time first,' Captain Hampton said, gravely; 'situated as she is, and harassed as she has been, it is very difficult to forgive a want of trust on the part of those in whose faith and support you had implicit confidence. I shall be very glad if you will let me know what Levine advises.'

'That I will certainly do. I will write to you after I have seen him and had a talk with Dorothy. There is the affair with Halliburn, which complicates the whole question confoundedly. I wish to goodness he would start for a trip to China and not come back until it is all over. It is lucky that that they have got a serious debate on to-night in the Upper House, and that he was, as he told us when he called this afternoon, unable to go to the Alberys; if it hadn't been so he would have been here by this time, to inquire what had occurred to make us send our excuses at the last moment. He will be round here the first thing after breakfast. Well, good night, Ned, if you must be going.'

On reaching his lodgings Captain Hampton found a boy sitting on the doorstep.

'Halloa,' he said, 'who are you? Out of luck, and want something to get supper with, I suppose?'

'I wanted to speak to you, Captain,' the boy said, standing up.

'Why, you are the boy from Slippen's; have you got any news for me?'

'No, Captain, I ain't come on his account, I have come on my own. I have left Slippen for good.'

'Well, come up stairs; we can't talk at the door. Now what is it?' he asked, as he sat down.

'Well, sir, it is just this: I have left Slippen. You see, it was this way: I was a-watching a female party and she wur a good sort. I got up as a crossing sweeper, and she never went across without giving me a penny and speaking kind like, and one day she sent me out a plate of victuals; so I didn't much like the job, and when Slippen wanted me to say I had seen a bit more than I had, I up and told him as I wasn't going to. Then he gave me a cuff on the head and I gave him some cheek, and he told me to take myself out of it and never let him see my face again, so you see here I am.'

'I see you are. But why are you here?'

'Well, you see, Captain, you allus spoke nice to me over there, and I says to myself, "If I was ever to leave the governor, that is just the sort of gent as I should like to work for." I can clean boots with any one, and I could run errands, and do all sorts of odd jobs, and if you still want to find that chap I was after I would hunt him up for you all over London.'

'You are quite sure, Jacob, that you have done with Mr. Slippen? I should not like him to think that I had taken you away from him.'

'I ain't a-going back to him no ways,' the boy said, positively, 'not even if he would have me; and after what I said to him he would not do that. He called me a blooming young vaggerbond, and I says to him, "Vaggerbond yourself, ain't you wanting to make up false evidence agin a female? You are worse nor a vaggerbond," says I. "You are just the worst kind of a spy," says I, "and a liar at that." Then I had to make a bolt for it, and he arter me, and he run nigh fifty yards before he stopped; that is enough to show how mad he wor over it. First of all I thinks as I would go to the Garden, and take to odd jobs and sleeping under the waggons, as I used to do afore I took up with him. Then I says to myself, "There is that Captain Hampton; he is a nice sort of gent. I could get along first-rate with him if he would have me."'

'But those clothes you have got on, Jacob; I suppose Slippen gave you those?'

'Not he; Slippen ain't that sort; he got the clothes for me, and says he, "These 'ere clothes cost twenty-two bob. I intend to give you half-a-crown a week, and," says he, "I shall stop a bob a week for your clothes." I have been with him about half a year, so we are square as to the things.'

'But how did you live on eighteenpence a week?'

'I got a bob now and then from people who came to Slippen. When they knew as I was doing the watching for them they would tip me, so as to give me a h'interest in the case, as they said. I used to reckon on making two bob a week that way, so with Slippen's eighteenpence, I had sixpence a day for grub. I have got my old things wrapped up in the cupboard. I used to use them mostly when I went out watching. I can get them any time; I have got the key. I used to have to let myself in and out, so I have only got to watch till I see him go out, and then go in and get my things, and I can leave the key on the table when I come out.'

Captain Hampton looked at the boy for some time in silence; it really seemed a stroke of good luck that had thrown him in his way. There was no doubt of his shrewdness; he was honest so far as his ideas of honesty went. He wished to serve him, and would probably be faithful. He himself felt altogether at sea as to how to set about the quest for this man and the unknown woman who must be his associate. Even if the boy could be of no material assistance, he would have him to talk to, and there was no one else to whom he could say anything on the subject.