Henty George Alfred
The Lost Heir

"How has it happened, nurse? Stop crying and tell us. I am sure that it could not have been your fault, for you are always so careful with him. There is no occasion to be so terribly upset. Of course he will soon be found. The first policeman who sees him will be sure to take him to the station. Now how did it happen?"

"I was walking along Queen's Road, miss," the woman said between her sobs, "and Master Walter was close beside me. I know that special, because we had just passed a crossing, and I took hold of his hand as we went over – when a man – he looked like a respectable working-man – came up to me and said, 'I see you are a mother, ma'am.' 'Not at all,' said I; 'how dare you say such a thing? I am a nurse; I am in charge of this young gentleman.' 'Well,' said he, 'I can see that you have a kind heart, anyhow; that is what made me speak to you. I am a carpenter, I am, and I have been out of work for months, and I have a child at home just about this one's age. He is starving, and I haven't a bit to put in his mouth. The parish buried my wife three weeks ago, and I am well-nigh mad. Would you give me the money to buy him a loaf of bread?' The man was in such distress, miss, that I took out my purse and gave him a shilling, and thankful he was; he was all but crying, and could not say enough to thank me. Then I turned to take hold of Walter's hand, and found that the child had gone. I could not have been more than two or three minutes talking; though it always does take me a long time to take my purse out of my pocket, still I know that it could not have been three minutes altogether.

"First of all, I went back to the crossing, and looked up and down the street, but he wasn't there; then I thought that perhaps he had walked on, and was hiding for fun in a shop doorway. When I could not see him up or down I got regular frighted, and ran up and down like a mad thing. Once I came back as far as the house, but there were no signs of him, and I knew that he could not have got as far as this, even if he had run all the way. Then I thought of the mews, and I ran back there. Master Walter was very fond of horses, and he generally stopped when we got to the entrance of the mews, and stood looking for a minute or two at the grooms cleaning the horses, and I thought that he might have gone in there. There were two or three men about, but none had seen the child. Still I ran on, and looked into several stables, a-calling for him all the time. When he wasn't there, I went well-nigh stark mad, and I ran up and down the streets asking everyone I met had they seen a child. Then I came back here to tell you."

"We shall soon hear of him, nurse. Roberts, do you and William start out at once. Go first to the police station and give notice that the child is missing – he cannot have wandered far – and then do you and James go all round the neighborhood and tell every policeman that you meet what has happened. You can ask in all the shops in Queen's Road and the streets near; he may have wandered into one of them, and as he was alone, they may have kept him until someone came to inquire after him. Now, Netta, will you put on your bonnet and come out with me?"

"Shall I come with you too, Hilda?"

"No, thank you, Miss Purcell. In the first place we shall walk too fast for you, and in the second it would be as well for you to be here to comfort him if he is brought back while we are out. We will come every half-hour to hear if there is news of him. You had better go upstairs and make yourself tidy, nurse, and then you can come out and join in the hunt. But you look so utterly worn out and exhausted that I think perhaps you had better sit quiet for a time; you may be sure that it will not be long before some of us bring him back.

"I could not sit still, Miss Covington," the woman said. "I will just run upstairs and put myself straight, and then go out again."

"Try and calm yourself, nurse, or you will be taken for a madwoman; you certainly looked like one when you came in."

Two minutes later Hilda and her friend started.

"Let us go first into Kensington Gardens, Netta; he often went there to play, and if he came down into the main road, he would very likely wander in. It is probable that nurse may have been longer speaking to that man than she thinks, and that he had time to get a good way before she missed him."

The gardens were thoroughly searched, and the park-keepers questioned, but there were no signs of Walter. Then they called at the house to see whether there was any news of him. Finding that there was not, they again went out. They had no real hopes of finding him now, for Hilda was convinced that he was not in any of the streets near. Had he been, either the nurse or the men would have found him.

"He has, no doubt, been either taken by some kind-hearted person who has found him lost," she said, "and who has either given notice to the police, or he has been taken by them to the police station. Still, it relieves one to walk about; it would be impossible to sit quiet, doing nothing. The others will have searched all the streets near, and we had better go up the Edgware Road, search in that direction, and give notice to any policemen we find."

But the afternoon went on and no news was received of the missing child. It was a relief to them when Dr. Leeds, who had gone off watch for a few hours at twelve o'clock, returned. He looked grave for a moment when he heard the news, but said cheerfully, "It is very annoying, Miss Covington, but you need not alarm yourself; Walter is bound to turn up."

"But he ought to have been sent to the police station long before this," Hilda said tearfully.

"Of course he ought, if all people possessed common-sense; unfortunately, they don't. I expect that at the present moment he is eating bread and jam, or something of that sort in the house of some kind-hearted old lady who has taken him in, and the idea of informing the police has never occurred to her for a moment, and, unfortunately, may not occur for some little time. However, if you will give me the details of his dress, I will go at once with it to the printer's and get two or three hundred notices struck off and sent round, to be placed in tradesmen's windows and stuck up on walls, saying that whoever will bring the child here will be handsomely rewarded. This is sure to fetch him before long."

There was but little sleep that night at General Mathieson's. The master of the house still lay unconscious, and from time to time Dr. Leeds came down to say a few cheering words to the anxious girls. Tom Roberts walked the streets all night with the faint idea of finding the child asleep on a doorstep, and went three times to the police station to ask if there was any news. The first thing in the morning Hilda went with Dr. Leeds to Scotland Yard, and the description of the child was at once sent to every station in London; then she drove by herself to the office of Messrs. Farmer & Pettigrew, and waited there until the latter gentleman arrived. Mr. Pettigrew, who was a very old friend of the family, looked very grave over the news.

"I will not conceal from you, Miss Covington," he said, when she had finished her story, "that the affair looks to me somewhat serious; and I am afraid that you will have to make up your mind that you may not see the little fellow as soon as you expect. Had he been merely lost, you should certainly have heard of him in a few hours after the various and, I may say, judicious steps that you have taken. A child who loses himself in the streets of London is morally certain to come into the hands of the police in a very few hours."

"Then what can have become of him, Mr. Pettigrew?"

"It may be that, as not unfrequently happens, the child has been stolen for the sake of his clothes. In that case he will probably be heard of before very long. Or it may be a case of blackmail. Someone, possibly an acquaintance of one of the servants, may have known that the child, as the grandson and heir of General Mathieson, would be a valuable prize, and that, if he could be carried off, his friends might finally be forced to pay a considerable sum to recover him. I must say that it looks to me like a planned thing. One of the confederates engages the silly woman, his nurse, in a long rambling talk; the other picks the child quietly up or entices him away to the next corner, where he has a cab in waiting, and drives off with him at once. However, in neither case need you fear that the child will come to serious harm. If he has been stolen for the sake of his clothes the woman will very speedily turn him adrift, and he will be brought home to you by the police in rags. If, on the other hand, he has been taken for the purpose of blackmail, you may be sure that he will be well cared for, for he will, in the eyes of those who have taken him, be a most valuable possession. In that case you may not hear from the abductors for some little time. They will know that, as the search continues and no news is obtained, his friends will grow more and more anxious, and more ready to pay handsomely for his return. Of course it is a most annoying and unfortunate business, but I really do not think that you have any occasion to feel anxious about his safety, and it is morally certain that in time you will have him back, safe and sound. Now how is your uncle? I hope that he shows signs of rallying?"

"I am sorry to say there was no sign whatever of his doing so up to eight o'clock this morning, and, indeed, Dr. Pearson told me that he has but little hope of his doing so. He thinks that there has been a slight shock of paralysis. Dr. Leeds speaks a little more hopefully than Dr. Pearson, but that is his way, and I think that he too considers that the end is not far off."

"Your friends, Miss Purcell and her niece, are still with you, I hope?"

"Yes; they will not leave me as long as I am in trouble. I don't know what I should do without them, especially now this new blow has fallen upon me."

"Well, my dear, if you receive any communication respecting this boy send it straight to me. I do not know whether you are aware that you and I have been appointed his guardians?"

"Yes; uncle told me so months ago. But I never thought then that he would not live till Walter came of age, and I thought that it was a mere form."

"Doubtless it seemed so at the time," Mr. Pettigrew agreed; "your uncle's was apparently an excellent life, and he was as likely as anyone I know to have attained a great age."

"There is nothing you can advise me to do at present?"

"Nothing whatever, besides what you have done. The police all over London will be on the lookout for a lost child; they will probably assume at once that he has been stolen for his clothes, and will expect to see the child they are in search of in rags. They will know, too, the quarter in which he is most likely to be found. If it is for this purpose that he has been stolen you can confidently expect to have him back by to-morrow at latest; the woman would be anxious to get rid of him without loss of time. If the other hypothesis is correct you may not hear for a fortnight or three weeks; the fellows in that case will be content to bide their time."

Hilda drove back with a heavy heart. Netta herself opened the door, and her swollen eyes at once told the truth.

"Uncle is dead?" Hilda exclaimed.

"Yes, dear; he passed away half an hour ago, a few minutes after Dr. Leeds returned. The doctor ran down himself for a moment, almost directly he had gone up, and said that the General was sinking fast, and that the end might come at any moment. Ten minutes later he came down and told us that all was over."

CHAPTER XI.
A STARTLING WILL

Mr. Pettigrew at once took the management of affairs at the house in Hyde Park Gardens into his hands, as one of the trustees, as joint guardian of the heir, and as family solicitor. Hilda was completely prostrated by the two blows that had so suddenly fallen, and was glad indeed that all necessity for attending to business was taken off her hands.

"We need not talk about the future at present," Mr. Pettigrew said to her; "that is a matter that can be considered afterwards. You are most fortunate in having the lady with whom you so long lived here with you, and I trust that some permanent arrangement may be made. In any case you could not, of course, well remain here alone."

"I have not thought anything about it yet," she said wearily. "Oh, I wish I were a man, Mr. Pettigrew; then I could do something myself towards searching for Walter, instead of being obliged to sit here uselessly."

"If you were a man, Miss Covington, you could do nothing more at present than is being done. The police are keeping up a most vigilant search. I have offered a reward of five hundred pounds for any news that may lead to the child's discovery, and notices have even been sent to the constabularies of all the home counties, requesting them to make inquiries if any tramp or tramps, accompanied by a child of about the age of our young ward, have been seen passing along the roads. But, as I told you when you called upon me, I have little doubt but that it is a case of blackmail, and that it will not be long before we hear of him. It is probable that the General's death has somewhat disconcerted them, and it is likely that they may wait to see how matters go and who is the person with whom they had best open negotiations. I have no doubt that they are in some way or other keeping themselves well informed of what is taking place here."

The funeral was over, the General being followed to the grave by a number of his military friends and comrades, and the blinds at the house in Hyde Park Gardens were drawn up again. On the following morning Mr. Pettigrew came to the house early. He was a man who was methodical in all his doings, and very rarely ruffled. As soon as he entered, however, Hilda saw that something unusual had happened.

"Have you heard of Walter?" she exclaimed.

"No, my dear, but I have some strange and unpleasant news to give you. Yesterday afternoon I received an intimation from Messrs. Halstead & James, saying that they had in their possession the will of the late General Mathieson bearing date the 16th of May of the present year. I need not say that I was almost stupefied at the news. The firm is one of high standing, and it is impossible to suppose that any mistake has arisen; at the same time it seemed incredible that the General should thus have gone behind our backs, especially as it was only three months before that we had at his request drawn out a fresh will for him. Still, I am bound to say that such cases are by no means rare. A man wants to make a fresh disposition of his property, in a direction of which he feels that his own solicitors, especially when they are old family solicitors, will not approve, and, therefore, he gets it done by some other firm, with the result that, at his death, it comes like a bombshell to all concerned. I can hardly doubt that it is so in this case, although what dispositions the General may have made of his property, other than those contained in the last will we drew up, I am unable to say. At any rate one of the firm will come round to our office at twelve o'clock with this precious document, and I think that it is right that you should be present when it is opened. You will be punctual, will you not?"

"You can rely upon my being there a few minutes before twelve, Mr. Pettigrew. It all seems very strange. I knew what was the general purport of my uncle's last will, for he spoke of it to me. It was, he said, the same as the one before it, with the exception that he had left a handsome legacy to the man who had saved his life from a tiger. I was not surprised at this at all. He had taken a very great fancy to this Mr. Simcoe, who was constantly here, and it seemed to me only natural that he should leave some of his money to a man who had done him so great a service, and who, as he told me, had nearly lost his own life in doing it."

"Quite so," the lawyer agreed; "it seemed natural to us all. His property was large enough to permit of his doing so without making any material difference to his grandchild, who will come into a fine estate with large accumulations during his long minority. Now I must be off."

There was a little council held after the lawyer had left.

"They say troubles never comes singly," Hilda remarked, "and certainly the adage is verified in my case."

"But we must hope that this will not be so, my dear," Miss Purcell said.

"It cannot be any personal trouble, aunt," for Hilda had fallen back into her old habit of so addressing her, "because uncle told me that, as I was so well off, he had only put me down for a small sum in his will, just to show that he had not forgotten me. I feel sure that he will have made no change in that respect, and that whatever alteration he may have made cannot affect me in the least; except, of course, he may have come to the conclusion that it would be better to appoint two men as guardians to Walter, but I hardly think that he would have done that. However, there must be something strange about it, or he would not have gone to another firm of solicitors. No, I feel convinced that there is some fresh trouble at hand."

The carriage drew up at the office in Lincoln's Inn at five minutes to twelve. Mr. Pettigrew had not included Miss Purcell and Netta in the invitation, but Hilda insisted upon their coming with her. They were shown at once into his private room, where some extra chairs had been placed. Colonel Bulstrode was already there, and Mr. Farmer joined his partner as soon as they were seated.

"This is a most singular affair, Miss Covington," he said, "and I need hardly say that it is a matter of great annoyance as well as surprise to Pettigrew and myself. Of course General Mathieson was perfectly free to go to any other firm of solicitors, but as we have made the wills for his family and yours for the last hundred years, as well as conducted all their legal business, it is an unpleasant shock to find that he has gone elsewhere, and I must say that I am awaiting the reading of this will with great curiosity, as its contents will doubtless furnish us with the reason why he had it thus prepared."

Just at the stroke of twelve Mr. Halstead and Mr. James were announced.

"We thought it as well," the former said, "for us both to come, Mr. Farmer, for we can understand your surprise at finding that a later will than that which is doubtless in your possession is in existence, and we are ready to explain the whole circumstances under which it was drawn out by us. General Mathieson came one day to our office. He brought with him the card of Colonel Bulstrode; but this was unnecessary, for some months ago the General was at our office with the Colonel. He was only there for the purpose of fixing his name as a witness to the colonel's signature, as our client, like many others, preferred having a personal friend to witness his signature instead of this being done by one of our clerks."

"That was so," the Colonel interjected.

"General Mathieson," Mr. Halstead went on, "was only in our office a minute or two on that occasion, but of course that was sufficient for us to recognize him when he called again. He told us that he desired us to draw out a will, and that as he had determined to appoint Mr. Pettigrew one of his trustees and guardian to his heir, he thought it as well to employ another firm to draw up the will.

"We pointed out that such a precaution was altogether needless when dealing with a firm like yours, and he then said, 'I have another reason. I am making a change in one of the provisions of the will, and I fancy that Farmer & Pettigrew might raise an argument upon it. Here are the instructions,' I said, 'You will permit me to read them through, General, before giving you a decided answer.' Had the will contained any provision that we considered unjust we should have declined to have had anything to do with the matter; but as it in no way diverted the property from the natural heir, and was, as far as we could see, a just and reasonable one, we saw no cause for refusing to carry out his instructions; for we have known, as doubtless you have known, many similar instances, in which men, for some reason or other, have chosen to go outside their family solicitors in matters which they desired should remain entirely a secret until after their death. Had General Mathieson come to us as an altogether unknown person we should have point-blank refused to have had anything to do with the business; but as an intimate friend of our client Colonel Bulstrode, and as being known to us to some extent personally, we decided to follow the instructions given us in writing. I will now, with your permission, read the will."

"First let me introduce Miss Covington to you," Mr. Farmer said. "She is the General's nearest relative, with the exception of his grandson. These ladies are here with her as her friends."

Mr. Halstead bowed, then broke the seals on a large envelope, drew out a parchment, and proceeded to read it. Messrs. Farmer & Pettigrew listened with increasing surprise as he went on. The legacies were absolutely identical with those in the will that they had last prepared. The same trustees and guardians for the child were appointed, and they were unable to understand what had induced General Mathieson to have what was almost a duplicate of his previous will prepared so secretly. The last paragraph, however, enlightened them. Instead of Hilda Covington, John Simcoe was named as heir to the bulk of the property in the event of the decease of Walter Rivington, his grandson, before coming of age.

Hilda gave an involuntary start as the change was announced, and the two lawyers looked at each other in dismay. Mr. Halstead, to whom the General had explained his reasons for gratitude to John Simcoe, saw nothing unusual in the provision, which indeed was heralded with the words, "as my only near relative, Hilda Covington, is well endowed, I hereby appoint my dear friend, John Simcoe, my sole heir in the event of the decease of my grandson, Walter Rivington, before coming of age, in token of my appreciation of his heroic rescue of myself from the jaws of a tiger, in the course of which rescue he was most seriously wounded."

When he had finished he laid down the will and looked round.

"I hope," he said, "that this will be satisfactory to all parties."

"By gad, sir," Colonel Bulstrode said hotly, "I should call this last part as unsatisfactory as possible."

"The will is identical," Mr. Farmer said, without heeding the Colonel's interjection, "with the one that General Mathieson last executed. The persons benefited and the amounts left to them are in every case the same, but you will understand the dismay with which we have heard the concluding paragraph when I tell you that General Mathieson's heir, Walter Rivington, now a child of six or seven years old, disappeared – I think I may say was kidnaped – on the day preceding General Mathieson's death, and that all efforts to discover his whereabouts have so far been unsuccessful."

Mr. Halstead and his partner looked at each other with dismay, even greater than that exhibited by the other lawyers.

"God bless me!" Mr. Halstead exclaimed. "This is a bad business indeed – and a very strange one. Do you think that this Mr. Simcoe can have been aware of this provision in his favor?"

"It is likely enough that he was aware of it," Mr. Pettigrew said; "he was constantly in the company of General Mathieson, and the latter, who was one of the frankest of men, may very well have informed him; but whether he actually did do so or not of course I cannot say. Would you have any objection to my looking at the written instructions?"

"Certainly not. I brought them with me in order that they may be referred to as to any question that might arise."

"It is certainly in the General's own handwriting," Mr. Pettigrew said, after looking at the paper. "But, indeed, the identity of the legacies given to some twenty or thirty persons, and of all the other provisions of the will, including the appointment of trustees and guardians, with those of the will in our possession, would seem in itself to set the matter at rest. Were you present yourself when the General signed it?"

"Certainly. Both Mr. James and myself were present. I can now only express my deep regret that we acceded to the General's request to draw up the will."

"It is unfortunate, certainly," Mr. Farmer said. "I do not see that under the circumstances of his introduction by an old client, and the fact that you had seen him before, anyone could blame you for undertaking the matter. Such cases are, as you said, by no means unusual, and I am quite sure that you would not have undertaken it, had you considered for a moment that any injustice was being done by its provisions."

"May I ask to whom the property was to go to by the first will?"

"It was to go to Miss Covington. I am sure that I can say, in her name, that under other circumstances she would not feel in any way aggrieved at the loss of a property she can well dispense with, especially as the chances of that provision coming into effect were but small, as the child was a healthy little fellow, and in all respects likely to live to come of age."

"I do not care in the least for myself," Hilda said impetuously. "On the contrary, I would much rather that it had gone to someone else. I should not have at all liked the thought that I might benefit by Walter's death, but I would rather that it had been left to anyone but this man, whom I have always disliked, and whom Walter also disliked. I cannot give any reason why. I suppose it was an instinct, and now the instinct is justified, for I feel sure that he is at the bottom of Walter's disappearance."

"Hush! hush! my dear young lady," Mr. Farmer said, holding up his hand in dismay, "you must not say such things; they are libelous in the extreme. Whatever suspicions you may have – and I own that at present things look awkward – you must not mention those suspicions until you obtain some evidence in their support. The disappearance of the child at this moment may be a mere coincidence – a singular one, if you like – and we shall, of course, examine the matter to the utmost and sift it to the bottom, but nothing must be said until we have something to go on."

Hilda sat silent, with her lips pressed tightly together and an expression of determination upon her face. The other solicitors speedily left, after more expressions of regret.

"What are we going to do next, Mr. Pettigrew?" Hilda asked abruptly, as the door closed behind them.

"That is too difficult a matter to decide off-hand, but after going into the whole matter with my co-trustee, Colonel Bulstrode, with the assistance of my partner, we shall come to some agreement as to the best course to take. Of course we could oppose the probate of this new will, but it does not seem to me that we have a leg to stand upon in that respect. I have no doubt that Halstead & James will retire altogether from the matter, and refuse to act further. In that case it will be my duty, of course, to acquaint Simcoe with the provisions of the will, and to inform him that we, as trustees, shall not proceed to take any further steps in the matter until the fate of Walter Rivington is ascertained, but shall until then administer the estate in his behalf. It will then be for him to take the next step, and he certainly will not move for some months. After a time he will, of course, apply to the court to have it declared that Walter Rivington, having disappeared for a long time, there is reasonable presumption of his death. I shall then, in your name and mine, as the child's guardians, be heard in opposition, and I feel sure that the court will refuse to grant the petition, especially under the serious and most suspicious circumstances of the case. In time Simcoe will repeat the application, and we shall of course oppose it. In fact, I think it likely that it will be a good many years before the court will take the step asked, and all that time we shall be quietly making inquiries about this man and his antecedents, and we shall, of course, keep up a search for the child. It may be that his disappearance is only a coincidence, and that he has, as we at first supposed, been stolen for the purpose of making a heavy claim for his return."

"You may be sure that I shall not rest until I find him, Mr. Pettigrew," Hilda said. "I shall devote my life to it. I love the child dearly; but even were he a perfect stranger to me I would do everything in my power, if only to prevent this man from obtaining the proceeds of his villainy."

Mr. Farmer again interposed.

"My dear Miss Covington," he said, "you really must not speak like this. Of course, with us it is perfectly safe. I admit that you have good reason for your indignation, but you must really moderate your expressions, which might cause infinite mischief were you to use them before other people. In the eye of the law a man is innocent until he is proved guilty, and we have not a shadow of proof that this man has anything to do with the child's abduction. Moreover, it might do harm in other ways. To begin with, it might render the discovery of the child more difficult; for if his abductors were aware or even suspected that you were searching in all directions for him, they would take all the greater pains to conceal his hiding-place."

"I will be careful, Mr. Farmer, but I shall proceed to have a search made at every workhouse and night refuge and place of that sort in London, and within twenty miles round, and issue more placards of your offer of a reward of five hundred pounds for information. There is no harm in that."

"Certainly not. Those are the measures that one would naturally take in any case. Indeed, I should already have pushed my inquiries in that direction, but I have hitherto felt sure that had he been merely taken for his clothes, the police would have traced him before now; but as they have not been able to do so, that it was a case of blackmail, and that we should hear very shortly from the people that had stolen him. I sincerely trust that this may the case, and that it will turn out that this man Simcoe has nothing whatever to do with it. I will come down and let you know what steps we are taking from time to time, and learn the directions in which you are pushing your inquiries."