CHAPTER XV.

A SINGULAR ADVENTURE ON THE THAMES EMBANKMENT.

"He saw before him, at a distance of some thirty yards, as nearly as he could judge, the figure of a woman standing upon the stone ramparts of the Embankment, close to Cleopatra's Needle. The light of a lamp was shining upon her form, which was stooping forward in the direction of the river.

"It had already been mentioned that the tide on this night was unusually high, and our reporter was apprehensive, from the position of the woman, that she was contemplating suicide. If so she had chosen a favorable moment to put her sad design into execution, for there was no person near enough to prevent her had she been expeditious. She looked neither to the right nor to the left, but down before her on the rolling river. Our reporter hastened his steps, in fear least he should be too late to arrest her purpose.

"Unseen by them another man was approaching the woman, but not so rapidly as our reporter. This was a policeman who had emerged from the shadows of the Waterloo steps on the opposite side, and as, when he started, he was nearer to her than our reporter, they both reached her at the same moment. Each becoming aware of the other's presence, they would have shown recognition of it had not their attention been diverted by a sufficiently startling proceeding on the part of the woman. Still unaware that there were witnesses of her movements, she leaned forward at a perilous angle, and with all her strength threw some heavy object into the water. The force she used destroyed her balance, and she would have fallen into the river had not the policeman and our reporter laid violent hands upon her, and dragged her from her dangerous position on the ramparts.

"'Just in time, thank God!' said our reporter.

"'Just too late,' retorted the policeman. 'A moment sooner, and we should have saved her baby.'

"'Her baby!' exclaimed our reporter.

"'Yes. Didn't you hear the poor thing give a scream?'

"'No.'

"'You must be hard of hearing. First a sob, then a scream. Now, then, own up!'

"He shook the woman roughly, but obtained no response from her. She was cowering to the flagstones, her face hidden in her hands.

"Our reporter is not the stamp of man to stand idly by while the life of a human being is in danger. He stripped off his coat and waistcoat with the speed of lightning.

"'That's your sort,' said the policeman. 'I can't swim; you can.'

"'Not a stroke,' said our reporter, and was about to plunge into the river when the woman sprang up and caught his arm.

"'For God's sake,' she said, trembling with agitation, 'do not risk your life for nothing.'

"'Your baby is drowning,' cried our reporter. 'Let me go!' He strove vainly to extricate himself from her clutch.

"'You shall not, you shall not!' said the woman. 'As Heaven is my judge, I have done no wrong. I have no baby; I came out alone. You are a gentleman. By all that is sacred I speak the truth!'

"'The policeman says he heard a scream.'

"'He is mistaken. I beg you to believe me. Oh, unhappy woman that I am? Have I not one friend in all the wide world?'

"It was not alone her words that carried conviction with them, it was her deep distress, and the evident sincerity with which she spoke. Moreover, now that our reporter had the opportunity of observing her closely, he saw that she was not of a common stamp. There was a refinement in her voice and manner which impressed him.

"'I believe you,' he said, and slowly put on his waistcoat and coat.

"'The chance is lost,' said the policeman, with a scornful smile; 'the poor thing is dead by this time. A put-up job, my man. I wasn't born yesterday.'

"He had noted the dialogue between the woman and our reporter, some portion of which had escaped him, and his suspicions were aroused. He was not entirely without justification. Seeing upon one side of her a policeman, and on the other side a gentleman, the woman, being undoubtedly of the better class, had gravitated naturally toward our reporter. Thus at once was established, without premeditation, a conflict of interests in the eyes of the policeman. He represented the Law, which is invariably more suspicious than sympathetic. Opposing him were two strangers who might be in collusion. Hunting in couples, one of either sex, was a common trick of the criminal classes, with which every policeman is familiar. The officer with whom we are dealing was not of an analytic turn; he jumped rather at conclusions than motives; therefore, he pronounced the verdict first and examined the evidence afterward, or left it to others to examine. All that he was honestly concerned in was the performance of his duty.

"'Did you not hear her say,' said our reporter, 'that she was alone, and no baby with her?'

"'I heard something of the sort,' replied the policeman, candidly, believing it is another matter. 'I believe in my own ears. Are you a confederate of hers?'

"Our reporter laughed, and his laugh strengthened the policeman's suspicions and excited his ire.

"'Perhaps you will both deny,' he said, 'that something was thrown into the river.'

"'I certainly heard a splash,' said our reporter, and he looked at the woman for confirmation, but she said nothing.

"'We'll fish it up, whatever it is,' said the policeman. 'If it isn't a baby--which I say it is, as I heard it cry--it's stolen property. Pretty nigh as bad.' So saying, he blew his whistle.

"The sound terrified the woman; she clung to our reporter.

"'What need is there to summon assistance?' asked our reporter.

"'I know what I'm up to,' replied the policeman. 'I'll trouble you to come to the police station.

"'I intend to do so. Are you going to charge this lady?'

"A grateful sob escaped the woman, produced by the reference to her as a lady no less than by the considerate tone in which it was made.

"'If you're particularly anxious to know,' said the policeman, 'I am going to charge you both.'

"Much amused, our reporter asked, 'What do you charge her with?'

"'First, with drowning her baby; next, with attempting to commit suicide.' He paused in the middle of the sentence to blow his whistle again.

"'And what is your charge against me?'

"'Aiding and abetting. Come,' he said to the woman, putting his hand under her chin and attempting to raise her face to the light, 'let me have a look at you. A hundred to one I've seen you before.'

"He was so rough that the woman cried out.

"'Be very careful,' said our reporter, in a warning tone. 'If you use violence it will go against you.'

"'It will go against you,' retorted the policeman, who was losing his discretion.

"'That is to be seen,' said our reporter, gravely, 'when we reach the police-station. Meanwhile, you are acting outside your right in compelling this lady to look you in the face.'

"'Very well,' said the policeman, surlily, beginning to be shaken by the temperate conduct of our reporter, 'I hear assistance coming; I'll wait.'

"The measured tread of another policeman was heard in the near distance. Our reporter stood still, perfectly calm and self-possessed.

"The woman, now sobbing bitterly, drew her handkerchief from her pocket, and a piece of paper, which she undesignedly and unwittingly drew forth with it, fluttered to the ground. Only the sharp eyes of our reporter saw it, and he stooped and picked it up. He glanced at it without attracting the attention of the policeman, and what he saw both greatly astonished him and influenced his future course with respect to the woman. He felt instinctively that he held in his hand a thread, however slight and slender, in the Mystery of Monsieur Felix.

"Our readers will remember that in certain editions of the Evening Moon we inserted an advertisement referring to the death of M. Felix, but lest the precise terms of that advertisement should be forgotten by them we reprint it here, to refresh their memory. The advertisement ran as follows:

"'The Strange Death of M. Felix, in Gerard Street, Soho. Persons who had private or other interviews with M. Felix between the hours of eight in the morning and twelve at night on the 16th of January, or who are in possession of information which will throw light upon the circumstances surrounding his death, are urgently requested to call at the office of the Evening Moon, at any time after the appearance of this advertisement. Liberal rewards will be paid to all who give such information, and the best legal assistance is offered by the proprietors of this journal, entirely at their own expense, to all, who may desire it and who are in any way interested in M. Felix's death.'

"Up to the present time the advertisement had been productive of no result of any value. A great many persons had called at our office respecting it, but they knew nothing that was likely to be of assistance to us; their aim was to obtain money without giving an equivalent for it. That the step we took, however, was not useless was proved by what our reporter now held in his hand. It was the advertisement, cut carefully from our journal, pasted upon a sheet of note-paper, and framed, as it were, in clear lines of red ink. Surely it was not without reason that the woman had been thus painstaking with this extract. Surely there must be some connecting link between her and M. Felix, whose death and subsequent disappearance were still enveloped in mystery. Thus thought our reporter the moment his eyes fell upon the advertisement.

"The approach of the second policeman afforded him an opportunity of speaking to her concerning it. While the two policemen were talking, the second asking for information, the first giving it, he exchanged a few words with the woman.

"'You have dropped something,' he said.

"She put her hand hastily in her pocket and discovered her loss.

"'I have it,' said our reporter.

"'It is only a piece of paper,' said the woman; 'give it back to me.'

"'You had better let me keep it,' he said. 'You will be charged and searched at the police-station----'

"She interrupted him, saying, in a pitiful voice, 'Will they not let me go--oh will they not let me go?'

"'They will not,' replied our reporter, 'and they are not to be blamed. They are merely doing their duty. You have acted in a way which throws suspicion upon you----'

"'I have done nothing wrong,' she said, interrupting him again; and that she regarded him as being well disposed toward her was proved by her speaking in a low tone, notwithstanding her anguish of mind, 'indeed, indeed I have not!'

"'I believe you; they will not. I will not ask you what you have done; if you confide in me it must be of your own free will; but you may truly believe that I am desirous and willing to be your friend, your sincere and earnest friend. Something more; I may be able to assist you in a manner you little dream of. The paper you have dropped is an advertisement from the Evening Moon, referring to the death of M. Felix.' She shivered at the name, raised her eyes, and dropped them again. This gave him an opportunity of observing that they were of a peculiar and beautiful tinge of blue, and the soft pathetic light they shed touched him deeply. 'Be patient a moment,' he continued; 'I must have a little private talk with you before we get to the police station, and I think I can manage it.' He had seen and recognized the face of the second policeman, who now, as he came forward, greeted him respectfully. 'Your comrade here,' said our reporter, jocosely, 'believes that I am engaged in some unlawful conspiracy. You know who I am. Set his mind at rest.'

"It happened fortunately that this second policeman and our reporter were old acquaintances, and had spent many an hour together in the still watches of the night. A few words whispered in the ear of the first policeman settled his doubts.

"'I beg your pardon, sir,' he said, apologetically, 'but mistakes will happen in the best regulated families.' A remark which denoted that the worthy and zealous officer was not deficient in a sense of humor.

"'A mistake has happened here,' said our reporter. 'I presume that you do not now intend to charge me with aiding and abetting.'

"'Not a bit of it, sir. It was only my joke.'

"'You have a queer way of airing your jokes, but I cannot reasonably complain; you had grounds for suspicion. And now about this lady.'

"'Don't ask me to neglect my duty, sir. I must take her to the station.'

"'She denies that she has done anything wrong.'

"'They all do that, sir.'

"'Do you persist in your charges against her?'

"'Well, sir, about the baby I won't be sure now; it's as likely as not I was mistaken in thinking I heard it scream; but we'll try to prove the rights of the thing. I don't give way, sir, in my belief that she attempted to commit suicide.'

"'I am a properly qualified solicitor,' said our reporter, 'and I shall appear for her, and shall also offer myself as an eye-witness of the affair. I shall support her in her statement that she had no intention of committing suicide.'

"'I can't help that, sir,' said the policeman, with respectful pertinacity, 'I can only report what I saw, and I must do my duty. She nearly fell into the river; I hope you won't deny that, sir.'

"'I will not deny it. You are speaking now quite fairly and temperately, and I hope to bring you round to my view.'

"'To let her off, sir?'

"'Yes.'

"'I can't do it, sir.'

"'But listen to reason. She accidentally lost her balance----'

"'And,' interposed the policeman, 'would have fallen in had it not been for us.'

"'That does not establish a charge of an attempt at suicide.'

"'It must be looked into, sir,' said the policeman, stiffly.

"'It seems to me,' said the second policeman, 'that it all depends upon what it was she threw into the river.'

"Without asking permission our reporter stepped aside with the woman, and spoke privately to her. She had listened to the conversation in an agonized state of mind, turning her eyes alternately to her accuser and her defender with the air of one who was being hunted down. Helpless, despairing innocence was depicted in her face, and the favorable impression she had produced upon our reporter was strengthened. Had she not in his belief been connected in a manner yet to be explained with the Mystery of M. Felix he would have been inclined to champion her cause, and because of this belief he would have ranked himself on her side even if he had supposed that the charges brought against her were true. Without a shade of doubt she was a lady; her attire, although it bore no indications of worldly prosperity, her manners, her speech, unmistakably proclaimed the fact. She was apparently a little over forty years of age, and there were traces of long-endured suffering on her features. In her youth she must have possessed remarkable beauty, which even now could not fail in attracting attention; her figure was slight and graceful, her movements gentle and refined. These signs rendered her appearance at such an hour and under such circumstances sufficiently perplexing, but our reporter was satisfied to trust to the future for a satisfactory explanation of what at present, to a vulgar mind, was full of suspicion.

"In stating that he was a properly qualified solicitor our reporter stated a simple fact. He had served articles in a solicitor's office, and had abandoned that profession for one which possessed greater attractions for him.

"It occurred to him to test her, and he addressed her in French. She replied to him in the same language, but with an accent which put his to the blush. We shall, however, give what passed between them in our native tongue, for the sake of perfect clearness, and in the interests of those of our readers who may not be familiar with any other language than their own.

"'You have not deceived me?' he asked.

"'Indeed, indeed, I have not,' she replied, earnestly. 'I have spoken the truth. You will not desert me?'

"'I will not. You may count upon me as a sincere friend; but you must confide in me implicitly. I will serve you honestly and faithfully. You have met with misfortunes?'

"'Great misfortunes. I am a most unhappy woman!'

"'Have you any other friends in London in whom you would confide in preference to me? If you have and will give me their names and addresses, I will bring them to you.'

"'I have no other friend in this city in whom I can confide.'

"'Not one who can assist you?'

"'Not one.'

"'Are you quite unknown here?'

"'Yes.'

"'But surely you are not entirely alone?'

"She made an effort to speak, but words failed her; she raised her imploring eyes to his face.

"'Strive to master your agitation,' he continued, 'and bend your mind upon the position in which you stand. You heard what the policeman said?'

"'Yes.'

"'Will you tell them what it was you threw into the river?'

"'I cannot tell them. It might injure--it might ruin me.'

"'Was it property of your own?'

"'It was.'

"'To which no person but yourself has a claim?'

"'It was my own; no person but myself has a claim to it.'

"'The loss or recovery of which would injure no one?'

"'No one but myself.'

"'Now, consider. You will be taken to the police station and charged.'

"'But they will let me go until to-morrow?'

"'They will not. If I, a stranger to you, offered bail, it would not be accepted. You will be locked up till the morning.'

"'My God!' cried the woman. 'What will become of her--oh, what will become of her?'

"'Of her? Then you are not entirely alone in this city?'

"'I have a daughter,' she said, in a low, despairing tone. 'She will be distracted if I do not return to her to-night.'

"'As I have explained to you, that is out of the question. If you are not unwilling, I will go to her and explain matters.'

"'No, no!' cried the woman. 'She must not know the truth! What have I done that this misfortune should fall upon me?'

"'I feel deeply for you. If I knew how I could inspire you with confidence in me I should be glad. Look at me and say whether you cannot trust implicitly in me.'

"They gazed at each other in silence for many moments. The policemen, standing apart, did not interrupt them, and as they spoke in French, could not have understood if they had heard what was passing. The woman put out her hand timidly.

"'I will trust you,' she said. 'It may be that the good Lord has sent me a friend when I most needed one. By the memory of all that is dearest to you, do not betray me!'

"'I swear solemnly that I will not.'

"The pressure of her hand seemed to instil faith in her. All the earnestness of her soul was expressed in the words she now spoke.

"'I give into your charge what is infinitely more precious than life--my honor, and my dear daughter's happiness. May Heaven so deal by you as you deal by me!'

"'I am content,' said our reporter.

"At this juncture the first policeman thought he had allowed sufficient time for a decision.

"'Time presses, sir,' he said.

"'Then we had better go to the station,' said our reporter, 'if you persist in your ridiculous charge.'

"'There is nothing else for me to do, sir,' said the policeman.

"'You have no objection to my walking by the side of this lady, keeping yourself out of hearing. I wish to receive instructions from her.'

"'Give me your word, sir, that there will be no attempt at escape.'

"'There shall not be.'

"'It's all right,' said the second policeman, 'you may take the gentleman's word for a good deal more than that. You won't want me.'

"He left them, and our reporter and the woman, preceded by the policeman, who occasionally looked over his shoulder to see that they were following him, walked to the Bow Street Police Station."