CHAPTER LVIII. FRIENDS TO THE RESCUE.

Sophy and I were lying on two couches placed so that my eyes could rest upon her face. A day and a night had elapsed since our rescue, and I had gained strength surprisingly. With the help of Bob I had dressed myself in the afternoon, and seeing that the exertion had nearly exhausted me he insisted upon my lying down on a couch. I, on my part, upon learning that Sophy had also with assistance dressed herself, in "spick and span new clothes," as she afterwards informed me, insisted feebly but firmly that she should be brought into my room, so there we were, gazing at each other, and rapidly recovering from the terrible ordeal through which we had passed. Warm baths, an entire change of clothing, rest in a soft bed--surely the clean sheets were the most delicious that mortal ever lay between--nourishing food, and the blessed sense of safety, had done wonders for us. Bob had refused with stern kindness to give me any account of his movements until I was in a fit condition to listen to him, and it was not until this day that he consented to place me in possession of the facts. His statement, up to a certain point, will be best explained in his own words.

"Two days having passed," he said, "without hearing from you, I became anxious. The last letter I received from you was written in Monkshead, and in it you informed me that you were going farther on, but you did not mention the name of the place for which you were bound. As you had left Monkshead, it was useless my wiring or writing to you there, so I was compelled to wait your pleasure. Of course, in these circumstances, one always thinks that a letter has gone wrong, and as no other arrived I inferred that you had given me some information of your movements in the supposed missing letter, without which I had no idea what to do. At length I came to the conclusion that you had returned to London, and I determined to follow you. Even if I did not see you there, I might learn from your family or friends something which would enlighten me as to where you were, and what you were doing. Your family had not heard from you, and as they did not appear in any anxiety concerning you, I said nothing, you may be sure, that would cause them alarm. Then I sought an interview with the lady whose cause you espoused, and whom should I meet with her but M. Bordier. He was the soul of politeness, and I could not fail to be impressed by the radiant happiness which shone in the lady's face. I ascribed this joyful expression to the document which M. Bordier had found in the secret drawer of the desk, the particulars of which he had jealously concealed from me. Neither he nor the lady had heard from you. 'We hope to see him soon,' the lady said, 'to thank him for his wonderful kindness to us.' Before I left them M. Bordier drew me aside, and expressed a hope that I would do nothing to make public what had transpired with respect to the purloining of the desk, and the discovery of an important document in it. 'I assure you,' he said, 'that it is entirely a private matter, and that publicity would cause the deepest pain to unoffending persons.' I replied that I should do nothing of my own accord, and that the matter rested with you, and you alone. He thanked me, and we parted."

I interrupted Bob here. "Did M. Bordier make no reference to a trial in which he had been involved?"

"Nothing."

"Have you read of no trial in which his name appears?"

"No. Let me finish first; you will have plenty to tell me when I have done. From M. Bordier I went to the office of the Evening Moon, and was equally unsuccessful in obtaining news of you. Somewhat puzzled I made my way back to the neighborhood of Tylney House, and thence went on to Monkshead. I had no particular fears for your safety, but I resolved, if possible, to track you. It was only on the second day of my arrival at Monkshead that I obtained news which led me to believe you had gone to Deering. Away I posted to Deering, and there I learned that you had gone to Glasserton, on what errand was not known. The landlord's daughter had shown you a short cut through the woods. I took the high road, as less likely to mislead me: but I may mention that before I started from Deering the girl who directed you informed me that only you and a young girl had gone to Glasserton. What, then, had become of Crawley? At Glasserton I heard that two persons answering to the description of you and Sophy had been in the village, that you had remained but a few hours, and had then started back toward Deering. I immediately returned to Deering, but you had not reappeared there. It was then that a fear of foul play flashed upon me; it was then and then only that I began to fear for your safety. There had been a mysterious murder committed in Deering Woods, and the murderer was committed for trial----"

"My God!" I cried.

Strange as it may appear, I had not until this moment thought of the murder which had been perpetrated in the woods. Heaven knows it was not from indifference that this lapse of memory had occurred to me, and I can only ascribe my forgetfulness to the intensity of my misery for several days past, during which I had been completely and entirely engrossed in the frightful sufferings I had endured. But now Bob's reference to the foul deed brought Gerald Paget's peril to my mind. I was so terribly excited that Bob caught hold of me in alarm, for I had started from my couch and was swaying to and fro on my feet.

"In Heaven's name," exclaimed Bob, "what is the matter with you?"

"Do not ask questions," I said, speaking with feverish haste, "but answer mine, and follow any instructions I may give you. The murderer is committed for trial, you say. Has the trial taken place?"

"It is taking place now," replied Bob, speaking as rapidly as I did; the contagion of my excitement had seized him. "The Assizes are on."

"What is the time?"

"Five minutes past four."

"When did the trial commence?"

"This morning, I heard."

"Is it over?"

"I do not know."

"Will it take you long to ascertain how it is proceeding?"

"I might do it in half an hour."

"Do it, in less time if you can, I am not mad, Bob; I am as sane as you are. This is a matter of life and death, and, God forgive me, I have allowed it to escape me. One more question. You have not spoken of Dr. Peterssen. Where is he?"

"In prison, under arrest."

"That is good news. Go now, quickly--and send the landlord up to me immediately, with some telegraph forms."

He hastened from the room, and in a very short time the landlord made his appearance. The vital necessity of immediate action had inspired me with strength of mind if not with strength of body, and my mental powers were quickened and sharpened by the crisis. I had settled upon my plan of action, and when the landlord handed me the telegraph forms I wrote the messages I wished to send with celerity and clearness. The most urgent and lengthy of these telegrams was addressed to M. Bordier, and in it I implored him to come to me without a moment's delay, and to bring Emilia with him. I told him that the husband whose death Emilia had so long mourned was now on a trial for murder of which he was innocent, that I had been mercifully rescued myself from a cruel death and held in my hands proofs of Gerald Paget's innocence, and that my case would be strengthened by the presence of Emilia and himself. I requested him to acknowledge my telegram the instant he received it, and to say when I might expect him to join me; it was imperative that there should not be the least delay, and he was to spare no expense in attending to my instructions. In addition to this telegram I despatched messages to my mother, to the editor of the Evening Moon, and to Mrs. Middlemore. Without further detail I may say that I did everything in my power to bring the persons to my side whose presence I considered necessary for the work before me, and my despatches were winging to London before Bob returned. He reported that the case for the prosecution was not yet concluded, that it was expected that the defence would be brief, and that the summing up of the judge would occupy some time. It was almost certain that the verdict would not be delivered until to-morrow. Counsel had been deputed by the judge to defend the prisoner, who throughout the trial had maintained a strange silence, which some ascribed to obstinacy, and others to aberration of intellect. Having heard what Bob had to say, I addressed a letter to the counsel for the defence, urging him at the adjournment of the case, to call upon me immediately, as I had news to communicate to him of the highest importance to the prisoner. My letter despatched, there was nothing more to do for at least a couple of hours, and I consented to listen to the completion of Bob's narrative. When he heard that a murder had been committed in Deering Woods fears for my safety flashed upon him, and he went to see the body of the murdered man. He was greatly relieved to find that the body was that of a stranger--(it must be borne in mind here that he had never set eyes on M. Felix during that man's lifetime)--but it did not dispel his fears. I had started back to Deering through the woods, and from that moment neither I nor Sophy had been heard of. He determined to remain on the spot and keep watch about the woods, in the hope of discovering what had happened to me. The idea of foul play between Deering and Glasserton had taken morbid possession of him, and he did not attempt to banish it. Day after day he searched and watched without result, until one night he saw a man walking stealthily through the woods with provisions he must have purchased somewhere in the neighborhood. The stealthy movements of this man aroused Bob's suspicions, but although he followed him warily the man suddenly disappeared. This circumstance strengthened Bob's suspicions, and, with or without reason, he now came to the conclusion that the man, whose movements proclaimed that he was engaged in an unlawful proceeding, had something to do with my disappearance. He hired two men to watch with him, and at length his efforts were rewarded. The man was seen again at night creeping stealthily through the woods; again he disappeared at the same spot as on the previous occasion. It was at the edge of the fallen cliffs that this took place, and the men Bob had hired, who were more intimate with the locality than their employer, pointed out a downward track which bore marks of having been recently used. This track was noiselessly followed, with the result already recorded. Sophy and I were saved.

"I did not come an hour too soon," said Bob, when he had concluded his story.

"Not an hour, Bob. I believe I could not have lived another day."

A telegram was brought into me. It was from M. Bordier: "We shall be with you to-night. Have not informed Mrs. Paget of the particulars. Not advisable to agitate her unnecessarily. Decide when we meet." Other telegrams were also brought to me, and I learned from them that my sister, a friend on the staff of the Evening Moon, and Mrs. Middlemore would also soon be with me. Bob had been thoughtful enough to arrange for the despatch of news from the court in which the trial was taking place. Seven o'clock, eight o'clock, nine o'clock, and the court was still sitting. The Judge was summing up, and had expressed a desire that the trial should be finished that night.

"He is of the opinion," I said to Bob, "that the jury will not be long in giving their verdict."

"It looks like it," said Bob.

"Does this strike you as guilty or not guilty?"

"Guilty," replied Bob.

A note was here delivered to me from the counsel for the defense: "I cannot leave the court. The Judge will soon finish his summing up, which is unfavorable to the prisoner. He anticipates a rapid decision on the part of the jury, and a verdict of guilty. If your news is really of importance and, advantageous to the prisoner, come to the court immediately."

I gave the note to Bob to read, and rose.

"Sophy," I said, "are you strong enough to come with me? I am going to the court."

"I'm ready," said Sophy.

"Yes, Agnold," said Bob, "you must go."

He ran down, and by the time we reached it a trap was waiting for us.

"Have a couple of traps in waiting," I said to him, "and the moment the persons I expect arrive bring them to the court. Especially Mrs. Paget, M. Bordier, and Mrs. Middlemore, and send also any telegrams that may come."

"Depend upon me, Agnold," said the good fellow. "Not a point shall be missed." He waved his hand as we drove away, and called out, "Good luck!"

And now I must encroach upon the columns of the Evening Moon for a description of the events of this agitating night. A cooler head and a steadier hand than mine have made the record, and all that I have to do is to vouch for its accuracy.