The Mystery of M. Felix. Farjeon Benjamin Leopold

"Every word on it," I ses. "And yer'll do as yer ordered?" ses the voice. "Yes, I will," I ses. "Mind yer do," ses the voice, "or somethink orful 'll 'appen to yer. You'll be watched the 'ole day long, and if yer let on, look out for yerself. Now set yerself down on the stairs." I did, sir, and though I was froze almost to a stone, I never moved or spoke. It was that dark that I couldn't see a inch before my nose, even when I opened my eyes slyly, but I couldn't 'elp 'earing wot was going on. There was a creeping, and a bumping, and the sound of the street-door being unlocked and the chain being took down. Then everythink was quiet agin inside, and all I 'eerd was a policeman in the street outside, trying the doors as he passed on. When he'd got well out of the street, as near as I could tell, the street-door was opened without as much as a creak, and in another minute I 'eerd a low whistle. Then I got up; it was all a job, sir, 'cause I was cramped, but I managed it, and I crep' to the street-door, and shut it, and locked it, and put the chain up. I was glad enough to do it, I can tell yer, and I felt my way downstairs and got into bed. Aunt 'adn't as much as moved, and nobody knew nothink but me and the burgulers. That's all I know about last night.'

      "It was enough, in all conscience; a strange story indeed, and related by such a common little waif as Sophy. Our reporter had not interrupted her once, but allowed her to proceed, in her own quaint and original way, to the end.

      "'And you have told nobody but me, Sophy?' asked our reporter.

      "'It ain't crossed my lips till this minute,' replied Sophy. 'I don't know wot I might 'ave done if I 'adn't seed you this morning. You spoke civil and nice to me, and I took to yer in a minute. Yer might 'ave knocked me down with a feather when I 'eered arter you'd gone wot the burgulers' little game was, and it come to me in a jiffy that you'd like to know wot 'ad become of Mr. Felix's body. "I'll wait till I see 'im agin," ses I to myself, "and then I'll tell 'im all about it." If you 'adn't come to aunt's to-night I should 'ave come to you.'

      "'I am infinitely obliged to you,' said our reporter, 'We'll keep the matter to ourselves at present, and if there's any reward offered for the recovery of the body, or for any information that may lead to its recovery, it shall be yours, Sophy, every farthing of it.'

      "Sophy's eyes glistened as she said, 'If they arsks me, then, why I adn't spoke before, I'll tell 'em I was too frightened by wot the burguler sed he'd do to me if I sed anythink about it.'

      "'That excuse will do nicely. Did you hear the sound of many feet?'

      "'I think it was only one man as was moving about,' replied Sophy, after a little consideration.

      "'How do we account, then, for there being more than one man concerned in this singular robbery?'

      "'Per'aps there wasn't more than one,' suggested Sophy quickly, 'and in course he 'ad to carry the body. It couldn't walk of itself, being dead.'

      "'Quite so, my young logician-a compliment Sophy. Before you put up the chain, did you look out into the street?'

      "'I didn't dare to.'

      "'Then you don't know if there was a cab or a cart waiting at the door?'

      "'I don't, sir.'

      "'Did you hear the sound of wheels moving away after the door was secured?'

      "'No, I didn't. Everythink was as still as still can be, inside and out.'

      "'There must have been a vehicle of some sort, however, stationed near. A man couldn't carry a dead body through the streets very far without being caught. Perhaps he would not allow it to stand too near your aunt's house for fear of suspicion being excited. The natural conclusion is that a growler was engaged, and that it walked slowly to and fro in a given direction till he came up to it.'

      "'That must 'ave been it, sir.'

      "'If I give you five shillings, Sophy, can you take care of it?'

      "'Rather! But you've done enough for me to-night, sir.'

      "'Not half enough, my girl. Here's the money.'

      "From the expression on Sophy's face she would have liked to resist the temptation, but it was too strong for her, so she took the two half-crowns, saying gleefully as she tied them in her money-box, I shall soon 'ave enough to buy wot I want.'

      "'What is it you desire so particularly, Sophy? A new frock?'

      "'No,' she replied. 'I want a pair of tights.'

      "'In heaven's name, what for?'

      "'To see 'ow I look in 'em.' Sophy glanced down at her legs, then stood straight up and walked a few steps this way and a few steps that, in glowing anticipation of the delights in store for her.

      "'You would like to be an actress, Sophy?'

      "'Wouldn't I? Jest! I can do a lot of steps, sir. Would you like to see me dance?'

      "'Not to-night, Sophy,' said our reporter, thinking of the proprieties; 'I haven't time, and you had best get back as quick as you can to your aunt. I'll see you part of the way. I don't know what excuse you will give her for being absent so long.'

      "'Let me alone for that. It ain't the fust time, and won't be the last.'

      "'Well, come along, my girl.'

      "They left the house without being observed, and our reporter saw Sophy as far as St. Martin's Lane, and then bade her good night. Before returning to his chambers he walked in the direction of the Embankment with the intention of taking a stroll there. It was a favorite promenade of his on fine nights, and on this night in particular he desired it, in order that he might think in the quietude of that grand avenue of the information he had gained. Elated as he was at the progress he was making in the elucidation of the mystery, he could not but be conscious that every new discovery he had made seemed to add to its difficulty. What he wanted now was a tangible clew, however slight, which he could follow up in a practical way. Little did he dream that everything was working in his favor, and that time and circumstance were leading him to the clew he was so anxious to possess.

      "There was one thing in the story related to him by Sophy which greatly perplexed him. The child could not have assisted him to a satisfactory solution, for he was satisfied that she had disclosed all she knew of the events of the night, and he therefore had made no mention to her of the perplexing point. It was this. Sophy had told him that while she was sitting on the stairs with her eyes closed she heard the man unlock the street door and take the chain down. That being so, the question remained-how had he got into the house? Scarcely through the street door, for it was hardly likely that, having got in through it, he would have locked it and put the chain up, and thus created for himself a serious obstacle to his escape in the event of his being discovered before he had accomplished his work. Our reporter could think of no satisfactory answer to this question, and it had to take its place among other questions to which, in the present aspect of the case, no answers could be found.

      "He had turned on to the Embankment by way of Westminster Bridge, and passing under the arch of the Charing Cross Railway bridge, was proceeding onward toward Waterloo when he saw something that caused him to quicken his steps in its direction. Fate or chance was about to place in his hands the link for which he was yearning-a link but for which the mystery of M. Felix might forever have remained unravelled."

      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