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"Well, sur, after you left all of a hurry like, we had a big party in the house, and all the servants 'ad to 'elp; and no sooner did I git in that 'ere house than I beginned to put two and two together, and then I see a hindiwidual that I beginned to think wur mighty like that 'ere ghost." "And who was that?" "Why, that 'ere hancient wirgin, Miss Staggles." "Ah, what then?"
"You will be thankful, Gertrude Forrest, some day that I do care for you," Miss Staggles continued, "although I never expect to get any reward for my kindness." By this time the train was going rapidly, and so loud was the roar it made that I heard only the growling of Miss Staggles' voice without distinguishing any words. Indeed, I was very glad I could not.
"'True, says he, 'but I want to know how things are goin' on. Then he stopped a minit, and a thought seemed to strike him. 'Miss Staggles, my friend, he says, 'watch her closely, and meet me here on New Year's Day, at five o'clock in the evening. It's dark then, and everybody will be indoors." "Then, yer honour, they went away together, and I was on the look-out for you all day yesterday."
Why should Miss Staggles be so willing to help Herod Voltaire, and what were the designs in his mind? What was his purpose in getting at a correct estimate of Miss Forrest's character? I went to the house pondering these things in my mind, and, arriving there, heard the hall clock strike the quarter, from which I knew it was a quarter past six.
"I should like," said Miss Staggles, "to hear what Mr. Blake, the Thomas of the party, has to say to it." There was an ugly leer in the old woman's eye as she spoke, and the thought struck me that Voltaire had been making friends with her. "Yes," said Voltaire; "I am sure we should all like to know whether Mr. Blake is convinced." "I am convinced that Mr. Kaffar has a good memory," I said.
Miss Staggles also sat near, as grim and taciturn as ever. "It is nearly twelve o'clock," I heard Voltaire say, "and he's not here. He dare not come; how dare he? He has left the country, and will never return again." "But I am here," I said distinctly. They all turned as I spoke, and Miss Forrest gave a scream.
Why should Miss Staggles pose as a ghost, even at the instigation of Voltaire? There could be nothing gained by it, and yet I was sure that it was not without meaning. Somehow it was connected with Voltaire's scheme; of that I was sure, but at the time my mind was too confused to see how.
Do what I would I could not repress a start, for, to my surprise, I saw my travelling companions enter with Miss Temple Gertrude Forrest looking more charming and more beautiful than ever, and beside her Miss Staggles, tall, gaunt, and more forbidding than when in the railway carriage. It is no use denying the fact, for my secret must sooner or later drop out.
"How many?" "There's Miss Forrest, her aunt, and Miss Staggles, besides a gentleman that came early in the evening." "That gentleman's name is Herod Voltaire," I said. "Yes, sir, that's the name. Well, I'll do as you wish me." I followed the servant, while Simon kept fast hold on Kaffar.
This was said in a harsh, thick voice. "I see you are here, Miss Staggles," said the younger lady very coolly. "I did not intend coming at first, but your aunt, poor silly thing, said you would not take your maid with you, and so I thought it would be a sin for a young girl like you to travel alone to Yorkshire on a day like this." "Yorkshire?" I thought.
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