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Updated: June 29, 2025
There was no answer, and the young detective, masking for the nonce as Mr. Grey's confidential servant, jumped into the buggy, and turned the horse's head toward C . The moon was well up when the small boat in which our young detective was seated with Mr. Grey appeared in the bay approaching the so-called manufactory of Wellgood. The looked-for light on the waterside was not there.
A small pebble in the keyhole and why, see now, his horse is walking off! Gee! I must have fastened him badly. I shouldn't wonder if he trotted all the way to town. But it can't be helped. I can not be supposed to race after him. Are you ready now, sir? I'll give another shout, then I'll get in." And once more the lonely region about echoed with the cry: "Wellgood! I say, Wellgood!"
Wellgood, or, as he believed, Sears, knew too much of life to be beguiled by any open clap-trap, and Sweetwater was obliged to see him drive off without having made the least advance in the purpose engrossing him. But that was nothing. He had all the evening before him, and reentering the store, he took up his stand near the sugar barrel.
"Strange!" he muttered, casting a glance at the waiting horse and buggy, then at the lighted window, which was on the second floor directly over his head. "Guess I'll sing out." Here he shouted the man's name. "Wellgood! I say, Wellgood!" No response to this either. "Looks bad!" he acknowledged to himself; and, taking a step back, he looked up at the window.
The train on which he had just come had been a mail-train, and he calculated that he would find half the town there. His calculation was a correct one. The store was crowded with people. Taking his place in the line drawn up before the post-office window, he awaited his turn, and when it came shouted out the name which was his one talisman James Wellgood.
He understood what was in his master's mind, as well as if he had been taken into his full confidence, and openly accepted his part of the business with seeming alacrity, even to the point of supplying Fairbrother with suitable references as to the ability of one James Wellgood to fill a waiter's place at fashionable functions. It was not the first he had given him.
In another moment the sterns of the two small craft swung together, but in such a way that, by dint of a little skilful manipulation on the part of Wellgood's men, the latter's back was toward the moon. Mr. Grey leaned toward Wellgood, and his face fell into shadow also. "Bah!" thought the detective, "I should have managed that myself. But if I can not see I shall at least hear."
Meanwhile Wellgood had seen them and ordered his men to cease rowing. "Give way, there," he shouted. "We're for the launch and in a hurry." "There's some one here who wants to speak to you, Mr. Wellgood," Sweetwater called out, as respectfully as he could. "Shall I mention your name?" he asked of Mr. Grey. "No, I will do that myself."
He had perceived that in the pauses of weighing and tasting, Dick talked; if he were guided with suitable discretion, why should he not talk of Wellgood? He was guided, and he did talk and to some effect. That is, he gave information of the man which surprised Sweetwater.
In my talk with Jones it leaked out as a matter of small moment, and so it was to him, that this Wellgood was the waiter who ran and picked up the diamond after it fell from Mr. Grey's hand." "Ah!" "This may mean nothing it meant nothing to Jones but I inform you of it because there is a question I want to put to you in this connection. You smile." "Did I?" I meekly answered. "I do not know why."
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