Adventures of Martin Hewitt, Third SeriesMorrison, Arthur
General
Adventures of Martin Hewitt, Third Series
Morrison, Arthur
Detective and mystery stories, English; Private investigators -- England -- Fiction
“It was while things were in this state, and about six or seven
weeks ago, that, walking toward Cricklewood one morning, I saw a
little fellow trotting along all alone, who actually startled
me--startled me very much--by his resemblance to our poor little one.
The likeness was one of those extraordinary ones that one only finds
among young children. This child was a little bigger and stronger
than ours was when he died, but then it was older--probably very
nearly the age and size our own would have been had it lived. Nobody
else was in sight, and I fancied the child looked about to cry, so I
went to it and spoke. Plainly it had strayed, and could not tell me
where it lived, only that its name was Charley. I took it in my arms
and it grew quite friendly. As I talked to it suddenly Dr. Bailey’s
suggestion came in my mind. If any child could deceive my poor
husband, surely this was the one. Of course I should have to find its
parents--probably through the police; but why not at any rate take it
to Willesden in the meantime for an hour or so? I could not resist
the temptation--I took the first available cab.
“The result of the experiment almost frightened me. My poor husband
received the child with transports of delight, kissed it, and laughed
and wept over it like a mother rather than a father, and refused to
give it up for hours. The child of course would not answer to its
strange name at first, but he seemed an adaptable little thing, and
presently began calling my poor husband ‘daddy.’ I had not been so
happy myself for months as I was as I watched them. I had told Dr.
Bailey--what I fear was not strictly true--that I had borrowed the
child from a friend. At length I felt I must go and take the boy to
the police, and with great difficulty I managed to get it away, my
poor husband crying like a child. Well, I took the little fellow to
the station I judged nearest to where I found him, and gave him up to
the care of the inspector. But I was a little frightened at having
kept him so long, and gave a false name and address. Still, I learned
from the inspector that the child had been inquired after, and by
whom.
[Illustration: “DADDY!”]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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