Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Marriage -- Fiction
The French police, with all their acuteness and _finesse_, in the
exercise of which they are far ahead of our blundering English
detectives (and those vile, social-inquisitorial dens of humbug and
area-sneakishness called "Private Inquiry Offices," too) were at fault,
and the game had to be given up. From some papers found amongst the
things he had left behind him at the Rue Montmartre, it was surmised
that Markworth had gone to America; a photograph of himself was also
discovered, which he had had taken with one of his wife--it may be
remembered that Markworth had shown a carte de visite of Susan to Mr
Trump, when he had gone to the lawyers to tell of his marriage, and
claim the reward for the missing girl. These photographs were carefully
preserved by the police, and copies of Markworth's likeness despatched
to various points to secure his arrest in case he put foot on French
ground.
Nothing more could be done, however, by the Juge de Paix or the Chef.
The machinery of justice had been set in motion; and although its wheels
were greased it had to stop working; its _but_ was non-apparent.
The depositions and evidence of the witnesses, who were now released
from surveillance, were preserved until the occasion should arise for
their utility.
Miss Kingscott was a potent pursuer, but the prey had escaped her again:
she had still to wait for vengeance.
In the meantime the body of the girl was kept for burial until word
should be received from England,
The chief of the police had communicated with the mother of Markworth's
victim, having written to the _veuve_ Hartshorne, according to the
address given by Miss Kingscott; the latter personage had also sent her
version of the affair to the widow lady's lawyers, and both were now
awaiting response.
Volume 3, Chapter VI.
THE DOWAGER AROUSED--THE DOWAGER STRUCK DOWN!
Dead!
"What? Susan dead!" She could not believe it; she wouldn't, and that
was a fact. "Stuff and nonsense! don't tell me," she exclaimed; "I
won't believe it."
"But, my dear madam," interposed Mr Trump, who had come down especially
to The Poplars, for the purpose of breaking the news, and considering
what was to be done on receiving Miss Kingscott's letter. "But, my dear
madam, I have received the most satisfactory intelligence about the
unfortunate event, and we must do something."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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