Detective and mystery stories; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Mate selection -- Fiction
From Moody’s point of view, there was but one thing to be said of this:
it was just like Old Sharon! Isabel’s letter was of infinitely greater
interest to him. He feasted his eyes on the words above the signature:
she signed herself, “Yours gratefully and affectionately.” Did the
last words mean that she was really beginning to be fond of him? After
kissing the word, he wrote a comforting letter to her, in which he
pledged himself to keep a watchful eye on Sharon, and to trust him with
no more money until he had honestly earned it first.
A week passed. Moody (longing to see Isabel) still waited in vain for
news from France. He had just decided to delay his visit to South Morden
no longer, when the errand-boy employed by Sharon brought him this
message: “The old ‘un’s at home, and waitin’ to see yer.”
CHAPTER XVIII.
SHARON’S news was not of an encouraging character. He had met with
serious difficulties, and had spent the last farthing of Moody’s money
in attempting to overcome them.
One discovery of importance he had certainly made. A horse withdrawn
from the sale was the only horse that had met with Hardyman’s approval.
He had secured the animal at the high reserved price of twelve thousand
francs--being four hundred and eighty pounds in English money; and he
had paid with an English bank-note. The seller (a French horse-dealer
resident in Brussels) had returned to Belgium immediately on completing
the negotiations. Sharon had ascertained his address, and had written to
him at Brussels, inclosing the number of the lost banknote. In two days
he had received an answer, informing him that the horse-dealer had been
called to England by the illness of a relative, and that he had hitherto
failed to send any address to which his letters could be forwarded.
Hearing this, and having exhausted his funds, Sharon had returned to
London. It now rested with Moody to decide whether the course of the
inquiry should follow the horse-dealer next. Here was the cash account,
showing how the money had been spent. And there was Sharon, with his
pipe in his mouth and his dog on his lap, waiting for orders.
Moody wisely took time to consider before he committed himself to a
decision. In the meanwhile, he ventured to recommend a new course of
proceeding which Sharon’s report had suggested to his mind.
“It seems to me,” he said, “that we have taken the roundabout way of
getting to our end in view, when the straight road lay before us. If Mr.
Hardyman has passed the stolen note, you know, as well as I do, that he
has passed it innocently. Instead of wasting time and money in trying to
trace a stranger, why not tell Mr. Hardyman what has happened, and ask
him to give us the number of the note? You can’t think of everything, I
know; but it does seem strange that this idea didn’t occur to you before
you went to France.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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