Detective and mystery stories, English; Police -- Fiction; Short stories
I arrived at Southampton by the night-coach--the railway was but just
begun, I remember--and was informed that the best mode of reaching
Beaulieu--Bewley, they pronounced it--was by crossing the Southampton
river to the village of Hythe, which was but a few miles distance from
Beaulieu. As soon as I had breakfasted, I hastened to the quay, and was
soon speeding across the tranquil waters in one of the sharp-stemmed
wherries which plied constantly between the shores. My attention was
soon arrested by two figures in the stern of the boat, a man and woman.
A slight examination of their features sufficed to convince me that they
were Jones and his wife. They evidently entertained no suspicion of
pursuit; and as I heard them tell the boatmen they were going on to
_Bewley_, I determined for the present not to disturb their fancied
security. It was fortunate I did so. As soon as we had landed, they
passed into a mean-looking dwelling, which, from some nets, and a boat
under repair, in a small yard in front of it, I concluded to be a
fisherman's. As no vehicle could be readily procured, I determined on
walking on, and easily reached Beaulieu, which is charmingly situated
just within the skirts of the New Forest, about twelve o'clock. After
partaking of a slight repast at the principal inn of the place--I forget
its name; but it was, I remember, within a stone's-throw of the
celebrated Beaulieu Abbey ruins--I easily contrived, by a few careless,
indirect questions, to elicit all the information I required of the
loquacious waiting-maid. Mr. Lloyd, who seemed to bear an excellent
character, lived, I was informed, at a cottage about half a mile distant
from the inn, and chiefly supported himself as a measurer of
timber--beech and ash: a small stock--the oak was reserved for
government purposes--he usually kept on hand. Miss Caroline, the girl
said, did beautiful fancy-work; and a group of flowers painted by her,
as natural as life, was framed and glazed in the bar, if I would like to
see it. Upon the right track sure enough! Mr. Lloyd, there could be no
longer a doubt, had unconsciously betrayed his unfortunate, guilty
brother into the hands of justice, and I, an agent of the iron law, was
already upon the threshold of his hiding-place! I felt no pleasure at
the success of the scheme. To have bravely and honestly stood up against
an adverse fate for so many years, only to fall into crime just as
fortune had grown weary of persecuting him, and a long-estranged brother
had returned to raise him and his to their former position in society,
was melancholy indeed! And the young woman too, whose letter breathed
so pure, so gentle, so patient a spirit!--it would not bear thinking
about--and I resolutely strove to look upon the affair as one of
everyday routine. It would not do, however; and I was about to quit the
room in no very enviable frame of mind, when my boat companions, Mr. and
Mrs. Jones, entered, and seated themselves at one of the tables. The
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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