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Harry Blount, the Detective; Or, The Martin Mystery Solved

Page 6

by T. J. Flanagan


  CHAPTER VI.

  It was nearly noon on the second day following his visit to London, whenHall arrived home. He looked worn and haggard, and Mr. Stafford, whohappened to meet him, made some remark about his looking badly.

  Yes, Mr. Hall supposed he did look pretty bad; he had been bothered mostinfernally with business affairs for the past two days, and now, to makematters worse, he was compelled to go to Dublin to close anotherimportant transaction. Mr. Stafford would oblige him by kindlyexplaining this to the ladies, as he had not a moment to spare, and mustpack up and leave within an hour.

  An hour later Hall was at the railway station, looking considerablyimproved by a shave and change of clothing.

  On arriving at Liverpool he bought a ticket for Antwerp instead ofDublin, and seemed chagrined to find there was no steamer until nextday. So much vent did he give to his annoyance that the attention of thebooking-clerk was specially attracted to him.

  When Hall left the booking-office a quiet looking little man withremarkably bright eyes entered and inquired Hall's name and destination.It was given as Samuel Andrews, for Antwerp! The quiet little man, whomthe usually very independent clerks treated with great respect, thankedthem with a sweet smile, and then went to the nearest police station andconsulted with the inspector, after which he sent several telegrams toLondon.

  The steamer sailed at noon next day, and from early morning the littleman, who was by name Harry Blount, and by profession a detective,sauntered up and down the pier. As the time for sailing drew nearer helooked more anxious and doubtful, but no Hall appeared. Mr. Blountrubbed his nose reflectively as he watched the vessel steaming away,murmured something not very angelic regarding Mr. Hall, asseverated thathe believed himself closely related to several distinct kinds of idiots,and then went back to consult once more with his friend the inspector.

  * * * * *

  Kate Stafford was in the garden the evening after Hall's departure, bookin hand, but not reading. She was thinking of the man who had saved herlife--a dangerous occupation for a young lady engaged to marry anotherman. If she did give a thought to Hall it was of fear and dislike, forin a vague, unreasoning way, she regarded him as the cause of herfather's, and in consequence, her own trouble.

  Hearing the gate shut she looked up, and the blood rushed to her face asshe saw the man of whom she had been thinking coming toward her. Martinwas accompanied by the quiet little man with the sharp eyes, whom heintroduced as a gentleman desirous of seeing her father, and the threeentered the house, where Mr. Blount was introduced to Mr. Stafford.

  Kate left them to change her dress, and it was curious to see what careshe took in selecting the prettiest.

  While she was absent Martin informed Mr. Stafford that Blount was adetective.

  "He is anxious to meet Mr. Hall, and would like to know whatever you cantell him about that gentleman's whereabouts. You will oblige me verymuch by giving him whatever information you can."

  Mrs. Stafford entered just at that moment, and was surprised anddelighted to meet Martin. Not wishing her to be annoyed in the matter,Martin suggested that they had better leave Mr. Stafford and his friendto talk business, and they accordingly adjourned to the drawing-roomwhere Kate soon joined them.

  Mr. Stafford was, of course, surprised to learn that his visitor was adetective, and more so that he should be looking for Hall. However, onbeing informed that Mr. Blount was desirous of finding Mr. Hall for thepurpose of transacting an important piece of business, and that thatgentleman had disappeared from his London address, he gave the desiredinformation.

  "Oh yes!" said Mr. Stafford, much relieved, "Mr. Hall left veryhurriedly yesterday on important business, to be transacted in Dublin."

  "So--Mr. Hall has gone to Dublin, eh!" remarked Mr. Blount reflectively."Hum--well, I'm obliged to you for your kindness. You see, the peoplewho engaged me are very anxious to meet Mr. Hall again, and hisdisappearance from town worried them. Allow me to thank you again, andplease say good-bye for me to Mr. Martin, as I must return at once."

  He had his hand on the door-knob, when turning as though a new idea hadoccurred to him, he continued:

  "Would there be any objection to my looking about Mr. Hall's room? It ispossible I might find some cl--something which would enable me to put mypeople in communication with him."

  "No, I don't know that there is any objection," replied Mr. Stafford,slowly, and led the way to Hall's rooms. In one corner of thedressing-room stood a handsome desk, and after looking carelessly aboutthe rooms Mr. Blount examined this carefully.

  Mr. Stafford stood looking on, hardly knowing whether or not to stop thesearcher. To his relief, however, Mr. Blount stopped after pulling outone or two drawers--behind one of which he found a couple of emptyenvelopes addressed to "Mr. Henry Hall, No. -- Harley St., London." Thesehad evidently been pushed out by other papers.

  After glancing at the address and making a mental memorandum of it,Blount said he would look no further.

  "We shall have to wait until Mr. Hall comes back or writes," he said,and took his departure.

  Going out he met Martin and the two ladies about taking a walk.

  "Well, what luck," asked Martin, who excused himself to the ladies andhastened to meet him.

  "I've found his address in the city and it is there we must try forhim."

  "Then you don't believe in the trip to Dublin?"

  "Not a bit. While so far there's not a morsel of evidence against him,I'm morally certain he was on his way to Antwerp and thence to Amsterdamwith those diamonds, and when he found he was followed doubled back.Come up to-morrow and meet me at Bow Street at noon. Good-bye."

  Martin spent a very pleasant evening with the Staffords. Their nephew,Fred Carden, furnished the topic of conversation for the evening, and itnaturally brought Martin himself somewhat into the conversation--andnever had a narrator a more attentive and enthusiastic audience.

  Knowing nothing about the engagement between Kate and Hall, Martin, whofrom the day he had carried her home had found himself thinking more andmore about her, now noted with pleasure her interest in everything hesaid concerning himself. It was not so much lack of interest concerningher cousin, as increased interest when he spoke of himself.

 

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