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Girls of St. Wode's

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<h2 id="chapter-xxxihandwriting."><a>CHAPTER XXXI—HANDWRITING.</h2> After Annie and Leslie had left him, Mr. Parker returned to his office. There were two or three candidates still waiting for the vacant post of secretary. One of his clerks came to inquire what was to be done with them. “I cannot see them,” was the reply. “You may as well say that the matter is practically settled, and that there is no use in any of them waiting.” The clerk withdrew, and Mr. Parker began to pace up and down the length of his room. “Well, bless my soul!” he said; “I cannot make out what all this means. There is a mystery somewhere. Why won’t Leslie Gilroy confess the truth? Well, if I don’t get to the bottom of this thing my name’s not Charles Parker. I believe—yes, I cannot help believing—that somehow the girl is innocent; but appearances are much against her.” He opened a certain drawer in a cabinet which stood behind his desk, took from it a letter, and began to read. The letter ran as follows: <blockquote> “Dear Mr. Parker: “I am in great trouble and perplexity. I have got into a terrible scrape here, and only you can get me out again. I dare not confide in mother; you alone can help me. Will you give my friend, Annie Colchester, sixty pounds for me, and will you give it in notes  and gold? I will never do what I have done again if only you will trust and forgive me this time. I cannot imagine how I have been led into these terrible debts; but I can only say I will never incur another. Please give the money to Annie at once, for the matter is most urgent. “Your affectionate friend, “Leslie Gilroy.” </blockquote> “There,” said the good merchant to himself, “there is her own letter—her own statement in black and white. She got into a scrape, went in debt, and wanted me to give her money. Well, if it were only debt—the ordinary girlish wish to possess herself of fal-lals and finery—why, I could forgive the child. There’s a look on her face which makes it hard for any man to withstand her; but the thing is this: she has not made a full statement; she did not want money for ordinary debts; she had another reason, and she would not divulge it. Why did she write to me as she did? What can be up? ’Pon my word! I feel quite frightened. There’s that mother of hers, the best of good women, and that noble young fellow her brother, and the rest of ’em; plenty of character, plenty of go, plenty of spirit, nothing mean or underhand about one of them; and there’s Leslie, whom all the rest look up to as the straightest of the straight and the best of the best, and who has about the most open face I ever looked into; and yet, if this letter is true, she is a sly, cunning little rogue, as sly and cunning as can be. I pity the mother, that I do: but there, is the girl guilty? Isn’t there some explanation of this extraordinary mystery?” Mr. Parker looked again at the letter, then he folded it up and was about to put it back into his cabinet when he saw the paper on which Leslie had scribbled her request to him that day, lying on the floor. He stooped and picked it up, and the next moment his red face had turned  pale, for Leslie’s scribble, carelessly written as it was, seemed to him to be written in a decidedly different hand from that of the letter. A moment later, all eagerness, quite trembling with excitement, the shrewd man of business was comparing both writings. There was a strong resemblance; most of the capitals were formed in the same way, but there was also a distinct difference. With pursed-up lips and a wise shake of his head, Mr. Parker slipped the letter and the scrap of paper into his pocket, and left the office. On his way out he spoke to his head clerk: “Hudson, don’t expect me back to-day. I shall return at my usual hour to-morrow.” “Something has happened to annoy the chief very considerably,” thought the clerk to himself as Mr. Parker’s back disappeared through the doorway. A moment later the great tea-merchant found himself in the street, the next he had hailed a hansom, and given the address of Mrs. Gilroy’s house in West Kensington. “I could go by train, but a hansom will take me quicker,” he muttered to himself. “I hope to goodness she won’t be in; it’s Llewellyn I wish to have a chat with. Yes, I must investigate this matter, and I don’t want the mother to know anything about it until I can feel my bearings. There’s a way out of this somehow, and I believe the poor girl is nothing but a dupe. Can it be possible that she is shielding someone; but no, that can’t be the case, for when I went down to Wingfield she knew all about the story and never denied for a moment that she had written the letter. She looked sorry enough, but not surprised—no, not surprised. Bless me! if I know what the whole thing means. These girls, with their modern education, know a thing too much when they’re a match  for a shrewd old fellow like myself. But I’ll see Llewellyn. I’ll sound him, whatever happens.” When Mr. Parker got to the Gilroys’ house it so happened that Llewellyn himself was going up the steps. He was just about to put his latchkey into the door when the merchant’s hearty voice arrested him. Llewellyn turned round, and a smile broke over his face. “But mother’s out, I am afraid, Mr. Parker. You’ll come in all the same though, won’t you?” “Yes, Llewellyn, my man, I just will. I want to have a word with you, my boy.” “Certainly, sir. Is there anything I can do?” “Take me where we can be alone for a minute or two. Your sister isn’t in—eh?” “Do you mean Leslie?” “Yes, your eldest sister, Leslie.” “No, Mr. Parker; she is with her friends, the Chetwynds. One of the girls is very ill, and the other won’t do without Leslie.” “I’m not specially surprised at that,” said the merchant. “She seems the sort of girl one would rely on a good bit; but that is not what I have come about. See here, Llewellyn, have you got a letter of your sister’s handy?” “A letter! What do you mean?” said Llewellyn, “Just what I say. I want to see one of your sister’s letters.” “But I don’t understand,” said Llewellyn. “And I don’t want you to understand, my boy. I want you just to exercise a little bit of faith in your father’s old friend, and not to say a single word to your mother about this. Now, go and find some letters of your sister’s. When you have found them, I want you  to put a couple of them into my care. If they contain any secrets you may trust me not to blab; but this is a serious matter, and there is more in it than meets the eye. There, my boy, just do what you are told.” “Of course I have got several of Leslie’s letters,” answered Llewellyn. “I think there are a few which do not contain anything of a private nature. I will give you one or two, sir, with pleasure.” Llewellyn left the room, returning presently with a packet of letters kept together with an elastic band. “There,” he said, “you can have them all, sir. I have not even looked at them. Leslie is as open as the day, and there is nothing in her letters that you may not see.” “As open as the day—eh? You really think so. She’s not a bit secretive, now?” “Secretive! My sister?” said Llewellyn, drawing himself up and flushing angrily. “There, don’t get peppery. I’m very much obliged to you. You shall have these letters back again in a day or two at the farthest.” “But are you going, Mr. Parker?” “Yes; I must hurry back to town as fast as ever I can. Now, good-by to you; but hark, Llewellyn, not a word of this to your mother.” “Certainly not, if you do not wish it, sir; but I fail to understand.” “You must have faith, my boy. You will know all sooner or later.” With the letters in his pocket, Mr. Parker went straight off to Scotland Yard. There he had an interview with Chief-Inspector Jones, got the address of a special expert of handwriting, and drove off to the man’s house. Mr. Essex was in, and Mr. Parker had a short, emphatic interview with him.  “Well, sir.” he said finally, “you quite understand. You will examine the letters, and let me know the result to-morrow morning.” Mr. Essex promised, and the merchant went away. “Now,” he said to himself, “if this is a little game which some good people are trying to hide from Charles Parker they will quickly find themselves in the wrong box.”  <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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