The Case of Young Mr Maitland.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XI, Issue 39, 30 September 1893, Page 255

The Case of Young Mr Maitland.

T was the summer of 1871 ; I, William Duncan, had just returned to London from Paris, after a long and tedious case in which I had been engaged searching for some bonds that the Communists had been credited with purloining, but which bad in reality been abstracted by a Commis who was supposed to be above suspicion. I went down that morning to our office that we rented in a bye-street in the city, to settle with my partner some business details before starting for my well-earned holiday; when, to my disgust, he informed me that a client of ours, the managing partner in a banking house in Lombard Street, had sent a messenger for me to go up at once to see him at the bank on important busi ness. Sunny visions of long days of idleness, with nothing more exciting than whipping a stream for speckled trout to break the monotony of a coveted holiday, disappeared from my mind’s eye, and at a glance, I foresaw the inevitable rapid midnight railway journey, the conference with provincial policemen, and the usual incidents connected with the detection of some absconding clerk.

However sorry I was to give up my holiday, the firm of Crampton Brothers were far too influential as clients to be treated with anything short of the highest consideration; and so, disdaining a hansom and availing myself of a short cut through the labyrinth of city streets, I lost no time in presenting myself at the bank. A cashier, in the intervals of weighing sovereigns in the scales on the counter, the sharp ‘ chink chink ’ of which always seems to me such a comfortable and comforting sound, sent a messenger to the bank parlour to announce me, and in a few minutes I was ushered into the presence of Mr Crimpton. • Sit down, sit down, Mr Duncan ; I shan’t be a minute,’ and with that Mr Cramp on resumed the work he was engaged upon. He was a man of about forty five, whitebeaded, large-featured, loud-voiced, and strong in eviry particular—above all things, strong in his opinions. He treated his work as a swimmer would the water in his progress through it; was fast or slow as he deemed fit. He

would cast it aside and give his mind to other things, but his work was always with him and he liked it. I took up the Times and glanced through it, but I hadn’t long to wait. With a 1 Now, Mr Duncan,’ Mr Crampton pushed his circular chair back a little from his desk with a creak that boded ill for its casters.

* I want your attention for a few minutes whilst I give you particulars of a most mysterious case that I want you to help me in. No, no ; I am glad to say nothing to do with this house,’ he said, with a smile, for I had instinctively glanced at the door to see that we were alone. ‘ltis a case in the country. A sister of mine lives down in Hampshire with her only son ; her husband died some years ago, and my nephew is—let me see (he tilted himself back in his chair slightly)—yes, just nineteen. Dear me, how time flies ! Well, as far as I know, he is a steady fellow enough, and was on the eve of starting to take his place in the house of a German firm, who are our agents in Cologne. He has studied abroad, and was staying with his mother prior to going to Germany ; in fact, I expected him in town next week. The other evening—stay, here is my sister’s letter ; I will read you what she says : — Ogden, St. Mary’s. July Ist, 1871. Dear Ralph,—l am distracted—quite overcome with grief. Walter has disappeared. On Friday evening I left him reading downstairs. I went up to bed about ten, and shortly afterwards!

heard him go out, as he often does, to smoke a cigar before retiring to bed; as he has quite a mistaken idea, poor fellow, that I don’t like tobacco smoke in the house, I fell asleep. The next morning, when I came downstairs. Jane informed me Mr Walter was fast asleep and hadn’t taken in his hot water. I told her not to disturb him. and went on with my breakfast, and read the letters the post had brought me. It occurred to me that my poor boy might like to have his bre ikfast taken up to him, and as there were several letters for him, I went up to his room (the one you had when you came down). Judge of my surprise when, knocking softly and getting no reply, I raised the latch gently and opened tne door -ho was not there. The room was prepared for the night, the blinds down and the curtains drawn, hut he had not entered it. I called to Jane and told her to run over to the Claytons' and ascertain if ho hail been there. The Claytons are a clergyman and his sister my sister is l ory intimate with,’ Mr Crampton explained.] No. he had not. The only trace I have of him is from ono of the policemen of the village, who jiassed him about, half-past ten, and to whom he said good-night.. Pray tell me what I ain to do. lam almost out of my mind. Every pond has been draggod for miles round; not a vestige of clothing or anvtliing has come to light. The vicar has boon very kind; he culls to see me every day.

I should have telegraphed to you at once, but I hoped every hour I should see my boy again, ami I feared it might prejudice him with you if 1 alarmed you needlessly. Can you come down I Pray do something for me.—Your distracted sister. Annie Maitland.

He put the letter down, and half suppressed a sigh. * What do you think of it, Mr Duncan ?’ 1 hesitated a moment. * Has Mr Maitland—Do you know of any attachment I’ I asked.

‘ Ah, Mr Duncan, you detective gentlemen are all alike, with you it’s always cherchez la femme ; but in this case—l forgot, he’s nineteen, though,’ he continued reflectively. ‘No,’ he resumed, ‘I think he was more interested in chemistry and scientific pursuits than in running after women. But there, I must leave it to you. I should do no good if I went down. I will tell you what I have arranged. I will write to my sister and say that a friend of mine, upon whose judgment I rely ’ (I inclined my head at this acknowledgment of the opinion he entertained of my abilities, and leant forward to follow his instructions) * is coming down to help her clear up this affair. If I tell her you are a detective she will keep you at arm’s length, and you will have more difficulty in arriving at the information which you need as to the particulars of this young man's life ; for in my opinion,’ he said musingly, ‘ it is only by knowing what a man has done in the past that you can predict what he will do in the future.’

I had never before supposed that Mr Crampton had so much insight into human nature; but with the thought how pleasant it was to conduct business with such a principal, I made a few inquiries as to the locality of Ogden St. Mary’s, and prepared to take my leave. • You will require money,’ he said, filling up a cheque for twenty pounds. He touched a bell, which brought a clerk from the outer office. * You do not, like other people, always care to have notes ; but in this case -’ and he smiled as he saw I understood his jest at my professional caution.

‘ Oh, thank you ; three lives and the rest in gold will do,’ I said, turning to the clerk. • Three five pound notes and five sovereigns,’ he said, as the clerk looked to him to confirm my request. * I should like to hear how you get on,’ he said, * and whether that “ clue ’’which so often misleads yon gentle men is readily forthcoming,’ he added, with a smile, as he put out his hand to say good bye.

•Oh, certainly : I will let you know when I have definite information, on which I can base an opinion.’

At this moment the clerk returned. Folding the crisp notes and placing them in the breast pocket of my waistcoat, and putting the sovereigns loosely in my pocket, I accepted Mr Crampton's proffered hand and departed. I sent a messenger to my rooms for a portmanteau that was already packed for my intended holiday, and after a brief consultation with my partner over a hurried lunch

at Cannon-street, I took the train for Waterloo, and by the judicious administration of a shilling to the guard, found myself alone in a first-class carriage, with a cigar, prepared to digest my luncheon and the information 1 had received at one and the same time.

My train, an express, was timed to arrive at four o’clock at the junction, whence a local train would convey me to my destination. I had nothing but the business in hand to occupy my mind, as I had, so to speak, cleared up everything in view < f my intended holiday. I certainly was interested in the case ; although from the details given me it appeared simple enough. So much depended upon the character of the young man, that until I was in a position to form an opinion, it was idle to lay any plan of action in dealing with it. I therefore gave myself up with complacency to the enjoyment of the limited view of the country we were passim through afforded bv the windows on either side of the carriage. S >on tiring of this, I took a map of England from my pocket and spread it out before me in order to ascertain the precise situation of Ogden St. Mary’s, I soon discovered it, some two miles east of the line of railway that branches from Salisbury and separates Hampshire from Dorsetshire. I was to be located there, then, until I had accomplished my object. Well, it would be an agreeable change from the Latin, where during the last two months I had spent most of my time. The air would be pure, at all events There would be relief from the perpetual taint of patchouli and libertinism by which I had been surrounded until my moral sense seemed unequal to the discernment of what was admirable in nature. Fond of excitement, banishment to a country village extending over a lengthened period, without occupation, would have been intolerable, but as a change from the noxious atmosphere I had lately breathed I welcomed it as a relief. With that sensation of being brought up against its wil], and the resentment of the operation consequent upon it that terminates in coining to a sudden standstill, inevitably throwing the unwary traveller across the carriage, the train stopped at the junction. Seeming a porter to take charge of my portmanteau, who informed me that the train for Ogden St. Mary’s was not due until 4 37, I prepared to amuse myself with my surroundings until the time came for me to start. I had read the London papers, but I thought that a local journal might afford me some little information on the subject of my quest. Yes, there was the contents bill of the Shipley Sentinel. It informed me in capital letters of the mysterious disappearance, with the addition of ‘ further details ’in smaller type undeineatb. I pmchased a paper ; and, except for editorial expansions, there was little that I did not know before.

I certainly learnt that Mrs Maitland was ‘ universally respected,’ and that * wide-felt sympathy ’ had been expressed for her allliction ; but, beyond an expression of opinion that the young gentleman had been kidnapped, there was no suggestion of any reason to account for his mysterious disappearance.

Finding nothing was to be gained by further perusal of the paper until the departure of my train, I endeavoured to deiive what amusement I could from the advertisements of cattle food, agricultural implements, and patent soaps, with which every railway station throughout England is more or less placarded.

A short journey of an hour brought me to my destination, and I determined to put up as near the station as possible. ‘ The Railway Hotel ’ was a conventional red biick building, of doll’s house architecture, three windows on either side of the door, half masked with wire blinds, with ‘coffeeroom ’ on the one side and ‘ commercial-room ’ on the other. I entered the latter, ordered dinner, and desired my portmanteau to be taken to my room. The only occupant of the commercial room besides myself was a man seated at one of the windows writing against time to his London house as to his day’s doings. I had made up my mind not to call upon Mrs Maitland until the following morning, but to inform myself as far as possible of the life and character of the place from the stranger’s point of view until I became aquainted, as I should do on the morrow, with the persons who could aid me in disentangling this web of mystery. The most recent county directory that lay on the table informed me that the town, or rather village, as I should have described it, possessed two thousand inhabitants, and that the living, in the gift of a neighbouring squire, a Mr Arbuthnot, was held by a Mr Clayton. The town boasted a public hall, and there was a market held on Saturdays. Amongst the private residences were two doctors, a lawyer, a clergyman who kept a boys’ school, and the iady whose acquaintance I was to make. There were also three inns, named respectively the Railway Hotel, the Red Lion, and the Brown Bear. At the Red Lion a Masonic Lodge was held, and it was also stated to be a posting establishment, but the posting was one of its departed glories. It has been truly said, that the ‘ commercial ’ is the best cared for of any class of the travelling public ; and the soup and cutlet that formed my repast, served in the commercialroom, caused me to endorse the statement. The desire for a cup of cotfee and a cigar brought the servant to the room, who wanted no very skilful direction on my part to launch forth upon the topic that was uppermost in her mind. She was a tall, good looking girl, who treated her customers as she found them, and was demure, saucy, or businesslike, as the occasion or the customer might demand.

I preferred that she should impart as much information as 1 could gather without appearing to be much interested in the subject; so 1 let her run up and down the gamut of her sympathies, and describe how the ‘ poor young gentleman’s mother looked as white as white,’ and she did think ‘ Miss Arbuthnot had more heart ’ ; from which I gathered that Mrs Maitland was suffering great mental allliction, and that the Squire’s daughter was supposed to be in love with the missing man.

I asked her if she knew him personally. • Oh, yes, sir. He hadn’t long been home from Germany, I think it was. He used to go fishing a great deal, ami used to call here when he was waiting for the train to have a chat with master. He knew mostly everything, though he didn't get on very well with the gentlemen about here, as besides fishing he didn’t do anything.’ ‘ 1 thought you said he knew everything !’ I exclaimed, testily. • So he did, sir ; but he didn’t shoot and hunt, nor care for what the gentlemen call "sport,” and so they thought him rather soft. But. lor, sir, there wasn’t anything out of books that he couldn’t tell you ; and as for anything new, I

believe if he had continued to live here he’d a caused a revolution. There was quite a coolness between Mrs Maitland and the Vicar because her son wasn’t allowed to light up all the gas in the church with electricity.’ ‘ How was that ?’

‘ In the summer time, in the parish church they always lights the gas and turns it low before the people goes in, and then turns it up at the end when it gets dark ; but Mr Maitland he wanted to *ight it all at once, just when it was wanted, by the Vicar touching a spring, but the Vicar said it was not seemly, and Mr Maitland laughed at him They say as Mr Maitland’s house is full of all sorts of fandangoes what he invented. The house is just past the church, with a white gate in front. It’s Dr. Percival, though, that will feel his loss most of all ; they was always together. You know him, perhaps, sir ?’ ‘No,’ I replied, ‘ I can’t say that I do.’ ‘ Oh, Dr. Percival is the Indian doctor, as they call him. He’s been here about two years. Well, they was always together ; I seed them only a Sunday or two ago, when I went past the doctor’s house after church, sitting there smoking and arguing, taking no account of anyone passing by, with the window open. You could almost hear what they said.’ As she couldn’t tell me what they did say, and my cigar was out, and as I did not feel inclined for any more generalities, I determined to have a stroll through the town before going to bed. Turning to the right, I found myself, after crossing a railway bridge, in the main street of the town. A shopman putting up the shutters at a tobacconist’s suggested the early habits of the inhabitants ; the moon had risen, but the daylight bad hardly faded in the west, and there were few people in the streets. A turning to the left, and I came in sight of the square tower of the church ; the hands of the clock showed me that I had sat longer after dinner than I had intended. The church stood back from the road, surrounded by a graveyard ; a modern fence separated it from the highway, a board to which parish notices were affixed stared blankly out into the road. I crossed over, and mounting the steps raised the latch, and passed into the churchyard. The church had been built on rising ground, and so I was enabled to see far down the road. A little farther on, on the left-hand side, the white gate of Mrs Maitland’s house was in sight, and I walked on inside the rails until I came opposite to it. Here I halted, and gave myself up to observing the scene before me. Directly in front was a low fence backed by a trim-clipped hedge, and some twenty yards behind it lay the house. The blinds had not been drawn, and I could see into a cosy room on the left-hand side of the door. At a table sat a lady reading by the light of a shaded lamp ; she was dressed in black. I could just di=cern her pale and delicate features, and knowing the relationship, thought I traced a likeness to her brother, Mr Crampton. As a servant entered the room, she raised her head, and I saw her pass a handkerchief across her eyes ; then, giving some directions, she resumed her reading. The servant came to the window, and in an instant all was darkness. Within the house hung a cloud of deepest sorrow, and without the calm moonlight cast its cold rays upon the Hint stones of the great church behind me. The hour of eleven struck as I turned to go, but the picture I had seen remained long in my mind’s eye before the fatigue of the journey brought oblivion in slumber. I was up early in order to interview Mrs Maitland at once, and as far as possible inform myself of the character and disposition of her missing son from the information she would be able to afford me. As I arrived at the gate a gentleman in clerical garb came down the path : his face informed me that my work lay before me. I touched an electric bell and the front door opened. I was surprised at this, but I presumed that it was one of Mr Maitland’s ‘ fandangoes.’ A servant took my card, a private one (as I had arranged with Mr Crampton that I was to pursue my inquiries in the character of one of his friends), and I was ushered into the room of which I had taken stock on the previous night. It was low roofed, with a beam across the ceiling, a table in the centre, and books that by their geometrical arrangement looked as if to read them would be to play havoc with the inrentions of the person who had placed them there. A fire-sereen with a wonderful coat-of-arms in woolwork occupied one corner, and a copper eoal scuttle, whose brightness attested the industry of the servant, flanked the other. A sofa crossed the window, and on it I seated myself, with the light behind me, so that during my forthcoming conversation I might study the features of Mrs Maitland. I bad not long to wait ; I rose as she entered the room with an open letter in her hand. Taking a chair by the fireplace, she begged roe to be seated. ‘ My brother, Mr Crampton, has written to me ; in fact, I have only just finished reading his letter,’ she said, as she laid it on the table at her side. ‘And do you think you can help me?’ Her lip trembled, and she paused to gain control over her feelings. ‘ I feel as if this sorrow had been with me for weeks, and yet it was only Friday night when my son left the house. My brother seems to think you are sure to find him ; he says you are so clever in clearing up mysteries, that be always consults you if he is in a difficulty. I thought he never consulted anyone,’ she added, half to herself.

‘I fear it will pain you,’ I said, ‘ but I want you to tell me exactly all you can about your son, and, if you have access to them, let me have any letters or papers of his, however trivial the contents mav appear ; they will help me to form a theory which I can work upon. I know you will forgive me if I appear to presume, bnt the importance of the sub ject must be my excuse. I shall want to know who were his most intimate friends ; and ’ (I paused, thinking how best to put the question) ‘ since his return from Germany, were you —had you his entire confidence ?’ ‘ I understand you,’ Mrs Maitland replied. ‘ I will tell you everything I can. I was, and I was not. in his confidence. I must tell you that the pursuit of his studies in Germany had brought him into contact with men of whose opinions on religious subjects I could not approve, and in the course of reading he had, notwithstanding the strictness of his early training, imbibed ideas which I regarded with strong disfavour ; but though this placed a barrier against some topics of conversation, we never had the slightest difference, —in all things he had his own way. and turned this house upside down with his strange mechanical contrivance«. I daresay yon noticed that the door opened of itself when you touched the bell? And—excuse me.’ She rose, and passing to the window, showed me by touching a counter weight how the curtains, hung on rods with elbow-

joints, spread themselves out and obscured the light instantly. This, then, was the solution of the interior of the room having been so suddenly shut out from my gaze on the previous night. Causing the curtains to refold, she resumed her seat. * You see,’ she said, * that all his ideas were to save trouble to others, and his greatest delight was to have them adopted. But you will get a better idea of bow he employed himself by going with me into his room.’ I opened the door for her, and we passed along the hall to a room that crossed it at right angles. The door at which we entered was in the centre, and directly opposite on either side were two windows opening down to the ground. The appointments of the room were certainly peculiar ; along the right hand-side was slung a hammock, across which was hung a striped Austrian blanket ; this was so arranged that the occupant when within it could raise himself any desired height from the ground by pulleys ; at the head, by the window, was a bookshelf, very long, but narrow, so as to contain six volumes on a shelf ; an arrangement of rackwork was so contrived as to raise and lower it on slides which reached from the floor to the ceiling, so that any book could be brought within reach of any one extended in the hammock. Covering the floor was a thick indiarubber carpet, sunk below the surface, so as to bring it to the level of the boards. A large microscope stood in the further window, and an Indian basket chair with a hookah at its side occupied the corner opposite to it. In the centre of the room hung an immense Oriental umbrella, so large that it stretched its entire width and formed a ceiling. ‘ And this is Mr Maitland’s room ?’ I said, as I took in one after another of its features.

‘Yes, in this room he would sit and read in the daytime for hours together ; here it was be often slept, though I always had a comfortable room prepared for him upstairs. I don’t tbiuk he ever went out, except to go on some fishing expedition, or to call on his friend, Dr. Percival.’ ‘ And who is Dr. Percival ?' I exclaimed.

‘ Dr. Percival was my son’s greatest friend. They were inseparable, and whilst the doctor was in India he corressponded constantly with my son. He lives in Ogden ; you passed his house in coming here from the station. ’ * Had your son any other friends living here ?’ I asked. ‘No ; his time was so much occupied with reading that he did not hunt, shoot, or play tennis, like other men, and so did not come much in contact with those of his own age.’ I glanced at the bookshelves. A work on Mechanics, three or four on Chemistry, a volume of Spinoza, and Rousseau’s works, made up a not very extensive collection. ‘ Have you any of your son’s letters?’ 1 asked—• I mean from Dr. Percival to your son ?’ ‘Oh, yes; here are several, just as he left them.’ So saying, she advanced to a writing table and opened a drawer. Within was dire confusion ; letters, memoranda were scattered in all directions ; the pages of a Hindustani dictionary were filled with notes, as if Mr Maitland had been engaged in study. I hesitated a moment, and then said, ‘ If you will allow me, I will take these away with me, as I should like to look them over at my leisure.’ ‘ There are some more here, written when he was in Germany.’ And so saying Mrs Maitland banded me a bundle of letters loosely tied together. I took them all, intending, according to my theory, to read them carefully before pursuing my inquiries. ‘ And now,’ I said, ‘ I think I have seen everything. Will you tell me as nearly as you can the circumstances connected with your son’s disappearance ?’ She seated herself, and related what I had already learnt from the letter she had written to Mr Crampton. ‘ How far is it from here to the nearest port ?’ 1 asked, when she came to the end of her narrative. ‘ Poole is the nearest seaport town. But you don’t think, do you, that he has left the country?’ ‘At present I have formed no opinion on the subject; but in carrying out an investigation of this kind I am bound to consider every possibility and to take measures accordingly-’ I perceived that this recital of painful details had affected her greatly ; so, declining her offer ot luncheon, I started out to return to my hotel, determined to devote the afternoon to the examination of Mr Maitland’s correspondence ; and after dinner I determined to call upon Dr. Percival. On bidding Mrs Maitlandgood-bye, I promised to return the next day. On my way home it occurred to me to leave my card on Dr. Percival, informing him that, if convenient to himself, I intended calling upon him that evening. As I approached the house I noticed that, as if to mark the importance of the locality, the pavement commenced within a few yards of the door of the Doctor’s house. A brass plate, the frequent polishing of which had somewhat diminished the distinctness of the name, informed me that Dr. Percival lived there, and that he was a surgeon. The house stood back from the road, behind a low wall surmounted by iron railings. The front door was connected with the street by a wide glass-covered way ; when the door was opened by an elderly servant, however, I was unable to see into the house, as an Indian dhurry hung across the hall. ‘ The doctor’s never at home at this time,’ she said, in reply to mv inquiry, ‘ he comes home at four ; but,’ hesitatingly, ‘ unless its very important he don’t like to be disturbed then. He'll be at home this evening -at least, I think so,’ saying which, she went within and consulted a memorandum slate, on which it appeared the doctor was in the habit of writing his engagements.

Presently she informed me that her master did not appear to have any engagement, but would be at home that evening. On returning to the hotel, I determined to devote myself to the perusal of the letters Mrs Maitland had given me. For this purpose I put them in order of date. In doing this I had a presentiment that I should find my reward by obtaining some clue to account for the mysterious disappearance.

In order to be absolutely undisturbed I had determined to prosecute my search in my bedroom, and make use of an ottoman that stood at the foot of the bed in order to lay out. the letters before me.

They appeared to be from various persons, and extended over a period of two years : one or two from Mr Crampton ; letters from student friends abroad ; but most of them were from Dr. Percival, written from India at various times, and on board ship, when, as it appeared, be was medical officer on one of the P. and O. vessels. I soon became interested, so vivid were they in their descriptions of Oriental life, so enthusiastic on the subject of medical science, that I

found myself forgetting the subject I was engaged in and laughing heartily at descriptions of pompous personages and eccentric characters with whom the Doctor had been brought in contact. He evidently had great sympathy with the native population, and there were passages in his letters that showed an intimate knowledge of their habits and customs, quite foreign to the ordinary Anglo-Indian’s experiences.

The following letter attracted my attention; it was written from Simla, and dated March, 1869.

Dear Maitland.—l must ask you to forgive my letting the last mail go without answering your long letter. How glad 1 was to get it! You tell me you have been reading hard, and that you hav c come across a work by Paracelsus written at the beginning of the sixteenth century, entitled ‘The Production and Fruit of the Four Elements,’ and you ask me what I know about the author, and whether the wonderful knowledge to which he lays claim is to be taken seriously. How curious that you, though ten years younger than I am, should be interested in a subject which

at present occupies my whole attention ! When I came out here as medical officer on board the Cimbria, I was as robust an English Philistine as the P. and O. Company had in its service; but circumstances have occurred which impress me with the belief that there is more in the occult Oriental sciences than is dreamt of in our philosophy; and thatthereare subtle influences interleaved, so to speak, wiih natural causes, that place what appears as miraculous to the occidental mind, within the ken of the Oriental searcher after truth. Paracelsus was a Theosophist, born at Zurich in 1493. He travelled throughout Europe and Asia; the amount of knowledge he thus Accumulated was almost incredible, more particularly as he had cleared his mind of all preconceived ideas, and sought for nothing but the study of nature under every possible condition. He was no scholar in the stricter sense of the word, but gained his information by personal experience and experiment. When I return to England, and settle down possibly to some country practice, I shall nave to exercise considerable self-denial if 1 am to deny myself the pleasure of putting to a practical test many of the extraordinary remedies with which I have become acquainted, that, at present, however, find no place in our English pharmacopoeia.

Only last week a Parsee, whilst bilking to me on the subject of his religion, gave me an example of his power in what 1 should describe, for want of a better term, ‘mental affinity.’ We were sitting smoking cigarettes in the bungalow of an English officer. Colonel Blackett, with whom we were both very intimate It was about eight in the evening when a native servant delivered a message to our host which obliged him to go down to the Club, about a quarter of a mile away ; he said he should return in half-an-hour. I pressed him to do so. as I wanted to turn in, having been up late the previous night He had no sooner left than my Parsee friend said very quietly, ‘He will not be back for two hours.’ I asked him if he knew the cause of his having been called away. He told me he did not; but he feared there was some danger that he would narrowly escape. His tone alarmed me, but without the slightest agitation he informed me that it I would keep it a profound secret from our host he would do his best to discover what it was. I watched him attentively. He sat bolt upright, half closed his quivering eyelids, clenched his teeth, and presently his breath came in great irregular sobs; he had placed his hands in front of him. the left clasped within the right, and I saw’ his grasp grow tighter until the ’inger joints cracked again; the lips were parted, and iresmtly the whole body became rigid.

I rose and touched his forehead : it was cold as death, and clammy, as w’ith a person in a faint, the nostrils unnaturally distended. I took out my watch and sat wit h it in my hand ; slowly the seconds ticked on, and there was no change. I felt his pulse : it w r as intermittent and feeble; the previous experience I had had of these manifestations prevented my feeling any alarm, but I had never before been present when the person under these extraordinary influences was so to be relied on as was my Parsee friend. I had hitherto, therefore, been somewhat sceptical as to the genuineness of this kind of trance. For half an hour the ticking of my watch alone disturbed the silence; then, starting violently, and with a deep sigh, his head fell forward on his breast. I raised him up and laid him full length on the divan, on which we had been sitting. After a few minutes he opened his eyesand said with a smile. ‘He is safe.’ He then told me that our host had been sent for by a friend to know if he would accompany him on an expedition up country ; that while they were conversing together, he had seen them walk towards the centre of the room, and that at that moment the heavy cut-glass chandelier had fallen with a crash, and that his friend, who stood within a few paces, had been felled to the ground. 1 started up in amazement.

I asked him how, in Gods name, if he knew this, he had allowed our host to go. He replied that he had what we call a presentiment of evil only, but was quite unable to prevent the catastrophe, and that it was only by a great effort of will he had been able to follow the circumstances of the event. 1 lookeu at my watch : it was nine o’clock. 1 questioned him eagerly, but he was very reticent, and told me that he very rarely attempted any thing of the kind, as when he came to himself he felt all his nervous system completely prostrated for days afterwards. 1 advised him to retire, but he was anxious to see the end.

We had not long to wait. Colonel Blackett came in looking deathly pale ; he was covered with dust. 1 sprang up. fearing he was injured. He went to a side table and poured himself out some brandy, handed a light overcoat to his servant, diamissed him. and, throwing himself in a chair, proceeded to tell us how nearly he had escaped death. His friend had been struck on the head by the falling chandelier. and was lying at the Club insensible. I at once ottered my professional services, but he told me that fortunately the regimental surgeon was in the Club and had done what he could for him. Itajamein hail asked me not to tell Colonel Blackett of what had occurred; and so, though sorely tempted, I held my peace.

Now. this extraordinary affair I witnessed what am Ito think of it, unless there are mysterious influences within the know ledge of Orientals that we know not of in our more advanced civilisation ' When I come back to England we must try to puzzle out some of these strange secrets for ourselves. as from the direction of your research 1 gather that the same subjects interest us both not a little. And now. dear Maitland, good-bye; let me know what you think of this strange experience. Yours ever, C. 11. Percival. I bad read this letter with great interest, but, being of a practical turn of mind, I felt disposed to regard Dr. Percival as not very likely to afford me much assistance in finding his friend. I must say I felt disappointed. I had expected to find a letter giving the advice a man of the world often affords when he enjoys the confidence of one younger than himself; a reply to some letter that would afford me a slight idea of

his possible difficulties or dangers, that perhaps no one else would know. As I turned the letters over I noticed a halfsheet of paper, which on examination proved to be a preeription of some kind, but it was written on half a sheet of letter-paper that had been torn off. As tar as I could discover it was complete in itself, although across the top had been written a title, a portion of which only remained : thus, * eat experiment ’ —this was all. I turned it over on the pile before me, disgusted at my want of success. I felt despondent; I had received a check. I had hitherto had, as I then supposed, so much experience that even then I almost invariably put my band upon the material that yielded a clue. But though I had waded through a mass of correspondence, I was, so to speak, none the wiser; I had felt sure I was on the right track, instead of which I was utterly at sea I put the letters in my portmanteau, rang the bell and ordered dinner, determined that, unless my interview with Dr. Percival that evening afforded more information than his letters bad done, I would run down to Poole next day and pursue my inquiries along the coast. I felt in no hurry to make my call, as I felt dispirited and baffied. I went downstairs to the coffee-room, ate my dinner mechanically, and not until I had got through the best part of a bottle of Itroy did 1 feel my spirits revive. It served me nght; why should I expect always to be successful ? Other men with as much experience as I had often pursued clues that had to be given up when apparently on the eve of success, and wearily to retrace their steps ; and here was I on the first day, because I had failed to hit off the scent, losing my accustomed self-confidence. I rose, told the Abigail I might not return until a little after closing time, and bent my steps to the doctor’s house. I rang at the outer gate ; the door was opened by the servant whom I had seen in the morning. In reply to my inquiry she informed me the doctor was at home. I was taken along the passage, which in a larger house would have been described as a hall, and was ushered into a room. Rising from a chair of basket work in which he had been reclining, the doctor came forward to meet me. The window was opposite the door, and as he advanced I could not distinguish his features ; but when he had asked me to take a chair opposite to him and had resumed bis seat, I could then see his face. He was in all respects a magnificent man, above the middle height, in all his movements there was a grace that was captivating ; his eyes were soft, but when animated, lit up with the light of an intellectual joy ; the mouth had a sternness that impressed me with the strength of a possible opponent. I noticed, however, when his features were at rest, that he looked haggard and worn.— Pall Mall Magazine. I To be continued).