The Boy Soldier; Or, Garibaldi's Young Captain — page 307: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

, - TT ——_ ee. THE BOY SOLDIER; OR, GARIBALDI’'S YOUNG CAPTAIN. 301 fiction ; but it is not, for truth is stranger than fiction,” “And so I believe,” said Tom, ‘for I have had experience of many things of a like nature, which, if told to the many, would not be believed ; but 1 know of facts which have come under my own knowledge equally as new and strange as the story you have now told.” “‘T have no doubt of it,” Gale replied. ‘‘ But, I have not told you the best story yet. There is another one which Morris related far superior to that,” “ Indeed !” « Ves.” And what is that about?” “Why, he saved a young nobleman from ruin, and even from death.” “You don’t mean that ?” “T do, though.” “ How?” “Tl tell you if you’ll only listen patiently ; and, after this story, we’ll both go out together, and see if we can fall across this Warner or old Flint.” “ Agreed,” THE YOUNG NOBLEMAN AND TRE DETECTIVE. Well, then, one night Morris and I were sitting in Bow Street, warming our toes before a roaring re. The night outside in the streets was filthy dirty, and the rain fell in torrents. I didn’t have much to do with detective cases then, for I was much too young, and hadn’t been in the force very long. But, I liked Morris, for he was a quiet, shrewd, brave fellow, very gentlemanly in his manner, and few would have taken him to be a detective, and one of the best in all the world. _He was, in truth, a gentleman, who had become suddenly reduced in circumstances, and all through the knavery of a gane of sharps; who had ruined him. He could speak and write French and Italian almost as well as he could English. Well, while he was sitting before the fire on the night in question, the inspector called him into his private office, and— “ Morris,” said he, ‘I have got a very particular job for you.” What is it ?”” said Morris. “Well,” said the inspector, “I can’t explain it very well, but here is a card ; you see the direction upon it; go to the address, and you will there learn all particulars,” Morris took the card. It was a beautifully enamelled bit of pasteboard, and on it was engraved a coat of arms, The name on it was the “Countess Frimley, No. 190, Grosvenor Square.” “ A countess,” thought Morris ; “ what the deuce do they want a detective in Grosvenor Square for?” A moment’s reflection might. have convinced Morris that rich people are sometimes as great rogues as poor ones, and require the services of the “force” occasionally on matters of great 1mport- ance, But, then, in the case of the rich, these affairs are so “hushed up,” that the common people and the newspapers seldom or ever hear of their eyil doings. Morris went home and dressed himself in his very best. It was past nine o’clock when he got to Gros- venor Square, and he rang the servants’ bell, rather too loudly, for ‘Jeames,” the footman, looked amazingly angry, and puffed out his cheeks and breast with any amount of pride as he opened the door, and said—- ** Well, and what do you want ? who are you?” “What is that to do with you?” said Morris, ‘and how dare you ask me ?” “Jeames” was slightly taken aback by Morris's cool manner, and eyed the detective very carefully from head to foot. Well, sir, and what is your name?” said Jeames, bursting with curiosity. “Find out,” said Morris. “Take this note up to her ladyship instantly ; I will wait here for an answer.” “T have no doubt you will,” said Jeames. “ Did you expect to be asked into the drawing-room, then, eh? ha, ha!” The footman went upstairs with the note. Presently he came down, all smiles, and began to bow to the detective as if he had been the Sultan of Egypt. “ Will you please to walk upstairs, sir?” said the flunkey, blandly ; “her ladyship will see you in the small drawing-room.” ‘‘Will she?” said Morris, with a comical grin that almost abashed the footman. ‘ Then show the way, fellow ; I will follow.” ‘‘ Fellow, sir, fellow,’ the footman began. ‘‘ There, don’t stand there chattering and bobbing like a parrot; show the way, I say.” Jeames showed the way. His pride was hurt. Directly the drawing-room door had closed on Morris, “ Jeames”’ shook his fist, as much as to say, “T only wish you’d call me a ‘fellow ’ out of doors, that’s all.” And he struck an attitude outside on the landing, as if he were about the pleasant ope- ration of punching the stranger’s head. : ‘‘The Countess Frimley, I believe,” said Morris, bowing, “The same, sir; and your name is ——’ *€ Morris,” “The same person who is mentioned in this note 2” “Yes, madam,” ‘There is no mistake, I hope?” ‘‘ Not the least, madam, I assure you.” For a moment the countess looked sideways at the visitor, as if she could not believe that such a well-spoken, well-dressed person really could be a detective officer. For a few moments she seemed to hesitate and knew not what to say. She endeavoured once or twice to begin the con- versation, but did not exactly know how. “T suppose that the inspector, sir, has told you everything ?” “No, my lady, not a word.” _ “Well, then, as you are,an officer, I might as well say that 1 have sent for you to speak regarding my only son, Charles.” Morris bowed. “He is not quite twenty years of age yet, and I fear he has fallen into the hands of — the snares of ——” : ; ‘Very wicked people, I have no doubt,” said Morris, quickly, “and, as a mother, you would like to see him rescued.” é “That is just what I was about to remark,’’ the countess observed. “Oh, that is nothing new; I can assare your ladyship such cases come under ually ; therefore, my dear lady, you need not have any fear or reseryation in speaking to me fully on b] GOMIGIOOKSEEO our notice contin- - ~ - Sr ce, sn SE ES —_- Orr rrr —————— — in