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"I will leave you," said Captain Acton, "to make further enquiries, sir, and you will be pleased to immediately communicate with me at my home should you meet with anybody who can positively swear that my daughter was down here between seven and eight this morning." He endeavoured to recollect himself that, by calming his terrors his memory might better serve him. Urgent alarms often induce vain hopes which we should laugh at in the cool mood. He believed he might have put that letter down in his bedroom, and perfectly well knowing that he had not done so, and yet coaxed by a will-o'-the-wisp hope, he ransacked the room as though he knew that in it was to be found a gold piece of value whose discovery demanded a careful search only. What was certain in his mind was that that letter was in his pocket when he walked that morning to visit the Minorca. He remembered withdrawing it from his pocket, but in what part of the walk he knew not, and re-perusing a portion of it to refresh his memory. He tried to find comfort in the recollection that the letter bore no address and no signature. But a thundercloud of horror came down on this feeble streak of sunshine when he recalled the damning, incriminating contents of that sheet[Pg 152] which he had scrawled in pencil at "The Swan Inn." Whoever found it would know that Mr Lawrence, and Mr Lawrence alone, had written it, and this, too, irrespective of the handwriting. "There'll not be much nursing to be got out of this shipful of rough sailors," said Mr Fellowes. "What a fine, manly, gallant young officer was lost to the Service in Walter Lawrence! What made him shoot himself?".
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"Well, Tom, I reckon it's none of our funeral whether it turns up or not," growled the other. "We're gettin' paid well fer what we're doin', ain't we? If it turns up, Scroggie and the boss'll have to do their own worryin'." Captain Acton walked slowly towards Old Harbour Town. He was sunk in thought, and was in deep distress and at a loss to know what to do. He had no machinery of police to command. 1805 was a year very primitive as compared with 1905. He reflected that the first step in the disappearance of his daughter as represented in the statement of Mr Adams might indicate nothing in respect of the real cause of her disappearance. Because, suppose his surmise was correct, and that she had hastened to the help of some afflicted or humble person whom she befriended, she might, after having left the place wherever it was, have met with some disaster; she might have fallen over the cliff—she might on some roundabout way home have been robbed and left for[Pg 197] dying; in short, when a person mysteriously disappears a hundred reasons for his or her envanishment will occur to the mind, and any one of them may so satisfy, so convince, that those who accept it will go to work as though it were the truth though it possess but the very attenuated merit of being a conjecture. "Well, and what do you think of the accommodation offered by the Minorca?" "And then she says, frowning as though she'd up with a knife off the tray and run it into me, 'What have you got there?' 'Your dinner, your ledyship,' says I. 'Put it down upon the floor!' says she in a sort of shriek, as if she was trying to sing. 'Don't you see I'm in tatters? They've got me here who am a princess at home, and these are my rags and all I've got,' says she, spreading her dress with her hands as though she was goin' to skip. 'Beggars[Pg 266] in rags feed on the floor: they feed so. Anywhere's good enough for them. I've seen 'em sitting on the edge of ditches eating. Put the food on the floor! That's how princesses in tatters dine.' I did as I was ordered, your honour, and came away.".
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