Democratic Sentinel, Volume 7, Number 33, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 September 1883 — THE BLACK VALISE. [ARTICLE]

THE BLACK VALISE.

The excellent wife of the Rev. Septimus Medd felt vaguely uneasy on the morning of her hausband’s departure for London. He had never left her for a single day since their marriage upward of ten years ago. He was a mild, easy-going parson, of a timorous disposition, utterly ignorant of the ways of the world, and likely to be easily imposed upon by designing persons. When he came down to breakfast, equipped for the journey, he looked so pale and nervous that his wife said: “I wish I could come with you, Septimus. I feel sure you will get lost, or something. You are like a great child.” “Oh! I can take care of myself, my love, ” said the Rev. Septimus, stoutly. “You can set your mind at rest about me. Beside, I shall be back in a day ■ or two or by the end of the week at the latest.” .' “ Where can I write or telegraph, in case I have anything to communicate?" inqu red his wife. “Well, you see, my darling, I don’t quite know whether I shall be able to get in at the Tavistock,” said the Rev. Septimus, with an air of hesitation. “London is very full at this time of year, I’m told. Perhaps I had better arrange to call every morning for letters at the Charing Cross Postoffice. ” “Very well. Mind you write and let me know what day you are coming back. Here’s the pony-chaise! Now, Septimus, remember all I’ve told you, and see that you get your full share of your Aunt Julia’s estate, for the children’s sake. Don’t trust those London lawyers, and don’t sign your name to anything without thoroughly understanding it. Come, children, say goodby to your father, or he will miss the train.” The Rev. Septimus tore himself from the bosom of his family with considerable emotion, and took his seat in the pony*rap, to be driven to the station. His wife waved her hand as he disappeared from view, and shed a furtive tear on the doorstep before returning to the house. She could not shake off the uncomfortable foreboding that had taken possession of her, and the next day she wrote her husband a long letter, repeating all her injunctions and warnings, and urging him to take care of himself. Three days passed without bringing any news, and Mrs. Medd’s somewhatunreasonable anxiety increased to such .-a pitch that she could not refrain from ;sending the Rev. Septimus a telegram. .If he had been too busy to reply to her letter, he, at all events, would not leave -B, telegram unanswered —the more especially as she begged him to let her hear from him at once. To her dismay, however, her last communication yr as not more successful than the first, and she became seriously alarmed. She felt certain he had not received her letter and telegram, and wondered uneasily what could have happened to him. Had he been suddenly taken ill, or had some more serious evil befallen him ? In the midst of her suspense and perturbation she was startled by receiving a visit from a Police Inspector, who had driven over from the neighboring town. “ Are you Mrs. Medd, ma’am, the wife of the Rev. Septimus Medd?” inquired the officer, on being ushered into the room. “Yes. My husband is away in London. What is the matter ?” cries Mrs. Medd, in an agony of apprehension. “I have had a telegram from the London police, directing me to ascertain Mr. Medd’s address in London, and what his movements are,” said the Inspector, mysteriously. “Why! is anything wrong? For heaven’s sake tell me!” exclaimed the cfistracted wife. “I hope not; but a suspicious individual, giving the name of Smith, has been apprehended in London on some charge or other, and some of the luggage found in his possession is supposed to belong to your husband. ” “Good gracious! He must have been robbed,” cried Mrs. Medd, turning pale. “That is just what we want to find out. Will you kindly give me his address?” “I don’t know it,” exclaimed Mrs. Medd, in despair. “I am anxiously expecting to hear from him. He may be at the Tavistock Hotel in Covent Oarden ; but he told me to address letters to the Charing Cross Postoffice.” “Have you done so?” said the Inspector, making a note in his pocketbook. “I wrote two or three days ago, and have since sent a telegram; but I have had no answer,” said Mrs. Medd, bursting into tears. “We can easily ascertain if he has called there, and also whether he is staying at the Tavistock Hotel,” said the Inspector, in a matter-of-fact tone. “There is no cause for alarm at present.” “Are you driving back to Bilchester ? (Let me come with you,” cried the poor lady, in a painfully-agitated state. “I

shall then hear the answer to your telegram without delay, and, if necessary, I will go up to town immediately. I’m afraid my husband is ilk ” "Don’t be frightened, ma’am; but come with me by all means, if you wish,” said the Inspector, soothingly. “In fact, it will be j-ist as well.” Accordingly, poor Mrs. Medd went off with the Inspector, who, during the drive of eight miles asked her a good many questions about her husband, and plainly showed that he entertained disquieting suspicions which he was unwilling to communicate. What these might be, the unfortunate lady was too frightened to inquire, for her apprehensions were aroused, and she hardly dared even to speculate upon the subject. On reaching Bilchester she determined to consult the local solicitor, who was an old friend and adviser, and she therefore arranged with the Inspector to meet her at that gentleman’s office as soon as he had received an answer to the telegram he was about to dispatch. Fortunately, the lawyer was disengaged, and Mrs. Medd was shown into his room immediately. “How do you do Mrs. Medd? Take a seat. What can I do for you to-day?” inquired old Mr. Brook, cheerily, as he shook hands with his visitor. “By-the-by, have you heard from that husband of yours since he went away ?” “No. "Why do you ask,” demanded Mrs. Medd quickly. ”I’ve had a letter from Simpson & Hall, the lawyers who are administrating the late Miss Julia Norman’s estate in London, you know Brook, taking up a letter from his desk. “They expected to see your husband yesterday, but he -never called. They write to ask if he is in town, and for his address. ” To the lawyer’s surprise, the poor lady burst into tears at this fresh piece of information, which increased her apprehensions. It was no longer possible to doubt that some accident had happened to -heiv husband. In a few words she proceeded to explain to the lawyer the object of her visit, and earnestly besought him to accompany her to London. “By all means, my dep,r madam. I will start this instant if you wish- But you mustn’t give way. I’ve no. doubt your husband’s absence can be easily accounted foy/f sajd Mr. Brook, whose expression, nevertheless, showed that he was thoroughly puzzled. “At all events, we must wait and , see what In; spector Marshall has to communicate. Perhaps you will read the newspaper while I write a letter or two. ” Mrs. Medd strove in vain to fix her attention on the columns of the paper, while Mr. Brook proceeded with his correspondence; and thus a dreary two hours dragged along, at the end of which the Inspector arrived, looking very grave. “I’m afraid you will have to go to London, ma’m,” he said, after respectfully saluting the lawyer. “Your husband has never called at the Charing Cross Postoffice, and he is not known at the Tavistock Hotel. ” “When is the next train?” inquired Mrs. Medd, tremulously. “The express starts in three-quarters of an hour,” said the Inspector. “If you will travel by that, you will be met at the other end by a police officer, who will give you every assistance. ” “But what occasion is there for the lady to go?” interposed Mr. Brook. “I know Mr. Medd perfectly well, and can do whatever is possible. Surely Mrs Medd might be spared the journey.” “Well, sir, you see they want, her to identify Mr. Medd’s things,” explained the Inspector. “They want some one to swear to ’em.” “Beside, I could not bear the suspense if I remained here. I would much sooner go,” said Mrs. Medd, eagerly. “Be it so,” returned Mr. Brook; “I will send a messenger to your house with any note you may wish delivered, and if you will step up stairs to my wife she will, no doubt, be able to lend you anything you may require for the journey.” The lawyer and his companion traveled to town by the express, and on reaching the London terminus they were accosted by an officer in plain clothes, who addressed them by name and said he had a cab waiting. “Not so fast,” said Mr. Brook, who was a shrewd old gentleman, with a good* deal of quiet determination. “Where do you propose to take us ?” “To Bow street Police Station,” said the officer. “I think this lady requires a little rest and refreshment after her journey," returned the lawyer, quietlv. “Beside, I should like to ask you a question or two first. I will order rooms at the hotel, and perhaps you can spare us a few minutes’ conversation. ” “Certainly, sir, only the sooner we get on the better,” said the officer, rather sulkily. “Quite so. Meanwhile, I dare say,’ you will not object to drink a glass of I wine,” returned Mr. Brook, disregarding poor Mrs. Medd’s imploring glance. The lawyer gave his arm to his client and led the way to the hotel entrance, followed by the officer. Mr. Brook endeavored in vain to persuade Mrs. Medd to leave him alone with the detective, but she insisted upon being present during she interview. “Well, now, what do you know about Mr. Medd?” inquired Mr. Brook of the officer, when they were all seated in a private room. . “Nothing at all,” said the man; “I want you to assist me to find him.” “I only know he left Bilchester by the 12-o’clock train on Tuesday,” said Mr. Brook. “If so, I didn’t notice him. The prisoner Smith —the man in custody—traveled by that train, and he then had Mr. Medd’s portmanteau in his possession ; or, at least, we believe it to belong to Mr. Medd. ” “How do you know that?” “An officer had his attention drawn to Smith at Basingstoke, and his suspicions were aroused by the man’s manner, I was ordered to watch for him when the train reached here.” “Well?” “I saw at once he was disguised, and followed him to a private boardinghouse in a street off the Strand, where he took a room in the name of Smith.

Beside the portmanteau he had a black valise, which he guarded with such particular care that I began to wonder what was in it. In fact, I suspected he was one of that dynamite g an ?-” “Had your husband a black valise ?“ inquired Mr. Brook, turning to Mrs. Medd. “No; but he had a portmanteau.” “I kept a close watch on the man,” continued the the detective, “and followed him everywhere. Wherever he went he carried the valise about with him. At length I arrested him. He went to a music hall one night and came out without the valise. He said he bad been robbed of it, and seemed flustered, but we didn’t believe it at the time. W’e thought he had passed it on to some one, seeing we were after him. He refused to give any aecount of himself, or to say what was in the valise. We therefore searched his luggage, and finding a card with Mr. Medd’s name on it, and the initials S. M. on his linen, we concluded the portmanteau and its. contents belonged to Mr. Medd.” “Have you asked the man how he came by the thing?” inquired Mr. Brook. “He denies ever having heard of Mr. Medd, and says the card was given to him by mistake. The initials S. M. mean, according to him, Montague Smith, which he gives as his name; but, of course, that’s all bunkum,” said the officer, with a wink. “What sort of a person is that man Smith ?” demanded Mr. Brook. “Oh, a countryfied sort of chap. Seems as if he came up to London on a spree. Went to the Derby with a rowdy party from the boarding-house, and to theaters and music halls every night; got drunk once, and wanted to fight a policeman. I shouldn’t have arrested him if it hadn’t been for that valiseNow, sir, are you ready?” “If you will kindly wait for me below; I should like to speaji two words to the lady,” ’said Mr. Brook, can cal| a cab if you pl,ease. ”, ’. , fl , . The detective glancedjather uneasily at the lawyer and disappeared, He had barely time to- call a cab, howevbr, ere Mr. Brook descended with Mrk. Medd, who looked very pale, and. her eyes were red from weeping. “Is he a rough-looking man—this Smith?” inquired Mr. Brook, as the cab rolled over the stones. “Well, not exactly that. Stout and red-laced, with sandy hair and whiskers. Wore blue spectacles till he was arrested; but doesn’t seem to have anything the matter with his eyes. Would the lady like the window down ?” “Thank you. It is stifling hot in here, and Mrs. Medd is naturally greatly upset,” said Mr. Brook. “I suppose the prisoner has appeared before a magistrate, and been remanded for inquiries?” “Yes; he wouldn’t open his mouth, so the magistrate had no alternative,” said the officer. “To-morrow he will be brought up again, and charged with unlawful possession of property belonging to Mr. Medd—that is, of course, if the lady can identify the things. ” No further conversation took place till they reached the police station. The Inspectorin charge, a taciturn individual, proceeded without comment to the business on hand, and produced the portmanteau which had been found at the prisoner’s lodgings. “Does this belong to your husband, ma’am?” he asked, solemnly. “Certainly not,” said Mrs. Medd, with emphasis. “What! are you sure, ma’am?” interposed the officer who had accompanied them. “Quite sure. No. None of those things belong to my husband. There is a mistake,” she asseverated as the Inspector silently produced two or three articles.

“I’m afraid you’ve arrested an innocent man,” remarked Mr. Brook, rather slyly. “The only shadow of evidence against your prisoner is that card, which he probably came by quite innocently. ” “Oh, of course, that doesen’t go for much,” said the Inspector, after exchanging a meaning glance with his subordinate. “If the lady says these things don’t belong to her husband, we must believe her. No one else can identify them if she can’t. ” “Then—then this poor man will be released!” said Mrs. Medd, eagerly. “We can offer no evidence against him,” said the Inspector, shortly. “I suppose he will be released to-morrow.” Mrs. Medd, who seemed strangely agitated, was about to put further questions, when the lawyer interfered, and rather hastily led her away. “My dear madam, ” he said sharply, when they were alone in the cab, “you must leave everything to me.” “But—but —he is in prison!” exclaimed Mrs. Medd, bursting into tears. “Served him right!” growled the lawyer, under his breath. “The best thing you can do,” he added, referring to his watch, “is to return home by the next train, if you are equal to the journey. I will bring your husband back safely to-morrow. ” The poor lady who was evidently overwrought, made no objection to the proposal, and the cabman being urged to use his best speed, reached the station just in time to enable Mrs. Medd to catch the train, which was on the point of starting. Having seen her into a carriage, and watched the train glide out of the station, Mr. Brook was standing on the platform, with a gradually increasing grin on his genial face, when the detective touched him on the shoulder. “Lady gone, sir?” he inquired. “Yes. Why do ask?” demanded the lawyer. “Well, sir, putting two and two together, me and the Inspector can see which way the wind blows. As the magistrate is sitting, the Inspector will apply for the prisoner’s release at the rising of the court, and I thought the lady might be glad to know. Might have took him back with her, sir,” added the man, meaningly. “So you have fathomed this wonderful mystery,” laughed Mr. Brook. “Well, sir, I couldn’t have believed a man could be such a fool,” said the officer, looking rather embarrassed. “Why couldn’t he say who he was? W-3

should not have detained him an hour.* “I suppose he had reasons for concealing his identity,” said Mr. Brook. “He knew you had been watching him, and was afraid of awkward disclosures.” “He needn’t have been afraid of that, sir—though he certainly has had a rare spree for a parson,” said the officer. “That can’t be helped, and he richly deserves his fate,” chuckled the lawyer. “It was by my advice that Mrs. Medd did not identify the things. As you appeared to have no suspicion of the truth, it did not seem worth while to let you into the secret. However, as you have discovered it, I suppose we can rely on your discretion. ” “I’m as close as wax, sir,” said the detective, rather indignantly. “I’ll bet a guinea I know now what was in that black valise,” he added. “It contained his clerical toggery and any articles that would have revealed his identity. He must have changed his clothes in the train coming from Bilchester, and carried the valise about with him for fear his secret should be discovered.” “Well, all’s well that ends well, and I don’t think he will repeat the experiment,” said Mr. Brook, smiling. “Bring Mr. Smith in a cab to my hotel, and J will give you a £5 note.”— London Truth.