70. CHAPTER LXX.
He is composed and framed of treachery,
And fled he is upon this villany.
— Much Ado about Nothing.
Edward Meredith, the affianced bridegroom of Miss
Fanny Euston, sailing on a smooth sea, under full canvas,
towards the pleasing but perilous bounds of matrimony, was
walking in the morning towards the post office, in the frame
of mind proper to his condition. He passed that place of
unrest where the Law hangs her blazons from every window,
and approached the heart and brain of the city, the precinct
sacred to commerce and finance. Here, gathered about a
corner, he saw a crowd, elbowing each other with unusual
vehemence. Meredith, with all despatch, crossed over to the
opposite side. But here, again, his attention was caught by a
singular clamor among the rabble of newsboys, as noisy and
intrusive as a flight of dorr-bugs on a June evening. And,
not far off, another crowd was gathered at the office of the
Weekly Sink. Curiosity became too strong for his native
antipathy. He saw an acquaintance, with a crushed hat, and
a face of bewildered amazement, just struggling out of the
press.
“What's the row?” demanded Meredith.
“Go and read that paper,” returned the other, with an astonished
ejaculation, of more emphasis than unction.
Meredith shouldered into the crowd, looked over the hats
of some, between the hats of others, and saw, pasted to the
stone door post, a placard large as the handbill of a theatre.
Over it was displayed a sheet of paper, on which was daubed,
in ink, the words, Astounding Disclosures!!! Crime in
High Life!!!! And on the placard he beheld the names
of his classmate Horace Vinal, and his friend Vassall
Morton.
Meredith pushed and shouldered with the boldest, gained
a favorable position, braced himself there, and ran his eye
through the whole. Then, with a convulsive effort, he regained
his liberty, beckoned a newsboy, and purchased the
extra sheet of the Weekly Sink. Here, however, he learned
very little. The editor, taught wisdom by experience, had
tempered malice with caution. He spoke of the duty he owed
to the public, his position as guardian and censor of the public
morals, and affirmed that, in this capacity, he had that
morning received through the post office the original of the
letter of which a copy was printed on the placards posted in
various parts of the city. With the letter had come also
an anonymous note, highly complimentary to himself in his
official capacity, a copy of which he subjoined. As for the
letter, he did not think himself called upon to give it immediate
publicity in his columns; but he would submit it for
inspection to any persons anxious to see it, after which he
should place it in the hands of the police.
Though the editor of the Sink was thus discreet, the letter,
in the course of the day, found its way into several of the
penny papers, to which copies of the placard containing it
had been mailed. From the dram shop to the drawing room,
the commotion was unspeakable. The mass of readers floundered
in a sea of crude conjecture; but those who knew the
parties, recalling a faint and exploded rumor of Morton's engagement
to Miss Leslie, and connecting it with her separation
from Vinal, gained a glimpse of something like the truth.
The only new light thrown upon the matter came from the
servant, who told all that he knew, and much more, of the
nocturnal scene between Speyer and Vinal, affirming, with
much complacency, that he had saved his master's life. Miss
Leslie and Mrs. Ashland studiously kept silent. Morton was
at the antipodes; while the unknown divulger of the mystery
eluded all attempts to trace him. Speyer, in fact, having
sprung his mine, had fled from his danger and his debts, and
taking passage for New Orleans, sailed thence to Vera Cruz.
Meredith, perplexed and astounded, wrote a letter to Morton,
directing it to Calcutta, whither the latter was to repair,
after voyaging among the East India Islands.
Meanwhile, great search was made for Vinal; but Vinal
was nowhere to be found.
