For name and fame : or, Through Afghan passes

Front matter

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Contents

CHAP. Page

I. The Lost Child, 9

II. The Foundling, 26

Chapter I. The Lost Child

Y poor pets!" a lady exclaimed sorrowfully; " it is too bad. They all knew me so well, and ran to meet me w^hen they saw me coming, and seemed really pleased to see me even when I had no food to give them."

" Which was not often, my dear," Captain Ripon, her husband, said. "However, it is, as you say, too bad, and I will bring the fellow to justice if I can. There are twelve prize fowls worth a couple of guineas apiece, not to mention the fact of their being pets of yours, stolen, probably by tramps, who will eat them, and for whom the commonest barn-door chickens would have done as well. There are marks of blood in two or three places, so they have evidently been killed for food. The house was locked up last night all right

10 THE LOST FOWLS.

for yon see they got in by breaking in a panel o£ the door. Robson, run down to the village at once, and tell the policeman to come up here, and ask if any gypsies or tramps have been seen in the neighbourhood."

The village lay at the gate of Captain Ripon's park, and the gardener soon returned with the policeman.

" I've heard say there are some gypsies camped on Netherwood Common, four miles aAvay," that functionary said in answer to Captain Ripon.

"Put the gray mare in the dog-cart, Sam; we will drive over at once, they will hardly expect us so soon. We will pick up another policeman at Netherwood; they may show fight if Ave are not in strength."

Five minutes later Captain Ripon was travelling along the road at the rate of twelve miles an hour, with Sam by his side, and the policeman sitting behind. At Netherwood they took up another policeman, and a few minutes later drove up to the gypsy encampment.

There was a slight stir when they were seen approaching, and then the gypsies went on with their usual work, the women weavino- baskets from osiers, the men cutting up gorse into skewers. There were four low tents, and a wagon stood near, a bony horse OTazimj on the common.

"Now," Captain Ripon said, "I am a magistrate, and I daresay you know what I have come for. My fowl-house has been broken open, and some valuable

A GYPSY CAMP. 11

fowls stolen. Now, policeman, look about and see if you can find any traces of them."

The gypsies rose to their feet with angry gestures.

"Why do you come to us?" one of the men said. " When a fowl is stolen you always suspect us, as if there were no other thieves in the world."

" There are plenty of other thieves, my friend, and we shall not interfere with you if we find nothing suspicious."

" There have been some fowls plucked here," one of the policemen said; "here is a little feather" — and he showed one of only half an inch in length — "and there is another on that woman's hair. They have cleaned them up nicely enough, but it ain't easy to pick up every feather. I'll be bound we find a fowl in the pot."

Two of the gypsies leapt forward, stick in hand; but the oldest man present said a word or two to them in their own dialect.

"You may look in the pot," he said, turning to Captain Ripon, " and maybe you will find a fowl there with other things; w^e bought 'em at the market at Hunston yesterday."

The policeman lifted the lid qf^ the great pot which was hanging over the fire, and stirred up the contents with a stick.

" There's rabbits here, two or three of them, I should say, and a fowl, perhaps two, but they are cut up."

" I cannot swear to that," Captain Ripon said, exam-

12 A PIECE OF EVIDENCE.

ining the portions of fowl, " though the plumpness of the breasts and the size show that they are not ordinary fowls." He looked round again at the tents. " But I can pretty well sw^ear to this," he said, as he stooped and picked up a feather which lay half concealed between the edge of one of the tents and the grass. "This is a breast-feather of a Spangled Dorking. These are not birds which would be sold for eating in Hunston market, and it will be for these men to show where they got it from."

A smothered oath broke from one or two of the men. The elder signed to them to be quiet. " That's not proof," he said insolently. " You can't convict five men because the feather of a fowl which you cannot swear to is found in their camp."

" No," Captain Ripon said quietly. " I do not want to convict any one but the thief; but the proof is sufficient for taking you in custody, and we shall find out which was the guilty man afterwards. Now, lads, it will be worse for you if you make trouble. Constables, take them up to Mr. Bailey; he lives half a mile away. Fortunately, we have means of proving which is the fellow concerned. Now, Sam, you and I will go up with the Netherwood constable to Mr. Bailey; and do you," he said to the other policeman, "keep a sharp watch over these women. You say you can find nothing in the tents, but it is likely the other fowls are hid not far off, and I will put all the boys of the village to search when I come back."

A FOOTMARK. 13

The gypsies, with sullen faces, accompanied Captain Ripon and the policeman to the magistrate's.

"Is that feather the only proof you have, Eipon?" Mr. Bailey asked when he had given his evidence. " I do not think that it will be enough to convict if unsupported; besides, you cannot bring it home to any one of them. But it is sufficient for me to have them locked up for twenty-four hours, and, in the meantime, you may find the other fowls."

" But I have means of identification," Captain Ripon said. " There is a footmark in some earth at the fowl-house door. It is made by a boot which has got hobnails and a horse-shoe heel, and a piece of that heel has been broken oflf. Now, which of these men has got such a boot on? Whichever has he is the man." There was a sudden movement among the accused.

" It's of no use," one of them said when the policeman approached to examine their boots. " I'm the man, I'll admit it. I can't get over the boot;" and he held up his right foot.

"That is the boot, sir," the constable exclaimed; " I can swear that it will fit the impression exactly."

"Very well," the magistrate said. "Constable, take that man to the lock-up, and bring him before the bench to-morrow for final committal for trial. There is no evidence against the other four. They can go."

With surly threatening faces the men left the room, while the constable placed handcuflfs on the prisoner.

" Constable," Mr. Bailey said, " you had better not

14 A VISITOR.

put this man in the village lock-up. The place is of no great strength, and his comrades would as likely as not get him out to-night. Put him in my dog-cart; my groom shall drive you over to Hunston." - Captain Ripon returned with his groom to Netherwood, and set all the children searching the gorse, copses, and hedges near the common by the promise of ten shillings reward if they found the missing fowls.

Half an hour later the gypsies struck tlieir tents, loaded the van, and went off.

Late that afternoon the ten missing fowls were discovered in a small copse by the wayside, half a mile from the common on the road to Captain Ripon's park.

" I cannot bring your fowls back to life, Emma," that gentleman said when he returned home, " but I have got the thief. It was one of the gypsies on Netherwood Common. We found two of the fowls in their pot. No doubt they thought that they would have plenty of time to get their dinner before anyone came, even if suspicion fell on them ; and they have hidden the rest away somewhere, but I expect that we shall find them. They had burnt all the feathers, as they thought; but I found a breast-feather of a Spangled Dorking, and that was enough for me to give them in custody. Then, when it came to the question of boots, the thief found it no good to deny it any longer/'

That evening Captain Ripon was told that a woman wished to speak to him, and on going out into the hall he saw a gypsy of some thirty years of age.

A THREAT. 15

" I have come, sir, to beg you not to appear against my husband."

"But, my good woman, I see no reason "wh}^ I should not do so. If he had only stolen a couple of common fowls for a sick wife or child I might have been inclined to overlook it, for I am not fond of sending men to prison; but to steal a dozen valuable fowls for the pot is a little too much. Besides, the matter has gone too far now for me to retiact, even if I wished to, which I certainly do not."

" He is a good husband, sir."

" He may be," Captain Bipon said, " th-ough that black eye you have got does not speak in his favour. But that has nothing to do with it; matters must take their course."

The woman changed her tone.

"I have asked you fairly, sir; and it will be better for you if you don't prosecute Reuben."

"Oh, nonsense, my good woman! Don't let me have any threats, or it will be worse for you."

" I tell you," the woman exclaimed fiercely, " it will be the worse for you if you appear against my Reuben."

" There, go out," Captain Ripon said, opening the front door of the hall. " As if I cared for your ridiculous threats ! Your husband will get what he deserves — five years, if I am not mistaken."

"You will repent this," the gypsy said as she passed out.

Captain Ripon closed the door after her without a word.

16 A NERVOUS WIFE.

"'Well, who was it?" his wife inquired when he returned to the drawing-room.

" An insolent gypsy woman, wife of the man who stole the fowls. She had the impudence to threaten me if I appeared against him."

"Oh, Robert!" the young wife exclaimed apprehensively, " what could she do ? Perhaps you had better not appear."

" Nonsense, my dear!" her husband laughed. " Not appear because an impudent gypsy woman has threatened me? A nice magistrate I should be! Why, half the fellows wdio are committed swear that they will pay off the magistrate some day, but nothing ever comes of it. Here we have been married six months, and you are wanting me to neglect my duty, especially when it is your pet fowls which have been stolen. " Why, at the worst, my dear," he went on, seeing that his wife still looked pale, "they could burn down a rick or two on a windy night in winter; and to satisfy you I will have an extra sharp look-out kept in that direction, and have a watch-dog chained up near them. Come, my love, it is not worth giving a second thought about, and I shall not tell you about my work on the bench if you are going to take matters to heart like this."

The winter came and went, and the ricks were untouched, and Captain Ripon forgot all about the gypsy's threats. At the assizes a previous conviction was proved against her husband, and he got five years'

A BLOOD-MARK. 17

penal servitude, and after the trial was over the matter passed out of the minds of both husband and wife. They had indeed other matters to think about, for soon after Christmas a baby boy was born and monopolized the greater portion of his mother's thoughts. When in due time he was taken out for walks the old women of the village, perhaps with an eye to presents from the Park, were unanimous in declaring that he was the finest boy ever seen, and the image both of his father and mother. He certainly was a fine baby, and his mother lamented sorely over the fact that he had a dark blood-mark about the size of a threepenny piece upon his shoulder. Her husband, however, consoled her by pointing out that, as it was a boy, the mark did not matter in the slightest, whereas, had it been a girl, the mark would have been a disfigurement when she attained to the dignified age at which low dresses arew^orn.

"Yes, of course, that would have been dreadful, Robert; still, you know, it is a pity."

"I really cannot see that it is even a pity, little woman; and it would have made no great difference if he had been spotted all over like a leopard, so that his face and arms were free; the only drawback would have been he would have got some nickname or other, such as ' the Leopard,' or ' Spotty,' or something of that sort when he went to bathe with his school-fellows. But this little spot does not matter in the slightest. Some day or other Tom will laugh when I tell him what a fuss you made over it."

18 TOM ripon's progress.

Mrs. Ripon was silenced, but although she said nothing more about it, she was grieved in her heart at this little blemish on her boy, and lamented that it would spoil his appearance when he began to run about in little short frocks, and she determined at once that he should wear long curls until he got into jackets.

Summer, autumn, and winter came and passed. In the spring Tom Kipon was toddling about, but he had not yet begun to talk, although his mother declared that certain incoherent sounds which he made were quite plain and distinct words; but her husband, while willing to allow that they might be perfectly intelligible to her, insisted that to the male ear they in no way resembled words.

" But he ought to begin to talk, Robert," his wife urged. " He is sixteen months old now, and can run about quite well. He really ought to begin to talk."

" He will talk before long," her husband said carelessly. "Many children do not talk till they are eighteen months old, some not till they are two years. Besides, you say he does begin already."

" Yes, Robert, but not quite plainly."

" No, indeed, not plainly at all," her husband laughed. " Don't trouble, my dear, he will talk soon enough, and if he only talks as loud as he roars sometimes, you will regret the hurry you have been in about it."

"Oh, Robert, how can you talk so? I am sure he does not cry more than other children. Nurse says he is the best child she ever knew."

A PRODIGY. 19

"Of course she does, my dear; nurses always do. But I don't say he roars more than other children. I only say he roars, and that loudly; so you need not be afraid of there being anything the matter with his tongue or his lungs. What fidgets you young mothers are, to be sure!"

" And what heartless things you young fathers are, to be sure ! " his wife retorted, laughing. " Men don't deserve to have children, they do not appreciate them one bit."

"We appreciate them in our way, little woman, but it is not a fussy way. We are content with them as they are, and are not in any hurry for them to run, or to walk, or to cut their first teeth. Tom is a fine little chap, and I am very fond of him in his way, principally, perhaps, because he is your Tom; but I cannot see that he is a prodigy."

" He is a prodigy," Mrs. Ripon said, with a little toss of her head, "and I shall go up to the nursery to admire him." So saying she walked ofi' with dignity, and Captain Ripon went out to look at his horses, and thought to himself what a wonderful dispensation of providence it was that mothers were so fond of their babies.

" I don't know what the poor little beggars would do," he muttered, "if they had only their fathers to look after them; but I suppose we should take to it, just as the old goose in the yard has taken to that brood of chickens whose mother was carried off by the

20 TOM MISSING.

fox. By the way, I must order some wire-netting; I forgot to write for it yesterday."

Another two months. It was June; and now even Captain Eipon allowed that Tom could say " Pa " and "Ma" with tolerable distinctness, but as yet he had got no farther. He could now run about sturdily; and as the season was warm and bright, and Mrs. Eipon believed in fresh air, the child spent a considerable portion of his time in the garden. One day his mother was out with him, and he had been running about for some time. Mrs. Ripon was picking flowers, for she had a dinner-party that evening, and she enjoj^ed getting her flowers and arranging her vases herself. Presently she looked round, but Tom was missing. There were many clumps of ornamental shrubs on the lawn, and Mrs. Ripon thought nothing of his disappearance.

*' Tom," she called, " come to mamma, she wants you," and went on with her work.

A minute or two passed.

"Where is that little pickle?" she said. "Hiding, I suppose;" and she went off in search. Nowhere was Tom to be seen. She called loudly, and searched in the bushes.

"He must have gone up to the house. Oh, here comes nurse. Nurse, have you seen Master Tom? he has just run away," she called.

" No, ma'am, I have seen^nothing of him."

"He must be about the <iarden then, somewhere.

AN ANXIOUS SEARCH. 21

Look about, nurse; where can the child have hidden itself?"

Nurse and mother ran about, calling loudly the name of the missing child. Five minutes later Mrs. Ripon ran into the study, where her husband was going throuo'h his farm accounts.

" Oh, Robert," she said, " I can't find Tom!" and she burst into tears.

"Not find Tom?" her husband said, rising in surprise. " Why, how long have you missed him?"

"He was out in the garden with me; I was picking flowers for the dinner- table, and when I looked round he was gone. Nurse and I have been looking everywhere, and calling, but we cannot find him."

" Oh, he is all right," Captain Ripon said cheerfully; "do not alarm yourself, little woman; he must have wandered into the shrubbery; we shall hear him howling directly. But I will come and look for him."

No better success attended Captain Ripon's search than that which his wife had met with. He looked anxious now. The gardeners and servants were called, and soon every place in the garden was ransacked.

" He must have got through the gate somehow into the park," Captain Ripon said, hurrying in that direction. " He certainly is not in the garden or in any of the hothouses."

Some of the men had already gone in that direction. Presently Captain Ripon met one running back.

"I have been down to the f^'ate, sir, and can see

22 AN OMINOUS DISCOVERY.

nothing of Master Tom; but in the middle of the drive, just by the clump of laurels by the gate, this boot was lying, just as if it had been put there on purpose to be seen."

"Nonsense!" Captain Ripon said. "What can that have to do with it?" Nevertheless he took the boot and looked at it. It was a roughly made heavy boot, such as would be worn by a labouring man. He was about to throw it carelessly aside, and to proceed on his search, when he happened to turn it over. Then he started as if struck. " Good Heaven ! " he exclaimed, '' it is the gypsy's." Yes, he remembered it now. The man had pleaded not guilty when brought up at the assizes, and the boot had been produced as evidence. He remembered it particularly because, after the man was sentenced, his wife had provoked a smile by asking that the boots might be given up to her in exchange for a better pair for her husband to put on when discharged from prison. Yes, it was clear. The gypsy woman had kept her word, and had taken her revenge. She had stolen the child, and had placed the boot where it would attract attention, in order that the parents might know the hand that struck them. Instantly Captain Ripon ran to the stable, ordered the groom to mount at once, and scour every road and lane, while he himself rode off to Hunston to give notice to the police, and offer a large reward for the child's recovery.

He charged the man who had brought the boot to carry it away, and put it in a place of safety till it

ENERGETIC MEASURES. 23

was required; and on no account to mention to a soul where he put it.

Before riding off, he ran in to his wife, who was half wild with grief, to tell her that he was going to search outside the park, and that she must keep up her spirits, for no doubt Tom would turn up all right in no time.

He admitted to himself, however, as he galloped away, that he was not altogether sure that Tom w^ould be so speedily recovered. The woman would never have dared to place the boot on the road, and so give a clue against herself, unless she felt very confident that she could get away or conceal herself.

" She has probably some hiding-place close by the park," he said to himself, "where she will lie hid till night, and will tlien make across country."

He paused at the village, and set the whole population at work by telling them that his child was missing, and had, he believed, been carried off by a gypsy woman; and that he would give fifty pounds to anyone who would find him. She could not be far off, as it was only about half an hour since the child had been missed.

Then he galloped to Hunston, set the police at work; and, going to a printer, told him instantly to set up and strike off" placards ofi'ering five hundred pounds reward for the recovery of the child. This was to be done in an hour or two, and then taken to the police station for distribution throughout the country round.

24 A CHEERING REFLECTION.

Having now done all in his power, Captain Ripon rode back as rapidly as he had come, in hopes that the child might already have been found.

No news had, however, been obtained of him, nor had anyone seen any strange woman in the neighbourhood.

On reaching the house he found his wife prostrated with grief; and, in answer to her questions, he thought it better to tell her about the discovery of the boot.

" We may be some little time before we find the boy," he said, " but we shall find him sooner or later. I have got placards out already, ofi"ering five hundred pounds reward; and this evening I will send advertisements to all the papers in this and the neighbouring counties. Do not fret, darling. The woman has done it out of spite, no doubt; but she will not risk putting her neck in a noose by harming the child. It is a terrible grief, but it will only be for a time; we are sure to find him before long."

Later in the evening, when Mrs. Ripon had somewhat recovered her composure, she said to her husband:

" How strange are God's ways, Robert; how wicked and wrong in us to grumble! I was foolish enough to fret over that mark on the darling's neck, and now the thought of it is my greatest comfort. If it should be God's will that months or years should pass over before we find him, there is a sign by which we shall always know him. No other child can be palmed off* upon us as our own; when we find Tom we shall know him, however changed he may be!"

NO NEWS. 25

"Yes, dear," her husband said, ''God is very good, and this trial may be sent us for the best. As you say, we can take comfort now from what we were disposed to think at the time a little cross. After that, dear, we may surely trust in God. That mark was placed there that we might know our boy again; and were it not decreed that we should again see him, that mark would have been useless."

The thought, for a time, greatly cheered Mrs. Ripon ; but gradually the hope that she should ever see her boy again faded away, and Captain Ripon became much alarmed at the manifest change in her health.

In spite of all Captain Ripon could do, no news was obtained of the gypsy or Tom. For weeks he rode about the country asking questions in every village, or hurried away to distant parts of England, where the police thought they had a clue.

It was all in vain. Every gypsy encampment in the kingdom was searched, but without avail; and even the police, sharp-eyed as they are, could not guess that the decent-looking Irishwoman, speaking — when she did speak, which was seldom, for she was a taciturn woman — with a strong brogue, working in a laundry in a small street in the Potteries, Notting Hill, was the gypsy they were looking for; or that the little boy, whose father she said was at sea, was the child for whose discovery a thousand pounds was continually advertised.

Chapter II. The Foundling

VJiT was a bitterly cold night in January. The wind was roaring across the flats and fens ■J of Cambridgeshire, driving tiny flakes of snow before it. But few people had been about all day, and those whose business compelled them to face the weather had hurried along mufiied up to the chin. It was ten at night, and the porter and his wife at the workhouse at Ely had just gone to bed, when the woman exclaimed, " Sam, 1 hear a child crying."

''Oh, nonsense!" the man replied, drawing the bedclothes higher over his head; "it is the wind; it's been whistling all day."

The woman was silent but not convinced. Presently she sat up in bed. '' I tell ydu, Sam, it's a child; don't you hear it, man? Its a child outside the gate. On such a night as this too. Get up, man, and see; if you won't I will go myself."

" Lie still, woman, it's all thy fancy."

"You are a fool, Sam Dickson," his wife said sharply. " Do you think I have lived to the age of forty-flve.

THE WORKHOUSE GATE. 27

and don't know a child's cry when I hear it ? Now are you going to get up, or am I ?"

With much grumbling the porter turned out of bed, slipped on a pair of trousers and a greatcoat, took down the key from the wall, lighted a lantern, and went out. He opened the gate and looked out. There was nothing to be seen, and he was about to close the gate again with a curse on his wife's fancies, when a fresh cry broke on his ears. He hurried out now, and, directed by the voice, found lying near the gate a child wrapped in a dark-coloured shawl, which had prevented him from seeing it at his first glance. There was no one else in sight. The man lifted his lantern above his head and gave a shout. There was no answer. Then he raised the child and carried it in, locked the door, and entered the lodge.

"You are right for once," he said. " Here is a child, and a pretty heavy one too. It has been deserted by some one; and a heartless creature she must have been, for in another half-hour it would have been frozen to death if you had not heard it."

The woman was out of bed now. " It is a boy," she said, opening the shawl, " about two years old, I should say. Don't cry, my boy — don't cry. It's half-frozen, Sam. The best thing will be to put it into our bed, that has just got warm. I will warm it up a little milk. It's no use taking it into the ward to-night."

Ten minutes later the child was sound asleep, the porter, who was a good-natured man, having gone over

28 THE WAIF.

to sleep in an empty bed in the house, leaving the child to share his wife's bed.

In the morning the foundling opened its eyes and looked round. Seeing everything strange it began to cry.