CHAPTER XXIV
AN UNPARALLELED OUTRAGE
"Do you care for the seaside?" asked the man in the corner when he hadfinished his lunch. "I don't mean the seaside at Ostend or Trouville,but honest English seaside with nigger minstrels, three-shillingexcursionists, and dirty, expensive furnished apartments, where theycharge you a shilling for lighting the hall gas on Sundays and sixpenceon other evenings. Do you care for that?"
"I prefer the country."
"Ah! perhaps it is preferable. Personally I only liked one of ourEnglish seaside resorts once, and that was for a week, when EdwardSkinner was up before the magistrate, charged with what was known as the'Brighton Outrage.' I don't know if you remember the memorable day inBrighton, memorable for that elegant town, which deals more inamusements than mysteries, when Mr. Francis Morton, one of its mostnoted residents, disappeared. Yes! disappeared as completely as anyvanishing lady in a music-hall. He was wealthy, had a fine house,servants, a wife and children, and he disappeared. There was no gettingaway from that.
"Mr. Francis Morton lived with his wife in one of the large houses inSussex Square at the Kemp Town end of Brighton. Mrs. Morton was wellknown for her Americanisms, her swagger dinner parties, and beautifulParis gowns. She was the daughter of one of the many Americanmillionaires (I think her father was a Chicago pork-butcher), whoconveniently provide wealthy wives for English gentlemen; and she hadmarried Mr. Francis Morton a few years ago and brought him her quarterof a million, for no other reason but that she fell in love with him. Hewas neither good-looking nor distinguished, in fact, he was one of thosemen who seem to have CITY stamped all over their person.
"He was a gentleman of very regular habits, going up to London everymorning on business and returning every afternoon by the 'husband'strain.' So regular was he in these habits that all the servants at theSussex Square house were betrayed into actual gossip over the fact thaton Wednesday, March 17th, the master was not home for dinner. Hales, thebutler, remarked that the mistress seemed a bit anxious and didn't eatmuch food. The evening wore on and Mr. Morton did not appear. At nineo'clock the young footman was dispatched to the station to makeinquiries whether his master had been seen there in the afternoon, orwhether--which Heaven forbid--there had been an accident on the line.The young man interviewed two or three porters, the bookstall boy, andticket clerk; all were agreed that Mr. Morton did not go up to Londonduring the day; no one had seen him within the precincts of the station.There certainly had been no accident reported either on the up or downline.
"But the morning of the 18th came, with its initial postman's knock, butneither Mr. Morton nor any sign or news from him. Mrs. Morton, whoevidently had spent a sleepless night, for she looked sadly changed andhaggard, sent a wire to the hall porter at the large building in CannonStreet, where her husband had his office. An hour later she had thereply: 'Not seen Mr. Morton all day yesterday, not here to-day.' By theafternoon every one in Brighton knew that a fellow-resident hadmysteriously disappeared from or in the city.
"A couple of days, then another, elapsed, and still no sign of Mr.Morton. The police were doing their best. The gentleman was so wellknown in Brighton--as he had been a resident two years--that it was notdifficult to firmly establish the one fact that he had not left thecity, since no one saw him in the station on the morning of the 17th,nor at any time since then. Mild excitement prevailed throughout thetown. At first the newspapers took the matter somewhat jocosely. 'Whereis Mr. Morton?' was the usual placard on the evening's contents bills,but after three days had gone by and the worthy Brighton resident wasstill missing, while Mrs. Morton was seen to look more haggard andcareworn every day, mild excitement gave place to anxiety.
"There were vague hints now as to foul play. The news had leaked outthat the missing gentleman was carrying a large sum of money on the dayof his disappearance. There were also vague rumours of a scandal notunconnected with Mrs. Morton herself and her own past history, which inher anxiety for her husband she had been forced to reveal to thedetective-inspector in charge of the case.
"Then on Saturday the news which the late evening papers contained wasthis:
"'Acting on certain information received, the police to-day forced anentrance into one of the rooms of Russell House, a high-class furnishedapartment on the King's Parade, and there they discovered our missingdistinguished townsman, Mr. Francis Morton, who had been robbed andsubsequently locked up in that room since Wednesday, the 17th. Whendiscovered he was in the last stages of inanition; he was tied into anarm-chair with ropes, a thick wool shawl had been wound round his mouth,and it is a positive marvel that, left thus without food and verylittle air, the unfortunate gentleman survived the horrors of these fourdays of incarceration.
"'He has been conveyed to his residence in Sussex Square, and we arepleased to say that Doctor Mellish, who is in attendance, has declaredhis patient to be out of serious danger, and that with care and rest hewill be soon quite himself again.
"'At the same time our readers will learn with unmixed satisfaction thatthe police of our city, with their usual acuteness and activity, havealready discovered the identity and whereabouts of the cowardly ruffianwho committed this unparalleled outrage.'"