“In a letter?” The man’s voice expressed surprise.
“Yes. But why do you seem to question the statement?”
“Because I saw him in the city day before yesterday.”
“In the city!”
“Yes, sir. Either him or his ghost.”
“Oh! you’re mistaken.”
“I think not. It is rarely that I’m mistaken in the identity of any one.”
“You are, assuredly, too certain in the present instance,” said Mr. Markland, turning to the gentleman who had last spoken, “for, it’s only a few days since I received letters from him written at Savannah.”
Still the man was positive.
“He has a hair-mole on his cheek, I believe.”
Mr. Brainard and Mr. Markland looked at each other doubtingly.
“He has,” was admitted by the latter.
“But that doesn’t make identity,” said Mr. Brainard, with an incredulous smile. “I’ve seen many men, in my day, with moles on their faces.”
“True enough,” was answered; “but you never saw two Mr. Lyons.”
“You are very positive,” said Mr. Brainard, growing serious. “Now, as we believe him to be at the South, and you say that he was here on the day before yesterday, the matter assumes rather a perplexing shape. If he really was here, it is of the first importance that we should know it; for we are about trusting important interests to his hands. Where, then, and under what circumstances, did you see him?”
“I saw him twice.”
“Where?”
“The first time, I saw him alighting from a carriage, at the City Hotel. He had, apparently, just arrived, as there was a trunk behind the carriage.”
“Singular!” remarked Mr. Brainard, with a slightly disturbed manner.
“You are mistaken in the person,” said Mr. Markland, positively.
“It may be so,” returned the gentleman.
“Where did you next see him?” inquired Mr. Brainard.
“In the neighbourhood of the—Railroad Depot. Being aware that he had spent several days with Mr. Markland, it occurred to me that he was going out to call upon him.”
“Very surprising. I don’t just comprehend this,” said Mr. Markland, with a perplexed manner.
“The question is easily settled,” remarked Mr. Brainard. “Sit here a few moments, and I will step around to the City Hotel.”
And as he spoke, he arose and went quickly from his office. In about ten minutes he returned.
“Well, what is the result?” was the rather anxious inquiry of Mr. Markland.
“Can’t make it out,” sententiously answered Mr. Brainard.
“What did you learn?”
“Nothing.”
“Of course, Mr. Lyon has not been there?”
“I don’t know about that. He certainly was not there as Mr. Lyon.”
“Was any one there answering to his description?”
“Yes.”
“From the South?”
“Yes. From Richmond—so the register has it; and the name recorded is Melville.”
“You asked about him particularly?”
“I did, and the description given, both by the landlord and his clerk, corresponded in a singular manner with the appearance of Mr. Lyon. He arrived by the southern line, and appeared hurried in manner. Almost as soon as his name was registered, he inquired at what hour the cars started on the—road. He went out in an hour after his arrival, and did not return until late in the evening. Yesterday morning he left in the first southern train.”
“Well, friends, you see that I was not so very far out of the way,” said the individual who had surprised the gentlemen by asserting that Mr. Lyon was in the city only two days before.
“I can’t believe that it was Mr. Lyon.” Firmly Mr. Markland took this position.
“I would not be sworn to it—but my eyes have certainly played me false, if he were not in the city at the time referred to,” said the gentleman; “and let me say to you, that if you have important interests in his hands, which you would regard as likely to suffer were he really in our city at the time alleged, it will be wise for you to look after them a little narrowly, for, if he were not here, then was I never more mistaken in my life.”
The man spoke with a seriousness that produced no very pleasing effect upon the minds of his auditors, who were, to say the least, very considerably perplexed by what he alleged.
“The best course, in doubtful cases, is always a prudent one,” said Mr. Markland, as soon as the gentleman had retired.
“Unquestionably. And now, what steps shall we take, under this singular aspect of affairs?”
“That requires our first attention. If we could only be certain that Mr. Lyon had returned to the city.”
“Ah, yes—if we could only be certain. That he was not here, reason and common sense tell me. Opposed to this is the very positive belief of Mr. Lamar that he saw him on the day before yesterday, twice.”
“What had better be done under these circumstances?” queried Mr. Brainard.
“I wish that I could answer that question both to your satisfaction and my own,” was the perplexed answer.
“What was done in New York?”
“I had several long conferences with Mr. Fenwick, whom I found a man of extensive views. He is very sanguine, and says that he has already invested some forty thousand dollars.”
“Ah! So largely?”
“Yes; and will not hesitate to double the sum, if required.”
“His confidence is strong.”
“It is—very strong. He thinks that the fewer parties engage in the matter, the better it will be for all, if they can furnish the aggregate capital required.”
“Why?”
“The fewer persons interested, the more concert of action there will be, and the larger individual dividend on the business.”
“If there should come a dividend,” said Mr. Brainard.
“That is certain,” replied Mr. Markland, in a very confident manner. “I am quite inclined to the opinion of Mr. Fenwick, that one of the most magnificent fortunes will be built up that the present generation has seen.”
“What is his opinion of Mr. Lyon?”
“He expresses the most unbounded confidence. Has known him, and all about him, for over ten years; and says that a man of better capacity, or stricter honour, is not to be found. The parties in London, who have intrusted large interests in his hands, are not the men to confide such interests to any but the tried and proved.”
“How much will we be expected to invest at the beginning?”
“Not less than twenty thousand dollars apiece.”
“So much?”
“Yes. Only two parties in this city are to be in the Company, and we have the first offer.”
“You intend to accept?”
“Of course. In fact, I have accepted. At the same time, I assured Mr. Fenwick that he might depend on you.”
“But for this strange story about Mr. Lyon’s return to the city—a death’s-head at our banquet—there would not be, in my mind, the slightest hesitation.”
“It is only a shadow,” said Mr. Markland.
“Shadows do not create themselves,” replied Mr. Brainard.
“No; but mental shadows do not always indicate the proximity of material substance. If Mr. Lyon wrote to you that he was about starting for Mexico, depend upon it, he is now speeding away in that direction. He is not so sorry a trifler as Mr Lamar’s hasty conclusion would indicate.”
“A few days for reflection and closer scrutiny will not in the smallest degree affect the general issue, and may develope facts that will show the way clear before us,” said Mr. Brainard. “Let us wait until we hear again from Mr. Lyon, before we become involved in large responsibilities.”
“I do not see how I can well hold back,” replied Mr. Markland. “I have, at least, honourably bound myself to Mr. Fenwick.”
“A few days can make no difference, so far as that is concerned,” said Mr. Brainard, “and may develope facts of the most serious importance. Suppose it should really prove true that Mr. Lyon returned, in a secret manner, from the South, would you feel yourself under obligation to go forward without the clearest explanation of the fact?”