and was interested for Jem, else his nervousness would have overcome his sympathy long before it did. But he could hold out no longer against the monotonous, grating sound; so at last he threw down his pen, locked his portfolio, and taking up his hat and gloves, he told Job he must go to the courts.
"But Will Wilson is not come," said Job, in dismay. "Just wait while I run to his lodgings. I would have done it before, but I thought they'd be here every minute, and I were afraid of missing them. I'll be back in no time."
"No, my good fellow, I really must go. Besides, I begin to think Johnson must have made a mistake, and have fixed with this William Wilson to meet me at the courts. If you like to wait for him here, pray make use of my room; but I've a notion I shall find him there: in which case, I'll send him to your lodgings; shall I? You know where to find me. I shall be here again by eight o'clock, and with the evidence of this witness that's to prove the alibi, I'll have the brief drawn out, and in the hands of counsel to-night."
So saying he shook hands with Job, and went his way. The old man considered for a minute as he lingered at the door, and then bent his steps towards Mrs. Jones's, where he knew (from reference to queer, odd, heterogeneous memoranda, in an ancient black-leather pocket-book) that Will lodged, and where he doubted not he should hear both of him and of Mary.
He went there, and gathered what intelligence he could out of Mrs. Jones's slow replies.
He asked if a young woman had been there that morning, and if she had seen Will Wilson. "No!"
"Why not?"
"Why, bless you, 'cause he had sailed some hours before she came asking for him."
There was a dead silence, broken only by the even, heavy sound of Mrs. Jones's ironing.
"Where is the young woman now?" asked Job.
"Somewhere down at the docks," she thought. "Charley would know, if he was in, but he wasn't. He was in mischief, somewhere or other, she had no doubt. Boys always were. He would break his neck some day, she knew;" so saying, she quietly spat upon her fresh iron, to test its heat, and then went on with her business.
Job could have boxed her, he was in such a state of irritation. But he did not, and he had his reward. Charley came in, whistling with an air of indifference, assumed to carry off his knowledge of the lateness of the hour to which he had lingered about the docks.
"Here's an old man come to know where the young woman is who went out with thee this morning," said his mother, after she had bestowed on him a little motherly scolding.
"Where she is now, I don't know. I saw her last sailing down the river after the John Cropper. I'm afeared she won't reach her; wind changed and she would be under weigh, and over the bar in no time. She should have been back by now."
It took Job some little time to understand this, from the confused use of the feminine pronoun. Then he inquired how he could best find Mary.
"I'll run down again to the pier," said the boy; "I'll warrant I'll find her."
"Thou shalt do no such a thing," said his mother, setting her back against the door. The lad made a comical face at Job, which met with no responsive look from the old man, whose sympathies were naturally in favour of the parent; although he would thankfully have availed himself of Charley's offer, for he was weary, and anxious to return to poor Mrs. Wilson, who would be wondering what had become of him.
"How can I best find her? Who did she go with, lad?"
But Charley was sullen at his mother's exercise of authority before a stranger, and at that stranger's grave looks when he meant to have made him laugh.
"They were river boatmen;—that's all I know," said he.
"But what was the name of their boat?" persevered Job.
"I never took no notice;—the Anne, or William,—or some of them common names, I'll be bound."
"What pier did she start from?" asked Job, despairingly.
"Oh, as for that matter, it were the stairs on the Prince's Pier she started from; but she'll not come back to the same, for the American steamer came up with the tide, and anchored close to it, blocking up the way for all the smaller craft. It's a rough evening too, to be out on," he maliciously added.
"Well, God's will be done! I did hope we could have saved the lad," said Job, sorrowfully; "but I'm getten very doubtful again. I'm uneasy about Mary, too,—very. She's a stranger in Liverpool."
"So she told me," said Charley. "There's traps about for young women at every corner. It's a pity she's no one to meet her when she lands."
"As for that," replied Job, "I don't see how any one could meet her when we can't tell where she would come to. I must trust to her coming right. She's getten spirit and sense. She'll most likely be for coming here again. Indeed, I don't know what else she can do, for she knows no other place in Liverpool. Missus, if she comes, will you give your son leave to bring her to No. 8, Back Garden Court, where there's friends waiting for her? I'll give him sixpence for his trouble."
Mrs. Jones, pleased with the reference to her, gladly promised. And even Charley, indignant as he was at first at the idea of his motions being under the control of his mother, was mollified at the prospect of the sixpence, and at the probability of getting nearer to the heart of the mystery.
But Mary never came.
Chapter XXX.
Job Legh's Deception
"Poor Susan moans, poor Susan groans;
The clock gives warning for eleven;
'Tis on the stroke—'He must be near,'
Quoth Betty, 'and will soon be here,
As sure as there's a moon in heaven.'
The clock is on the stroke of twelve,
And Johnny is not yet in sight,
—The moon's in heaven, as Betty sees,
But Betty is not quite at ease;
And Susan has a dreadful night."
Wordsworth.
Job found Mrs. Wilson pacing about in a restless way; not speaking to the woman at whose house she was staying, but occasionally heaving such deep oppressive sighs as quite startled those around her.
"Well!" said she, turning sharp round in her tottering walk up and down, as Job came in.
"Well, speak!" repeated she, before he could make up his mind what to say; for, to tell the truth, he was studying for some kind-hearted lie which might soothe her for a time. But now the real state of the case came blurting forth in answer to her impatient questioning.
"Will's not to the fore. But he'll may be turn up yet, time enough."
She looked at him steadily for a minute, as if almost doubting
