John G. Nicolay and John Hay - "Abraham Lincoln: A History V1"

John Lothrop Motley - "History of the United Netherlands, 1608(b)"

Louis Antoine Fauvelet de Bourrienne - "Memoirs of Napoleon Bonaparte, V8"

A. Merritt - "The Moon Pool"

New Philadelphia Book Publisher Highlights Local Talent
Book and Publishing News from Publishers Newswire(tm)

Looking for Child to be on Cover of a New Book, 'The Model Child'
PHILADELPHIA, Pa. -- The Philadelphia literary world will celebrate the launch of two new players today, April 10th: Kay Square Press, a new publishing company focused on Philadelphia-area artists, their stories, and their art; and Kay Square's first release, 'With the Rich and Mighty: Emlen Etting of Philadelphia' (ISBN: 978-0-9815129-0-7), a critical biography by Kenneth C. Kaleta.

FlatSigned Press Alleges Don Imus Remarks Damage Legacy of President Gerald R. Ford
NEW YORK, N.Y. -- Nathan Yungerberg, an accomplished model scout and professional child photographer is launching a nation-wide casting call to find the cover model for his highly anticipated book release, 'The Model Child: A Parents Guide to the Child Modeling Industry' (ISBN: 978-0-9817018-0-6).

Books: The Living Link

J >> James De Mille >> The Living Link




Miss Plympton, seeing that this shot had told, followed it up.

"Refuse me admittance," said she, "and I will bring back those who will
come here in the name of the law; but if you let me in, I promise to say
nothing about this matter."

The porter now seemed to have recovered himself. He raised his head, and
the old monotonous reply came:

"Sorry, mum, but it's agin orders."

Miss Plympton made one further attempt. She drew forth her purse, and
displayed its contents.

"See," said she, "you will be doing a kindness to your master, and you
shall have all this."

But the man did not look at the purse at all. His eyes were fixed on
Miss Plympton, and he merely replied as before:

"Sorry, mum, but it's agin orders."

"Very well," said Miss Plympton. "There is only one thing left for me to
do. I wish you to take one final message from me to your master. Tell
him this: It is my intention to procure help for Miss Dalton at once.
Tell him that her uncle, Sir Lionel Dudleigh, is now in England, and
that this very day I shall set out for Dudleigh Manor, I shall tell Sir
Lionel how his niece is situated, and bring him here. He will come with
his own claims and the officers of the law. Wiggins shall be arrested,
together with all who have aided and abetted him. If he refuses to admit
me now, I shall quit this place and go at once without delay. Go, now,
and make haste, for this matter is of too great importance to be decided
by you."

The porter seemed to think so too, for, touching his hat, he at once
withdrew. This time he was gone longer than before, and Miss Plympton
waited for his return with great impatience. At length he came back.

"Mr. Wiggins presents his respects, mum," said the man, "and says he is
not breakin' any law at all, and that if you choose to go for Sir
Lionel, he is willin' to have you do so. He says if you fetch Sir
Lionel here he will let both of you in. He says he'll be very happy
indeed to see Sir Lionel."

This singular way of taking what was meant to be a most formidable
threat took away Miss Plympton's last hope, and reduced her to a state
of dejection and bewilderment; for when, she sent that threatening
message, it was not because she had really any fixed design of carrying
it into execution, but rather because the name of Sir Lionel Dudleigh
seemed to her to be one which might overawe the mind of Wiggins. She
thought that by reminding Wiggins of the existence of this powerful
relative, and by threatening an instant appeal to him, she would be able
to terrify him into releasing Edith. But his cool answer destroyed this
hope. She felt puzzled at his assertion that he was not breaking any
law, when he himself must know well that such a thing as the
imprisonment of a free subject is a crime of the most serious character;
but she felt even more puzzled at his reference to Sir Lionel. Her own
connection and association with the aristocracy had never destroyed that
deep unswerving reverence for them with which she had set out in life;
and to find Wiggins treating the mention of Sir Lionel with such cool
indifference was to her an incomprehensible thing. But there was nothing
more for her to do at this place, and feeling the necessity of immediate
action, she at once drove back to the inn.

Arriving here, she hoped that her prompt departure might frighten
Wiggins, and lead to a change in his decision, and she concluded to
remain that evening and that night, so as to give him time for
repentance.

Nothing was left now but to devise some plan of action. First of all,
she made inquiries of the landlord about Wiggins. That personage could
tell her very little about him. According to him, Mr. Wiggins was a
lawyer from Liverpool, who had been intrusted with the management of the
Dalton estate for the past ten years. He was a very quiet man, devoted
to his business, and until latterly had never been at Dalton oftener or
longer than was absolutely necessary. Of late, however, he had been
living here for some months, and it was believed that he intended to
stay here the greater part of his time.

This was all that Miss Plympton was able to learn about Wiggins.

* * * * *




CHAPTER IX.


SIR LIONEL DUDLEIGH.

Although Miss Plympton had indulged the hope that Wiggins might relent,
the time passed without bringing any message from him, and every hour as
it passed made a more pressing necessity for her to decide on some plan.
The more she thought over the matter, the more she thought that her best
plan of action lay in that very threat which she had made to Wiggins.
True, it had been made as a mere threat, but on thinking it over it
seemed the best policy.

The only other course lay in action of her own. She might find some
lawyer and get him to interpose. But this involved a responsibility on
her part from which she shrank so long as there was any other who had a
better right to incur such responsibility. Now Sir Lionel was Edith's
uncle by marriage; and though there had been trouble between husband and
wife, she yet felt sure that one in Edith's position would excite the,
sympathy of every generous heart, and rouse Sir Lionel to action. One
thing might, indeed, prevent, and that was the disgrace that had fallen
upon the Dalton name. This might prevent Sir Lionel from taking any
part; but Miss Plympton was sanguine, and hoped that Sir Lionel's
opinion of the condemned man might be like her own, in which case he
would be willing, nay, eager, to save the daughter.

The first thing for her to do was to find out where Sir Lionel Dudleigh
lived. About this there was no difficulty. Burke's _Peerage and
Baronetage_ is a book which in most English homes lies beside the
Bible in the most honored place, and this inn, humble though it might
be, was not without a copy of this great Bible of society. This Miss
Plympton procured, and at once set herself to the study of its pages. It
was not without a feeling of self-abasement that she did this, for she
prided herself upon her extensive knowledge of the aristocracy, but here
she was deplorably ignorant. She comforted herself, however, by the
thought that her ignorance was the fault of Sir Lionel, who had lived a
somewhat quiet life, and had never thrust very much of his personality
before the world, and no one but Sir Bernard Burke could be expected to
find out his abode. That great authority, of course, gave her all the
information that she wanted, and she found that Dudleigh Manor was
situated not very far distant from Cheltenham. This would require a
detour which would involve time and trouble; but, under the
circumstances, she would have been willing to do far more, even though
Plympton Terrace should be without its tutelary genius in the mean time.

On the next morning Miss Plympton left Dalton on her way to Dudleigh
Manor. She was still full of anxiety about Edith, but the thought that
she was doing something, and the sanguine anticipations in which she
indulged with reference to Sir Lionel, did much to lessen her cares. In
due time she reached her destination, and after a drive from the station
at which she got out, of a mile or two, she found herself within Sir
Lionel's grounds. These were extensive and well kept, while the
manor-house itself was one of the noblest of its class.

After she had waited for some time in an elegant drawing-room a servant
came with Sir Lionel's apologies for not coming to see her, on account
of a severe attack of gout, and asking her to come up stairs to the
library. Miss Plympton followed the servant to that quarter, and soon
found herself in Sir Lionel's presence.

He was seated in an arm-chair, with his right foot wrapped in flannels
and resting upon a stool in front of him, in orthodox gout style. He was
a man apparently of about fifty years of age, in a state of excellent
preservation. His head was partially bald, his brow smooth, his cheeks
rounded and a little florid, with whiskers on each side of his face, and
smooth-shaven chin. There was a pleasant smile on his face, which
seemed natural to that smooth and rosy countenance; and this, together
with a general tendency to corpulency, which was rather becoming to the
man, and the gouty foot, all served to suggest high living and
self-indulgence.

"I really feel ashamed of myself, Miss--ah--Plympton," said Sir Lionel,
"for giving you so much trouble; but gout, you know, my dear madam, is
not to be trifled with; and I assure you if it had been any one else I
should have declined seeing them. But of course I could not refuse to
see you, and the only way I could have that pleasure was by begging you
to come here. The mountain could not come to Mohammed, and so Mohammed,
you know--eh? Ha, ha, ha!"

The baronet had a cheery voice, rich and mellow, and his laugh was
ringing and musical. His courtesy, his pleasant smile, his genial air,
and his hearty voice and laugh, all filled Miss Plympton with sincere
delight, and she felt that this man could do nothing else than take up
Edith's cause with the utmost ardor.

After a few apologies for troubling him, which Sir Lionel turned aside
by protesting that apologies were only due from himself to her, Miss
Plympton began to state the object of her visit.

"In the first place, Sir Lionel," said she, "I take it for granted that
you have heard of the death of Frederick Dalton, Esquire, in Van
Diemen's Land."

The smile on the baronet's face died out at this, and his eyes fixed
themselves upon Miss Plympton's face with quick and eager curiosity.
Then he turned his face aside. A table stood on his right, with some
wine and glasses within reach.

"Excuse me," said he; "I beg ten thousand pardons; but _won't_ you
take a glass of wine? No!" he continued, as Miss Plympton politely
declined; "really I think you had better." And then, pouring out a
glass, he sipped it, and looked at her once more. "Poor Dalton!" said
he, with a sigh. "Yes, of course, I saw it in the papers. A most
melancholy affair. Poor Dalton! Let me inform you, madam, that he was
more sinned against than sinning." Sir Lionel sighed.

"Oh, Sir Lionel," exclaimed Miss Plympton, earnestly, "how it rejoices
my heart to hear you say that! For my part, I never, never had one
single doubt of his perfect innocence."

"Nor had I," said Sir Lionel, firmly, pouring out another glass of wine.
"It was excessively unfortunate. Had I not myself been
in--in--ah--affliction at the time, I might have done something to help
him."

"Oh, Sir Lionel, I'm sure you would!"

"Yes, madam," said Sir Lionel; "but domestic circumstances to which I am
not at liberty to allude, of a painful character, put it out of my power
to--to--ah--to interpose. I was away when the arrest took place, and
when I returned it was too late."

"So I have understood," said Miss Plympton; "and it is because I have
felt so sure of your goodness of heart that I have come now on this
visit."

"I hope that you will give me the chance of showing you that your
confidence in me is well founded," said Sir Lionel, cordially.

"You may have heard, Sir Lionel," began Miss Plympton, "that about the
time of the trial Mrs. Dalton died. She died of a broken heart. It was
very, very sudden."

Sir Lionel sighed heavily.

"She thought enough of me to consider me her friend; and as she did not
think her own relatives had shown her sufficient sympathy, she intrusted
her child to me when dying. I have had that child ever since. She is
now eighteen, and of age."

"A girl! God bless my soul!" said Sir Lionel, thoughtfully. "And does
she know about this--this--melancholy business?"

"I deemed it my duty to tell her, Sir Lionel," said Miss Plympton,
gravely.

"I don't know about that. I don't--know--about--that," said Sir Lionel,
pursing up his lips and frowning. "Best wait a while; but too late now,
and the mischief's done. Well, and how did she take it?"

"Nobly, Sir Lionel. At first she was quite crushed, but afterward
rallied under it. But she could not remain with me any longer, and
insisted on going home--as she called it--to Dalton Hall."

"Dalton Hall! Yes--well? Poor girl! poor little girl!--an orphan.
Dalton Hall! Well?"

"And now I come to the real purpose of my visit," said Miss Plympton;
and thereupon she went on to give him a minute and detailed account of
their arrival at Dalton and the reception there, together with the
subsequent events.

To all this Sir Lionel listened without one word of any kind, and at
length Miss Plympton ended.

"Well, madam," said he, "it may surprise you that I have not made any
comments on your astonishing story. If it had been less serious I might
have done so. I might even have indulged in profane language--a habit,
madam, which, I am sorry to say, I have acquired from not frequenting
more the society of ladies. But this business, madam, is beyond comment,
and I can only say that I rejoice and feel grateful that you decided as
you did, and have come at once to me."

"Oh, I am so glad, and such a load is taken off my mind!" exclaimed Miss
Plympton, fervently.

"Why, madam, I am utterly astounded at this man's audacity," cried Sir
Lionel--"utterly astounded! To think that any man should ever venture
upon such a course! It's positively almost inconceivable. And so you
tell me that she is there now?"

"Yes."

"Under the lock and key, so to speak, of this fellow?"

"Yes."

"And she isn't allowed even to go to the gate?"

"No."

"The man's mad," cried Sir Lionel--"mad, raving mad. Did you see him?"

"No. He wouldn't consent to see me."

"Why, I tell you, he's a madman," said Sir Lionel. "He must be. No sane
man could think of such a thing. Why, this is England, and the
nineteenth century. The days of private imprisonment are over. He's mad!
The man's mad!"

"But what is to be done, Sir Lionel?" asked Miss Plympton, impatiently.

"Done!" cried Sir Lionel--"every thing! First, we must get Miss Dalton
out of that rascal's clutches; then we, must hand that fellow and his
confederates over to the law. And if it don't end in Botany Bay and
hard labor for life, then there's no law in the land. Why, who is he? A
pettifogger--a miserable low-born, low-bred, Liverpool pettifogger!"

"Do you know him?"

"Know him, madam! I know all about him--that is, as much as I want to
know."

"Do you know anything about the relations that formerly existed between
him and Mr. Frederick Dalton?"

"Relations!" said Sir Lionel, pouring out another glass of
wine--"relations, madam--that is--ah--to say--ah--business relations,
madam? Well, they were those of patron and client, I believe--nothing
more. I believe that this Wiggins was one to whom poor Dalton behaved
very kindly--made him what he is, in fact--and this is his reward! A
pettifogger, by Heaven!--a pettifogger! Seizing the Dalton estates, the
scoundrel, and then putting Miss Dalton under lock and key! Why, the
man's mad--mad! yes, a raving maniac! He is, by Heaven!"

"And now, Sir Lionel, when shall we be able to effect her release!"

"Leave it all to me. Leave it all to me, madam. This infernal gout of
mine ties me up, but I'll take measures this very day; I'll send off to
Dalton an agent that will free Miss Dalton and bring her here. Leave it
to me. If I don't go, I'll send--yes, by Heaven, I'll send my son. But
give yourself no trouble, madam. Miss Dalton is as good as free at this
moment, and Wiggins is as good as in jail."

Miss Plympton now asked Sir Lionel if he knew what Wiggins meant by his
answer to her threat, and she repeated the message. Sir Lionel listened
with compressed lips and a frowning brow. After Miss Plympton had told
it he sat for some minutes in silent thought.

"So that is what he said, is it!" exclaimed Sir Lionel at last. "Well,
madam, we shall see about that. But don't give yourself a moment's
uneasiness. I take the matter in hand from this moment. The insolence of
this fellow, Wiggins, is unparalleled, madam; but be assured all this
shall surely recoil on his own head with terrible effect."

Some further conversation followed to the same effect, and at length
Miss Plympton took her leave, full of hope and without a care. Sir
Lionel had hinted that she was not needed any more in the matter; and as
she felt a natural delicacy about obtruding her services, she decided to
go back to Plympton Terrace and wait.

Accordingly, Miss Plympton, on leaving Dudleigh Manor, went back to
Plympton Terrace.

* * * * *




CHAPTER X.


LEON

For some time after Miss Plympton's departure Sir Lionel remained buried
in thought. At length he rang the bell.

A servant appeared.

"Is Captain Dudleigh here yet?" asked Sir Lionel.

"Yes, Sir Lionel."

"Tell him that I want to see him."

The servant departed, and in a short time the door opened and a young
man entered. He was tall, muscular, well-formed, and with sufficient
resemblance to Sir Lionel to indicate that he was his son. For some time
Sir Lionel took no notice of him, and Captain Dudleigh, throwing himself
in a lounging attitude upon a chair, leaned his head back, and stared at
the ceiling. At length he grew tired of this, and sitting erect, he
looked at Sir Lionel, who was leaning forward, with his elbow on the arm
of his chair, supporting his head in his hand, and evidently quite
oblivious of the presence of any one.

"Did you wish to see me, Sir?" said Captain Dudleigh at length.

Sir Lionel started and raised his head.

"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "Is that you, Leon? I believe I must have been
asleep. Have you been waiting long? Why didn't you wake me? I sent for
you, didn't I? Oh yes. Let me see. It is a business of the greatest
importance, and I'm deuced glad that you are here, for any delay would
be bad for all concerned."

Sir Lionel paused for a few moments, and then began:

"You know about that--that melancholy story of--of poor Dalton."

Leon nodded.

"Did you hear that he is dead?"

"Well, some paragraphs have been going the rounds of the papers to that
effect, though why they should drag the poor devil from his seclusion,
even to announce his death, is somewhat strange to me."

"Well, he is dead, poor Dalton!" said Sir Lionel, "and--and so there's
an end of him and that melancholy business. By-the-way, I suppose you
haven't heard any particulars as to his death?"

"No," said Leon, "nothing beyond the bare fact. Besides, what does it
matter? When a man's dead, under such circumstances, too, no one cares
whether he died of fever or gunshot."

"True," said Sir Lionel, with a sigh. "It isn't likely that any one
would trouble himself to find out how poor Dalton died. Well, that is
the first thing that I had to mention. And now there is another thing.
You know, of course, that he left a daughter, who has been growing up
all these years, and is now of age. She has been living under the care
of a Miss Plympton, from whom I had the pleasure of a call this morning,
and who appears to be a remarkably sensible and right-minded person."

"A daughter?" said Leon. "Oh yes! Of course I remember. And of age!
Well, I never thought of that. Why, she must be heiress to the immense
Dalton property. Of age, and still at school! What's her name? I really
forget it, and it's odd too, for, after all, she's my own cousin, in
spite of the short-comings of her father and--and other people."

"Yes, Leon," said, Sir Lionel, "you're right. She is your own cousin. As
to her father, you must remember how I have always said that he was
innocent, and sinned against rather than sinning. Heaven forbid that we
should visit on this poor child the disgrace of her father, when he was
not guilty at all. I feel confident, Leon, that you will espouse her
cause as eagerly as I do; and since I am prevented from doing any thing
by this infernal gout, I look to you to represent me in this business,
and bring that infernal scoundrel to justice."

"Infernal scoundrel! What infernal scoundrel?"

"Why, this Wiggins."

"Wiggins?"

"Yes. The madman that is trying to shut up Edith, and keep her under
lock and key."

"Edith! Who's Edith? What, Dalton's daughter? Oh, is that her name? But
what do you mean? What madman? what lock and key?"

"You know Wiggins, don't you?" asked Sir Lionel.

"Which Wiggins? There are several that I know--Wiggins the sausage man,
Wiggins the rat-catcher, Wig--"

"I mean John Wiggins, of John Wiggins and Company, solicitors,
Liverpool. You know them perfectly well. I sent you there once."

"Yes," said Leon, slowly, "I remember."

"What sort of a man was this John Wiggins himself when you saw him?"

"Oh, an ordinary-looking person--grave, quiet, sensible, cool as a
clock, and very reticent. I told you all about him."

"Yes, but I didn't know but that you might remember something that would
throw light on his present actions. You went there to ask some questions
in my name with reference to poor Dalton, and the disposal of his
property."

"Yes, and got about as little satisfaction as one could get."

"He was not communicative."

"Not at all. Every answer was an evasion. What little I did get out of
him had to be dragged out. The most important questions he positively
refused to answer."

"Of course. I remember all that, for I was the one who wished to know,
and consequently his refusal to answer affected me most of all. I
wondered at the time, and thought that it might be some quiet plan of
his, but I really had no idea of the audacity of his plans."

"How is that?"

"Wait a moment. Did you see anything in this man that could excite the
suspicion that he was at all flighty or insane?"

"Insane! Certainly not. He was, on the contrary, the sanest person I
ever met with."

"Well, then, he must have become insane since. I've no doubt that he has
for years been planning to get control of the Dalton property; and now,
when he has become insane, he is still animated by this ruling passion,
and has gone to work to gratify it in this mad way."

"Mad way? What mad way? I don't understand."

"Well, I'll tell you all about it. I merely wished to get your unbiased
opinion of the man first;" and upon this Sir Lionel told him the whole
story which Miss Plympton had narrated to him. To all this Leon listened
with the deepest interest and the most profound astonishment,
interrupting his father by frequent questions and exclamations.

"What can be his design?" said Leon. "He must have some plan in his
head."

"Plan? a mad plan enough!" exclaimed Sir Lionel. "It is clearly nothing
else than an attempt to get control of the property by a _coup de
main_."

"Well, the opinion that I formed of Wiggins is that he is altogether too
shrewd and deep a man to undertake any thing without seeing his way
clear to success!"

"The man's mad!" cried Sir Lionel. "How can any sane man hope to succeed
in this? Why, no one can set up a private prison-house in that style.
If the law allowed that, I know of one person who could set up a
private jail, and keep it pretty well filled, too."

"An idea strikes me," said Leon, "which may explain this on other
grounds than madness, and which is quite in accordance with Wiggins's
character. He has been the agent of the estates for these ten years, and
though he was very close and uncommunicative about the extent of his
powers and the nature of his connection with Dalton, yet it is evident
that he has had Dalton's confidence to the highest degree; and I think
that before Dalton's unfortunate business, he must have had some
influence over him. Perhaps he has persuaded Dalton to make him the
guardian of his daughter."

"Well, what good would that do?" asked Sir Lionel.

"Do you know any thing about the law of guardianship?"

"Not much."

"Well, it seems to me, from what I have heard, that a guardian has a
great many very peculiar rights. He stands in a father's place. He can
choose such society for his ward as he likes, and can shut her up, just
as a father might. In this instance Wiggins may be standing on his
rights, and the knowledge of this may be the reason why he defied you so
insolently."

Sir Lionel looked annoyed, and was silent for a few moments.

"I don't believe it," said he; "I don't believe any thing of the kind. I
don't believe any law will allow a man to exercise such control over
another just because he or she is a minor. Besides, even if it were so,
Edith is of age, and this restraint can not be kept up. What good would
it do, then, for him to imprison her for three or four months? At the
end of that time she must escape from his control. Besides, even on the
ground that he is _in loco parentis_, you must remember that there
are limits even to a father's authority. I doubt whether even a father
would be allowed to imprison, a daughter without cause."

"But this imprisonment may only be a restriction within the grounds. The
law can not prevent that. Oh, the fact is, this guardianship law is a
very queer thing, and we shall find that Wiggins has as much right over
her as if he were her father. So we must go to work carefully; and my
idea is that it would be best to see him first of all, before we do any
thing, so as to see how it is."