Chapter 2

On a certain Saturday in June, year of our Lord 1880, between the hours
of sunrise and sunset, the town of W----, in a State which shall be
nameless, received two shocks.

Small affairs, concerning small people, could never have thrown
W---- into such a state of excitement, for she was a large and wealthy
town, and understood what was due to herself.

She possessed many factories, and sometimes a man came to his death
among the ponderous machinery. Not long since one "hand" had stabbed
another, fatally; and, still later, a factory girl had committed
suicide.

These things created a ripple, nothing more. It would ill become a town,
boasting its aristocracy and "style," to grow frenzied over the woes of
such common people. But W---- possessed a goodly number of wealthy
families, and some blue blood. These were worthy of consideration, and
upon these calamity had fallen. Let us read an extract or two from the
W---- _Argus_, a newspaper of much enterprise and exceeding veracity:

MONSTROUS DIAMOND ROBBERY--BOLD BURGLARY.

This day we are startled by the news of a robbery in our midst, the
like of which it has never been our fate to chronicle.

When the servants at Wardour Place arose this morning, they found
confusion reigning in the library, desks forced open, papers strewn
about, and furniture disarranged. One of the long windows had been
opened by forcing the shutters, and then cutting out a pane of
glass, after which the bolts were easily drawn.

Miss Wardour was at once aroused, and further examination disclosed
the fact that her dressing room had been invaded, and every box,
trunk and drawer searched. The beautiful little affair, which has
the appearance of a miniature combined desk and bookcase, but which
contains a small safe, that Miss Wardour believed burglar proof,
had been forced, and the jewels so widely known as the "Wardour
diamonds," stolen. Quite a large sum of money, and some papers of
value, were also taken.

Most of our readers are familiar with the history of the Wardour
diamonds, and know that they represented a fortune.

The burglary was effected without noise, not a sound disturbing
Miss Wardour, or any of her servants, some of whom are light
sleepers, and they have not a single clue by which to trace the
robbers.

Miss Wardour bears the loss with great calmness. Of course every
effort will be made to recover the jewels, and capture the thieves.
It is rumored that Mr. Jasper Lamotte, in behalf of Miss Wardour,
will visit the city at once and set the detectives at work.

This was shock number one for the public of W----.

Miss Constance Wardour, of Wardour Place, was a lady of distinction. She
possessed the oldest name, the bluest blood, the fairest face, and the
longest purse, to be found in W----; and, the _Argus_ had said truly,
the Wardour diamonds represented a fortune, and not a small one.

Emmeline Wardour, the great grandmother of Miss Constance, was a belle
and heiress. Her fondness for rare jewels amounted to a mania, and she
spent enormous sums in collecting rare gems. At her death she bequeathed
to her daughter a collection such as is owned by few ladies in private
life. She also bequeathed to her daughter her mania. This daughter,
after whom Constance was named, added to her mother's store of precious
stones, from time to time, and when, one fine day, a bank, in which she
had deposited some thousands of her dollars, failed, and she found
herself a loser, she brought her craze to a climax, by converting all
her money into diamonds, set and unset.

At her death, her granddaughter, Constance, inherited these treasures,
in addition to a handsome fortune from her mother; and, although the
original collection made by Emmeline Wardour contained a variety of rare
stones, opals, amethysts, pearls, cameos, etc., besides the many fine
diamonds, they all came to be classed under the head of the "Wardour
diamonds."

It is small wonder that W---- stood aghast at the thought of such a
robbery, and it is impossible to say when the talk, the wonderment, the
conjectures, suggestions, theories, and general indignation would have
ended, had not the second shock overborne the first. Once more let the
_Argus_ speak:

A STARTLING DISCOVERY.

Yesterday afternoon, while the town was filled with the excitement
caused by the Wardour robbery, Miss Sybil Lamotte, the beautiful
daughter of our wealthy and highly respected citizen, Jasper
Lamotte, Esq., eloped with John Burrill, who was, for a time,
foreman in one of her father's mills. Burrill is known to be a
divorced man, having a former wife and a child, living in W----;
and his elopement with one of the aristocracy has filled the town
with consternation.

Mr. Lamotte, the father of the young lady, had not been from home
two hours, in company with his wife, when his daughter fled. He was
_en route_ for the city, to procure the services of detectives, in
the hope of recovering the Wardour diamonds; both his sons were
absent from home as well. Mr. Lamotte has not yet returned, and is
still ignorant of his daughter's flight.

Thus abruptly and reluctantly ends the second _Argus_ bombshell, and
this same last bombshell had been a very different thing to handle. It
might have been made far more sensational, and the editor had sighed as
he penned the cautiously worded lines: "It was a monstrous
_mesalliance_, and a great deal could be said in disparagement of Mr.
John Burrill;" but Mr. Lamotte was absent; the brothers Lamotte were
absent; and until he was certain what steps they would take in this
matter, it were wise to err on the safe side. Sybil was an only
daughter. Parents are sometimes prone to forgive much; it might be best
to "let Mr. Burrill off easy."

Thus to himself reasoned the editor, and, having bridled his pen, much
against his will, he set free his tongue, and in the bosom of his family
discoursed very freely of Mr. John Burrill.

"My dear, it's unendurable," he announced to the little woman opposite,
with the nod of a Solomon. "It's perfectly _incomprehensible_, how such
a girl could do it. Why, he's a braggart and a bully. He drinks in our
public saloons, and handles a woman's name as he does his beer glass.
The factory men say that he has boasted openly that he meant to marry
Miss Lamotte, _or_ Miss Wardour, he couldn't decide which. By the by,
it's rather odd that those two young ladies should meet with such
dissimilar misfortunes on the same day."

Mrs. Editor, a small woman, who, from constantly hearing and absorbing
into the vacuum of her own mind, the words of wisdom falling from the
mouth of her husband, had acquired an expression of being always ready
and willing to be convinced, looked up from her teapot and propounded
the following:

"W-what do you s'pose she eloped with him for?"

"Maria, I believe I have told you frequently that there is no such word
as 's'pose.' I don't _suppose_ anything about it. It's enough to make
one believe in witchcraft. Miss Sybil Lamotte held her head above _us_;
above plenty more, who were the peers of Mr. John Burrill. Last year, as
everybody knows, she refused Robert Crofton, who is handsome, rich, and
upright in character. This Spring, they say, she jilted Raymond Vandyck,
and people who ought to know, say that they were engaged. Why, Ray
Vandyck comes of the best old Dutch stock, and his fortune is something
worth while. I wonder what young Vandyck will say to this, and how that
high-stepping old lady, his mother, will fancy having her son thrown
over for John Burrill. I wish I knew how Jasper Lamotte would take it."

So, in many a household, tongues wagged fast and furious; misfortune had
smitten the mighty ones of W----, and brought them within range of the
gossiping tongues of their social inferiors; and, while the village
oracles improve their opportunities, and old women hatch theories, the
like of which was never heard on earth, let us make the acquaintance of
some of the "mighty ones."