Blue Lights | Page 2

to the left.
He turned his back on his father's house, and caused the stones to spurt
from under his heels as he walked rapidly away.
If Miles Milton had thought of his mother at that time he might have
escaped many a day of bitter repentance, for she was as gentle as her
husband was harsh; but the angry youth either forgot her at the moment,

or, more probably, thrust the thought of her away.
Poor mother! if she had only known what a conflict between good and
evil was going on in the breast of her boy, how she would have
agonised in prayer for him! But she did not know. There was, however,
One who did know, who loved him better even than his mother, and
who watched and guarded him throughout all his chequered career.
It is not improbable that in spite of his resolves Miles would have
relented before night and returned home had not a very singular
incident intervened and closed the door behind him.
That day a notorious swindler had been tracked by a red-haired
detective to the manufacturing city, to which Miles first directed his
steps. The bills describing the swindler set forth that he was quite
young, tall, handsome, broad-shouldered, with black curling hair, and a
budding moustache; that he was dressed in grey tweeds, and had a
prepossessing manner. Now this chanced to be in some respects an
exact description of Miles Milton!
The budding moustache, to be sure, was barely discernible, still it was
sufficiently so for a detective to found on. His dress, too, was brown
tweed, not grey; but of course dresses can be changed; and as to his
manner, there could not be two opinions about that.
Now it chanced to be past one o'clock when Miles entered the town and
felt himself impelled by familiar sensations to pause in front of an
eating-house. It was a poor eating-house in a low district, but Miles was
not particular; still further, it was a temperance coffee-house, but Miles
cared nothing for strong drink. Strong health and spirits had served his
purpose admirably up to that date.
Inside the eating-house there sat several men of the artisan class, and a
few of the nondescript variety. Among the latter was the red-haired
detective. He was engaged with a solid beef-steak.
"Oho!" escaped softly from his lips, when his sharp eyes caught sight
of our hero. So softly did he utter the exclamation that it might have

been a mere remark of appreciation addressed to the steak, from which
he did not again raise his eyes for a considerable time.
The place was very full of people--so full that there seemed scarcely
room for another guest; but by some almost imperceptible motion the
red-haired man made a little space close to himself. The man next to
him, with a hook-nose, widened the space by similar action, and Miles,
perceiving that there was room, sat down.
"Bread and cheese," he said to the waiter.
"Bread an' cheese, sir? Yessir."
Miles was soon actively engaged in mechanically feeding, while his
mind was busy as to future plans.
Presently he became aware that the men on either side of him were
scanning his features and person with peculiar attention.
"Coldish weather," remarked the red-haired man, looking at him in a
friendly way.
"It is," replied Miles, civilly enough.
"Rather cold for bathin', ain't it, sir?" continued the detective carelessly,
picking his teeth with a quill.
"How did you know that I've been bathing?" demanded Miles in
surprise.
"I didn't know it."
"How did you guess it then?"
"Vell, it ain't difficult to guess that a young feller 'as bin 'avin' a swim
w'en you see the 'air of 'is 'ead hall vet, an' 'is pocket-'ankercher lookin'
as if it 'ad done dooty for a towel, not to mention 'is veskit 'avin' bin
putt on in a 'urry, so as the buttons ain't got into the right 'oles, you
see!"

Miles laughed, and resumed his bread and cheese.
"You are observant, I perceive," he said.
"Not wery partiklarly so," returned Redhair; "but I do obsarve that your
boots tell of country roads. Was it a long way hout of town as you was
bathin' this forenoon, now?"
There was a free and easy familiarity about the man's tone which Miles
resented, but, not wishing to run the risk of a disagreement in such
company, he answered quietly--"Yes, a considerable distance; it was in
an old quarry where I often bathe, close to my father's house."
"Ha! jest so, about 'alf-way to the willage of Ramplin', w'ere you slep'
last night, if report speaks true, an' w'ere you left the grey tweeds,
unless, p'r'aps, you sunk 'em in the old quarry."
"Why, what on earth do you mean?"