In Troy we
allow, by habit, some margin for enthusiasm.
A new placard was issued at once, and the reward increased to one
hundred and fifty pounds.
For ten days this handsome offer evoked no more response than the
previous one. For ten days yet all trace of the Major vanished at
the edge of Mr. Basket's fish-pond.
"It would almost seem," said Miss Sally Tregentil, discussing the
mystery for the hundredth time with Miss Pescod, "as if from that
fatal brink he had soared into the regions of the unknown and scaled,
as the expression goes, the empyrean."
"If that's the case," remarked Miss Pescod practically, "twice the
money won't bring him back."
On the 2nd of July the Chief Constable wrote to Dr. Hansombody that
he had discovered a clue. A doorkeeper of the Theatre Royal reported
(and was corroborated by the man in charge of the ticket-office) that
on the night of May 2nd, at about 10.30, a rough-looking fellow had
presented himself, dripping-wet, at the doors and demanded, in a
state of agitation, apparently the result of drink, to see Mr.
Basket, who occupied a reserved seat in the house; further, that
falling in with two sailors, who bought a ticket for him, the man had
mounted the gallery stairs in their company, and this was the last
seen of him by either of the deponents.
The Doctor posted to Plymouth, carrying with him the only extant
portrait of the Major--a miniature taken at the age of twenty-five;
called on Mr.
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