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diff --git a/12133-h/12133-h.htm b/12133-h/12133-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c3c7e98 --- /dev/null +++ b/12133-h/12133-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9167 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Lady of the Barge | Project Gutenberg</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +p.caption {font-weight: bold; + text-align: center; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12133 ***</div> + +<h1>The Lady of the Barge</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by W. W. JACOBS</h2> + +<h4>1911</h4> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">THE LADY OF THE BARGE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">THE MONKEY’S PAW</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">BILL’S PAPER CHASE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">THE WELL</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">CUPBOARD LOVE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">IN THE LIBRARY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">CAPTAIN ROGERS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">A TIGER’S SKIN</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">A MIXED PROPOSAL</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">AN ADULTERATION ACT</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">A GOLDEN VENTURE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">THREE AT TABLE</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Illustrations</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus00">He denied it again, hotly.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus01">“You villain!” she said, in a choking voice.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus02">“What’s that?” cried the old woman.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus03">Mrs. Driver fell back before the emerging form of Mr. Bodfish.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus04">Burleigh, with a feeling of nausea, drew back toward the door.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus05">Gunn placed a hand, which lacked two fingers, on his breast.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus06">“Don’t you think Major Brill is somewhat hasty in his conclusions?”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus07">He saw another tatterdemalion coming toward him.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus08">“You say you’re a doctor?”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus09">The second officer leaned forward.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus10">“You get younger than ever, Mrs. Pullen.”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus11">“We’ll leave you two young things alone.”</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>THE LADY OF THE BARGE</h2> + +<p> +The master of the barge <i>Arabella</i> sat in the stern of his craft with his +right arm leaning on the tiller. A desultory conversation with the mate of a +schooner, who was hanging over the side of his craft a few yards off, had come +to a conclusion owing to a difference of opinion on the subject of religion. +The skipper had argued so warmly that he almost fancied he must have inherited +the tenets of the Seventh-day Baptists from his mother while the mate had +surprised himself by the warmth of his advocacy of a form of Wesleyanism which +would have made the members of that sect open their eyes with horror. He had, +moreover, confirmed the skipper in the error of his ways by calling him a +bargee, the ranks of the Baptists receiving a defender if not a recruit from +that hour. +</p> + +<p> +With the influence of the religious argument still upon him, the skipper, as +the long summer’s day gave place to night, fell to wondering where his own +mate, who was also his brother-in-law, had got to. Lights which had been +struggling with the twilight now burnt bright and strong, and the skipper, +moving from the shadow to where a band of light fell across the deck, took out +a worn silver watch and saw that it was ten o’clock. +</p> + +<p> +Almost at the same moment a dark figure appeared on the jetty above and began +to descend the ladder, and a strongly built young man of twenty-two sprang +nimbly to the deck. +</p> + +<p> +“Ten o’clock, Ted,” said the skipper, slowly. “It’ll be eleven in an hour’s +time,” said the mate, calmly. +</p> + +<p> +“That’ll do,” said the skipper, in a somewhat loud voice, as he noticed that +his late adversary still occupied his favourite strained position, and a +fortuitous expression of his mother’s occurred to him: “Don’t talk to me; I’ve +been arguing with a son of Belial for the last half-hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bargee,” said the son of Belial, in a dispassionate voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t take no notice of him, Ted,” said the skipper, pityingly. +</p> + +<p> +“He wasn’t talking to me,” said Ted. “But never mind about him; I want to speak +to you in private.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fire away, my lad,” said the other, in a patronizing voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Speak up,” said the voice from the schooner, encouragingly. “I’m listening.” +</p> + +<p> +There was no reply from the bargee. The master led the way to the cabin, and +lighting a lamp, which appealed to more senses than one, took a seat on a +locker, and again requested the other to fire away. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you see, it’s this way,” began the mate, with a preliminary wriggle: +“there’s a certain young woman—” +</p> + +<p> +“A certain young what?” shouted the master of the <i>Arabella</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“Woman,” repeated the mate, snappishly; “you’ve heard of a woman afore, haven’t +you? Well, there’s a certain young woman I’m walking out with I—” +</p> + +<p> +“Walking out?” gasped the skipper. “Why, I never ’eard o’ such a thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“You would ha’ done if you’d been better looking, p’raps,” retorted the other. +“Well, I’ve offered this young woman to come for a trip with us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you have, ’ave you!” said the skipper, sharply. “And what do you think +Louisa will say to it?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s your look out,” said Louisa’s brother, cheerfully. “I’ll make her up a +bed for’ard, and we’ll all be as happy as you please.” +</p> + +<p> +He started suddenly. The mate of the schooner was indulging in a series of +whistles of the most amatory description. +</p> + +<p> +“There she is,” he said. “I told her to wait outside.” +</p> + +<p> +He ran upon deck, and his perturbed brother-in-law, following at his leisure, +was just in time to see him descending the ladder with a young woman and a +small handbag. +</p> + +<p> +“This is my brother-in-law, Cap’n Gibbs,” said Ted, introducing the new +arrival; “smartest man at a barge on the river.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl extended a neatly gloved hand, shook the skipper’s affably, and looked +wonderingly about her. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s very close to the water, Ted,” she said, dubiously. +</p> + +<p> +The skipper coughed. “We don’t take passengers as a rule,” he said, awkwardly; +“we ’ain’t got much convenience for them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind,” said the girl, kindly; “I sha’nt expect too much.” +</p> + +<p> +She turned away, and following the mate down to the cabin, went into ecstasies +over the space-saving contrivances she found there. The drawers fitted in the +skipper’s bunk were a source of particular interest, and the owner watched with +strong disapprobation through the skylight her efforts to make him an apple-pie +bed with the limited means at her disposal. He went down below at once as a wet +blanket. +</p> + +<p> +“I was just shaking your bed up a bit,” said Miss Harris, reddening. +</p> + +<p> +“I see you was,” said the skipper, briefly. +</p> + +<p> +He tried to pluck up courage to tell her that he couldn’t take her, but only +succeeded in giving vent to an inhospitable cough. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll get the supper,” said the mate, suddenly; “you sit down, old man, and +talk to Lucy.” +</p> + +<p> +In honour of the visitor he spread a small cloth, and then proceeded to produce +cold beef, pickles, and accessories in a manner which reminded Miss Harris of +white rabbits from a conjurer’s hat. Captain Gibbs, accepting the inevitable, +ate his supper in silence and left them to their glances. +</p> + +<p> +“We must make you up a bed, for’ard, Lucy,” said the mate, when they had +finished. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Harris started. “Where’s that?” she inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Other end o’ the boat,” replied the mate, gathering up some bedding under his +arm. “You might bring a lantern, John.” +</p> + +<p> +The skipper, who was feeling more sociable after a couple of glasses of beer, +complied, and accompanied the couple to the tiny forecastle. A smell compounded +of bilge, tar, paint, and other healthy disinfectants emerged as the scuttle +was pushed back. The skipper dangled the lantern down and almost smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t sleep there,” said the girl, with decision. “I shall die o’ fright.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll get used to it,” said Ted, encouragingly, as he helped her down; “it’s +quite dry and comfortable.” +</p> + +<p> +He put his arm round her waist and squeezed her hand, and aided by this moral +support, Miss Harris not only consented to remain, but found various advantages +in the forecastle over the cabin, which had escaped the notice of previous +voyagers. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll leave you the lantern,” said the mate, making it fast, “and we shall be +on deck most o’ the night. We get under way at two.” +</p> + +<p> +He quitted the forecastle, followed by the skipper, after a polite but futile +attempt to give him precedence, and made his way to the cabin for two or three +hours’ sleep. +</p> + +<p> +“There’ll be a row at the other end, Ted,” said the skipper, nervously, as he +got into his bunk. “Louisa’s sure to blame me for letting you keep company with +a gal like this. We was talking about you only the other day, and she said if +you was married five years from now, it ’ud be quite soon enough.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let Loo mind her own business,” said the mate, sharply; “she’s not going to +nag me. She’s not <i>my</i> wife, thank goodness!” +</p> + +<p> +He turned over and fell fast asleep, waking up fresh and bright three hours +later, to commence what he fondly thought would be the pleasantest voyage of +his life. +</p> + +<p> +The <i>Arabella</i> dropped slowly down with the tide, the wind being so light +that she was becalmed by every tall warehouse on the way. Off Greenwich, +however, the breeze freshened somewhat, and a little later Miss Harris, looking +somewhat pale as to complexion and untidy as to hair, came slowly on deck. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s the looking-glass?” she asked, as Ted hastened to greet her. “How does +my hair look?” +</p> + +<p> +“All wavy,” said the infatuated young man; “all little curls and squiggles. +Come down in the cabin; there’s a glass there.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Harris, with a light nod to the skipper as he sat at the tiller, followed +the mate below, and giving vent to a little cry of indignation as she saw +herself in the glass, waved the amorous Ted on deck, and started work on her +disarranged hair. +</p> + +<p> +At breakfast-time a little friction was caused by what the mate bitterly termed +the narrow-minded, old-fashioned ways of the skipper. He had arranged that the +skipper should steer while he and Miss Harris breakfasted, but the coffee was +no sooner on the table than the skipper called him, and relinquishing the helm +in his favour, went below to do the honours. The mate protested. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not proper,” said the skipper. “Me and ’er will ’ave our meals together, +and then you must have yours. She’s under my care.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Harris assented blithely, and talk and laughter greeted the ears of the +indignant mate as he steered. He went down at last to cold coffee and lukewarm +herrings, returning to the deck after a hurried meal to find the skipper +narrating some of his choicest experiences to an audience which hung on his +lightest word. +</p> + +<p> +The disregard they showed for his feelings was maddening, and for the first +time in his life he became a prey to jealousy in its worst form. It was quite +clear to him that the girl had become desperately enamoured of the skipper, and +he racked his brain in a wild effort to discover the reason. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus00"></a> +<img src="images/000.jpg" width="441" height="650" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">He denied it again, hotly.</p> +</div> + +<p> +With an idea of reminding his brother-in-law of his position, he alluded two or +three times in a casual fashion to his wife. The skipper hardly listened to +him, and patting Miss Harris’s cheek in a fatherly manner, regaled her with an +anecdote of the mate’s boyhood which the latter had spent a goodly portion of +his life in denying. He denied it again, hotly, and Miss Harris, conquering for +a time her laughter, reprimanded him severely for contradicting. +</p> + +<p> +By the time dinner was ready he was in a state of sullen apathy, and when the +meal was over and the couple came on deck again, so far forgot himself as to +compliment Miss Harris upon her appetite. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m ashamed of you, Ted,” said the skipper, with severity. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad you know what shame is,” retorted the mate. +</p> + +<p> +“If you can’t be’ave yourself, you’d better keep a bit for’ard till you get in +a better temper,” continued the skipper. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be pleased to,” said the smarting mate. “I wish the barge was longer.” +</p> + +<p> +“It couldn’t be too long for me,” said Miss Harris, tossing her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Be’aving like a schoolboy,” murmured the skipper. +</p> + +<p> +“I know how to behave <i>my</i>-self,” said the mate, as he disappeared below. +His head suddenly appeared again over the companion. “If some people don’t,” he +added, and disappeared again. +</p> + +<p> +He was pleased to notice as he ate his dinner that the giddy prattle above had +ceased, and with his back turned toward the couple when he appeared on deck +again, he lounged slowly forward until the skipper called him back again. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot was them words you said just now, Ted?” he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +The mate repeated them with gusto. +</p> + +<p> +“Very good,” said the skipper, sharply; “very good.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you ever speak to me again,” said Miss Harris, with a stately air, +“because I won’t answer you if you do.” +</p> + +<p> +The mate displayed more of his schoolboy nature. “Wait till you’re spoken to,” +he said, rudely. “This is your gratefulness, I suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“Gratefulness?” said Miss Harris, with her chin in the air. “What for?” +</p> + +<p> +“For bringing you for a trip,” replied the mate, sternly. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>You</i> bringing me for a trip!” said Miss Harris, scornfully. “Captain +Gibbs is the master here, I suppose. He is giving me the trip. You’re only the +mate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just so,” said the mate, with a grin at his brother-in-law, which made that +worthy shift uneasily. “I wonder what Loo will say when she sees you with a +lady aboard?” +</p> + +<p> +“She came to please you,” said Captain Gibbs, with haste. +</p> + +<p> +“Ho! she did, did she?” jeered the mate. “Prove it; only don’t look to me to +back you, that’s all.” +</p> + +<p> +The other eyed him in consternation, and his manner changed. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t play the fool, Ted,” he said, not unkindly; “you know what Loo is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m reckoning on that,” said the mate, deliberately. “I’m going for’ard; +don’t let me interrupt you two. So long.” +</p> + +<p> +He went slowly forward, and lighting his pipe, sprawled carelessly on the deck, +and renounced the entire sex forthwith. At teatime the skipper attempted to +reverse the procedure at the other meals; but as Miss Harris steadfastly +declined to sit at the same table as the mate, his good intentions came to +naught. +</p> + +<p> +He made an appeal to what he termed the mate’s better nature, after Miss Harris +had retired to the seclusion of her bed-chamber, but in vain. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s nothing to do with me,” declared the mate, majestically. “I wash my +hands of her. She’s a flirt. I’m like Louisa, I can’t bear flirts.” +</p> + +<p> +The skipper said no more, but his face was so worn that Miss Harris, when she +came on deck in the early morning and found the barge gliding gently between +the grassy banks of a river, attributed it to the difficulty of navigating so +large a craft on so small and winding a stream. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall be alongside in ’arf an hour,” said the skipper, eyeing her. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Harris expressed her gratification. +</p> + +<p> +“P’raps you wouldn’t mind going down the fo’c’sle and staying there till we’ve +made fast,” said the other. “I’d take it as a favour. My owners don’t like me +to carry passengers.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Harris, who understood perfectly, said, “Certainly,” and with a cold stare +at the mate, who was at no pains to conceal his amusement, went below at once, +thoughtfully closing the scuttle after her. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no call to make mischief, Ted,” said the skipper, somewhat anxiously, +as they swept round the last bend and came into view of Coalsham. +</p> + +<p> +The mate said nothing, but stood by to take in sail as they ran swiftly toward +the little quay. The pace slackened, and the <i>Arabella</i>, as though +conscious of the contraband in her forecastle, crept slowly to where a stout, +middle-aged woman, who bore a strong likeness to the mate, stood upon the quay. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s poor Loo,” said the mate, with a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +The skipper made no reply to this infernal insinuation. The barge ran alongside +the quay and made fast. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you’d be up,” said Mrs. Gibbs to her husband. “Now come along to +breakfast; Ted’ll follow on.” +</p> + +<p> +Captain Gibbs, dived down below for his coat, and slipping ashore, thankfully +prepared to move off with his wife. +</p> + +<p> +“Come on as soon as you can, Ted,” said the latter. “Why, what on earth is he +making that face for?” +</p> + +<p> +She turned in amazement as her brother, making a pretence of catching her +husband’s eye, screwed his face up into a note of interrogation and gave a +slight jerk with his thumb. +</p> + +<p> +“Come along,” said Captain Gibbs, taking her arm with much affection. +</p> + +<p> +“But what’s Ted looking like that for?” demanded his wife, as she easily +intercepted another choice facial expression of the mate’s. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s his fun,” replied her husband, walking on. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Fun?</i>” repeated Mrs. Gibbs, sharply. “What’s the matter, Ted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” replied the mate. +</p> + +<p> +“Touch o’ toothache,” said the skipper. “Come along, Loo; I can just do with +one o’ your breakfasts.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gibbs suffered herself to be led on, and had got at least five yards on +the way home, when she turned and looked back. The mate had still got the +toothache, and was at that moment in all the agonies of a phenomenal twinge. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s something wrong here,” said Mrs. Gibbs as she retraced her steps. +“Ted, what are you making that face for?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s my own face,” said the mate, evasively. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gibbs conceded the point, and added bitterly that it couldn’t be helped. +All the same she wanted to know what he meant by it. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask John,” said the vindictive mate. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gibbs asked. Her husband said he didn’t know, and added that Ted had been +like it before, but he had not told her for fear of frightening her. Then he +tried to induce her to go with him to the chemist’s to get something for it. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gibbs shook her head firmly, and boarding the barge, took a seat on the +hatch and proceeded to catechise her brother as to his symptoms. He denied that +there was anything the matter with him, while his eyes openly sought those of +Captain Gibbs as though asking for instruction. +</p> + +<p> +“You come home, Ted,” she said at length. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t,” said the mate. “I can’t leave the ship.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” demanded his sister. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask John,” said the mate again. +</p> + +<p> +At this Mrs. Gibbs’s temper, which had been rising, gave way altogether, and +she stamped fiercely upon the deck. A stamp of the foot has been for all time a +rough-and-ready means of signalling; the fore-scuttle was drawn back, and the +face of a young and pretty girl appeared framed in the opening. The mate raised +his eyebrows with a helpless gesture, and as for the unfortunate skipper, any +jury would have found him guilty without leaving the box. The wife of his +bosom, with a flaming visage, turned and regarded him. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus01"></a> +<img src="images/001.jpg" width="508" height="523" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“You villain!” she said, in a choking voice.</p> +</div> + +<p> +“You villain!” she said, in a choking voice. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Gibbs caught his breath and looked appealingly at the mate. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a little surprise for you, my dear,” he faltered, “it’s Ted’s young +lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing of the kind,” said the mate, sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not? How dare you say such a thing?” demanded Miss Harris, stepping on to +the deck. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you brought her aboard, Ted, you know you did,” pleaded the unhappy +skipper. +</p> + +<p> +The mate did not deny it, but his face was so full of grief and surprise that +the other’s heart sank within him. +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” said the mate at last; “have it your own way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold your tongue, Ted,” shouted Mrs. Gibbs; “you’re trying to shield him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you Ted brought her aboard, and they had a lover’s quarrel,” said her +unhappy spouse. “It’s nothing to do with me at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that’s why you told me Ted had got the toothache, and tried to get me off +to the chemist’s, I s’pose,” retorted his wife, with virulence. “Do you think +I’m a fool? How dare you ask a young woman on this barge? How dare you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t ask her,” said her husband. +</p> + +<p> +“I s’pose she came without being asked,” sneered his wife, turning her regards +to the passenger; “she looks the sort that might. You brazen-faced girl!” +</p> + +<p> +“Here, go easy, Loo,” interrupted the mate, flushing as he saw the girl’s pale +face. +</p> + +<p> +“Mind your own business,” said his sister, violently. +</p> + +<p> +“It is my business,” said the repentant mate. “I brought her aboard, and then +we quarrelled.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve no doubt,” said his sister, bitterly; “it’s very pretty, but it won’t +do.” +</p> + +<p> +“I swear it’s the truth,” said the mate. +</p> + +<p> +“Why did John keep it so quiet and hide her for, then?” demanded his sister. +</p> + +<p> +“I came down for the trip,” said Miss Harris; “that is all about it. There is +nothing to make a fuss about. How much is it, Captain Gibbs?” +</p> + +<p> +She produced a little purse from her pocket, but before the embarrassed skipper +could reply, his infuriated wife struck it out of her hand. The mate sprang +instinctively forward, but too late, and the purse fell with a splash into the +water. The girl gave a faint cry and clasped her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“How am I to get back?” she gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll see to that, Lucy,” said the mate. “I’m very sorry—I’ve been a brute.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>You?</i>” said the indignant girl. “I would sooner drown myself than be +beholden to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m very sorry,” repeated the mate, humbly. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s enough of this play-acting,” interposed Mrs. Gibbs. “Get off this +barge.” +</p> + +<p> +“You stay where you are,” said the mate, authoritatively. +</p> + +<p> +“Send that girl off this barge,” screamed Mrs. Gibbs to her husband. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Gibbs smiled in a silly fashion and scratched his head. “Where is she +to go?” he asked feebly. +</p> + +<p> +“Wh’at does it matter to you where she goes?” cried his wife, fiercely. “Send +her off.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl eyed her haughtily, and repulsing the mate as he strove to detain her, +stepped to the side. Then she paused as he suddenly threw off his coat, and +sitting down on the hatch, hastily removed his boots. The skipper, divining his +intentions, seized him by the arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be a fool, Ted,” he gasped; “you’ll get under the barge.” +</p> + +<p> +The mate shook him off, and went in with a splash which half drowned his +adviser. Miss Harris, clasping her hands, ran to the side and gazed fearfully +at the spot where he had disappeared, while his sister in a terrible voice +seized the opportunity to point out to her husband the probably fatal results +of his ill-doing. There was an anxious interval, and then the mate’s head +appeared above the water, and after a breathing-space disappeared again. The +skipper, watching uneasily, stood by with a lifebelt. +</p> + +<p> +“Come out, Ted,” screamed his sister as he came up for breath again. +</p> + +<p> +The mate disappeared once more, but coming up for the third time, hung on to +the side of the barge to recover a bit. A clothed man in the water savours of +disaster and looks alarming. Miss Harris began to cry. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll be drowned,” she whimpered. +</p> + +<p> +“Come out,” said Mrs. Gibbs, in a raspy voice. She knelt on the deck and twined +her fingers in his hair. The mate addressed her in terms rendered brotherly by +pain. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind about the purse,” sobbed Miss Harris; “it doesn’t matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you make it up if I come out, then,” demanded the diver. +</p> + +<p> +“No; I’ll never speak to you again as long as I live,” said the girl, +passionately. +</p> + +<p> +The mate disappeared again. This time he was out of sight longer than usual, +and when he came up merely tossed his arms weakly and went down again. There +was a scream from the women, and a mighty splash as the skipper went overboard +with a life-belt. The mate’s head, black and shining, showed for a moment; the +skipper grabbed him by the hair and towed him to the barge’s side, and in the +midst of a considerable hubbub both men were drawn from the water. +</p> + +<p> +The skipper shook himself like a dog, but the mate lay on the deck inert in a +puddle of water. Mrs. Gibbs frantically slapped his hands; and Miss Harris, +bending over him, rendered first aid by kissing him wildly. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Gibbs pushed her away. “He won’t come round while you’re a-kissing of +him,” he cried, roughly. +</p> + +<p> +To his indignant surprise the drowned man opened one eye and winked +acquiescence. The skipper dropped his arms by his side and stared at him +stupidly. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw his eyelid twitch,” cried Mrs. Gibbs, joyfully. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s all right,” said her indignant husband; “’e ain’t born to be drowned, ’e +ain’t. I’ve spoilt a good suit of clothes for nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +To his wife’s amazement, he actually walked away from the insensible man, and +with a boathook reached for his hat, which was floating by. Mrs. Gibbs, still +gazing in blank astonishment, caught a seraphic smile on the face of her +brother as Miss Harris continued her ministrations, and in a pardonable fit of +temper the overwrought woman gave him a box on the ear, which brought him round +at once. +</p> + +<p> +“Where am I?” he inquired, artlessly. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gibbs told him. She also told him her opinion of him, and without +plagiarizing her husband’s words, came to the same conclusion as to his +ultimate fate. +</p> + +<p> +“You come along home with me,” she said, turning in a friendly fashion to the +bewildered girl. “They deserve what they’ve got—both of ’em. I only hope that +they’ll both get such awful colds that they won’t find their voices for a +twelvemonth.” +</p> + +<p> +She took the girl by the arm and helped her ashore. They turned their heads +once in the direction of the barge, and saw the justly incensed skipper keeping +the mate’s explanations and apologies at bay with a boat-hook. Then they went +in to breakfast. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>THE MONKEY’S PAW</h2> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +Without, the night was cold and wet, but in the small parlour of Laburnam Villa +the blinds were drawn and the fire burned brightly. Father and son were at +chess, the former, who possessed ideas about the game involving radical +changes, putting his king into such sharp and unnecessary perils that it even +provoked comment from the white-haired old lady knitting placidly by the fire. +</p> + +<p> +“Hark at the wind,” said Mr. White, who, having seen a fatal mistake after it +was too late, was amiably desirous of preventing his son from seeing it. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m listening,” said the latter, grimly surveying the board as he stretched +out his hand. “Check.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should hardly think that he’d come to-night,” said his father, with his hand +poised over the board. +</p> + +<p> +“Mate,” replied the son. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the worst of living so far out,” bawled Mr. White, with sudden and +unlooked-for violence; “of all the beastly, slushy, out-of-the-way places to +live in, this is the worst. Pathway’s a bog, and the road’s a torrent. I don’t +know what people are thinking about. I suppose because only two houses in the +road are let, they think it doesn’t matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind, dear,” said his wife, soothingly; “perhaps you’ll win the next +one.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. White looked up sharply, just in time to intercept a knowing glance between +mother and son. The words died away on his lips, and he hid a guilty grin in +his thin grey beard. +</p> + +<p> +“There he is,” said Herbert White, as the gate banged to loudly and heavy +footsteps came toward the door. +</p> + +<p> +The old man rose with hospitable haste, and opening the door, was heard +condoling with the new arrival. The new arrival also condoled with himself, so +that Mrs. White said, “Tut, tut!” and coughed gently as her husband entered the +room, followed by a tall, burly man, beady of eye and rubicund of visage. +</p> + +<p> +“Sergeant-Major Morris,” he said, introducing him. +</p> + +<p> +The sergeant-major shook hands, and taking the proffered seat by the fire, +watched contentedly while his host got out whiskey and tumblers and stood a +small copper kettle on the fire. +</p> + +<p> +At the third glass his eyes got brighter, and he began to talk, the little +family circle regarding with eager interest this visitor from distant parts, as +he squared his broad shoulders in the chair and spoke of wild scenes and +doughty deeds; of wars and plagues and strange peoples. +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty-one years of it,” said Mr. White, nodding at his wife and son. “When he +went away he was a slip of a youth in the warehouse. Now look at him.” +</p> + +<p> +“He don’t look to have taken much harm,” said Mrs. White, politely. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to go to India myself,” said the old man, “just to look round a bit, +you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Better where you are,” said the sergeant-major, shaking his head. He put down +the empty glass, and sighing softly, shook it again. +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to see those old temples and fakirs and jugglers,” said the old +man. “What was that you started telling me the other day about a monkey’s paw +or something, Morris?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” said the soldier, hastily. “Leastways nothing worth hearing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monkey’s paw?” said Mrs. White, curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it’s just a bit of what you might call magic, perhaps,” said the +sergeant-major, offhandedly. +</p> + +<p> +His three listeners leaned forward eagerly. The visitor absent-mindedly put his +empty glass to his lips and then set it down again. His host filled it for him. +</p> + +<p> +“To look at,” said the sergeant-major, fumbling in his pocket, “it’s just an +ordinary little paw, dried to a mummy.” +</p> + +<p> +He took something out of his pocket and proffered it. Mrs. White drew back with +a grimace, but her son, taking it, examined it curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“And what is there special about it?” inquired Mr. White as he took it from his +son, and having examined it, placed it upon the table. +</p> + +<p> +“It had a spell put on it by an old fakir,” said the sergeant-major, “a very +holy man. He wanted to show that fate ruled people’s lives, and that those who +interfered with it did so to their sorrow. He put a spell on it so that three +separate men could each have three wishes from it.” +</p> + +<p> +His manner was so impressive that his hearers were conscious that their light +laughter jarred somewhat. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, why don’t you have three, sir?” said Herbert White, cleverly. +</p> + +<p> +The soldier regarded him in the way that middle age is wont to regard +presumptuous youth. “I have,” he said, quietly, and his blotchy face whitened. +</p> + +<p> +“And did you really have the three wishes granted?” asked Mrs. White. +</p> + +<p> +“I did,” said the sergeant-major, and his glass tapped against his strong +teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“And has anybody else wished?” persisted the old lady. +</p> + +<p> +“The first man had his three wishes. Yes,” was the reply; “I don’t know what +the first two were, but the third was for death. That’s how I got the paw.” +</p> + +<p> +His tones were so grave that a hush fell upon the group. +</p> + +<p> +“If you’ve had your three wishes, it’s no good to you now, then, Morris,” said +the old man at last. “What do you keep it for?” +</p> + +<p> +The soldier shook his head. “Fancy, I suppose,” he said, slowly. “I did have +some idea of selling it, but I don’t think I will. It has caused enough +mischief already. Besides, people won’t buy. They think it’s a fairy tale; some +of them, and those who do think anything of it want to try it first and pay me +afterward.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you could have another three wishes,” said the old man, eyeing him keenly, +“would you have them?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” said the other. “I don’t know.” +</p> + +<p> +He took the paw, and dangling it between his forefinger and thumb, suddenly +threw it upon the fire. White, with a slight cry, stooped down and snatched it +off. +</p> + +<p> +“Better let it burn,” said the soldier, solemnly. +</p> + +<p> +“If you don’t want it, Morris,” said the other, “give it to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t,” said his friend, doggedly. “I threw it on the fire. If you keep it, +don’t blame me for what happens. Pitch it on the fire again like a sensible +man.” +</p> + +<p> +The other shook his head and examined his new possession closely. “How do you +do it?” he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold it up in your right hand and wish aloud,” said the sergeant-major, “but I +warn you of the consequences.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sounds like the <i>Arabian Nights</i>,” said Mrs. White, as she rose and began +to set the supper. “Don’t you think you might wish for four pairs of hands for +me?” +</p> + +<p> +Her husband drew the talisman from pocket, and then all three burst into +laughter as the sergeant-major, with a look of alarm on his face, caught him by +the arm. +</p> + +<p> +“If you must wish,” he said, gruffly, “wish for something sensible.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. White dropped it back in his pocket, and placing chairs, motioned his +friend to the table. In the business of supper the talisman was partly +forgotten, and afterward the three sat listening in an enthralled fashion to a +second instalment of the soldier’s adventures in India. +</p> + +<p> +“If the tale about the monkey’s paw is not more truthful than those he has been +telling us,” said Herbert, as the door closed behind their guest, just in time +for him to catch the last train, “we sha’nt make much out of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you give him anything for it, father?” inquired Mrs. White, regarding her +husband closely. +</p> + +<p> +“A trifle,” said he, colouring slightly. “He didn’t want it, but I made him +take it. And he pressed me again to throw it away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Likely,” said Herbert, with pretended horror. “Why, we’re going to be rich, +and famous and happy. Wish to be an emperor, father, to begin with; then you +can’t be henpecked.” +</p> + +<p> +He darted round the table, pursued by the maligned Mrs. White armed with an +antimacassar. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. White took the paw from his pocket and eyed it dubiously. “I don’t know +what to wish for, and that’s a fact,” he said, slowly. “It seems to me I’ve got +all I want.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you only cleared the house, you’d be quite happy, wouldn’t you?” said +Herbert, with his hand on his shoulder. “Well, wish for two hundred pounds, +then; that’ll just do it.” +</p> + +<p> +His father, smiling shamefacedly at his own credulity, held up the talisman, as +his son, with a solemn face, somewhat marred by a wink at his mother, sat down +at the piano and struck a few impressive chords. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish for two hundred pounds,” said the old man distinctly. +</p> + +<p> +A fine crash from the piano greeted the words, interrupted by a shuddering cry +from the old man. His wife and son ran toward him. +</p> + +<p> +“It moved,” he cried, with a glance of disgust at the object as it lay on the +floor. +</p> + +<p> +“As I wished, it twisted in my hand like a snake.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t see the money,” said his son as he picked it up and placed it on +the table, “and I bet I never shall.” +</p> + +<p> +“It must have been your fancy, father,” said his wife, regarding him anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. “Never mind, though; there’s no harm done, but it gave me a +shock all the same.” +</p> + +<p> +They sat down by the fire again while the two men finished their pipes. +Outside, the wind was higher than ever, and the old man started nervously at +the sound of a door banging upstairs. A silence unusual and depressing settled +upon all three, which lasted until the old couple rose to retire for the night. +</p> + +<p> +“I expect you’ll find the cash tied up in a big bag in the middle of your bed,” +said Herbert, as he bade them good-night, “and something horrible squatting up +on top of the wardrobe watching you as you pocket your ill-gotten gains.” +</p> + +<p> +He sat alone in the darkness, gazing at the dying fire, and seeing faces in it. +The last face was so horrible and so simian that he gazed at it in amazement. +It got so vivid that, with a little uneasy laugh, he felt on the table for a +glass containing a little water to throw over it. His hand grasped the monkey’s +paw, and with a little shiver he wiped his hand on his coat and went up to bed. +</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +In the brightness of the wintry sun next morning as it streamed over the +breakfast table he laughed at his fears. There was an air of prosaic +wholesomeness about the room which it had lacked on the previous night, and the +dirty, shrivelled little paw was pitched on the sideboard with a carelessness +which betokened no great belief in its virtues. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose all old soldiers are the same,” said Mrs. White. “The idea of our +listening to such nonsense! How could wishes be granted in these days? And if +they could, how could two hundred pounds hurt you, father?” +</p> + +<p> +“Might drop on his head from the sky,” said the frivolous Herbert. +</p> + +<p> +“Morris said the things happened so naturally,” said his father, “that you +might if you so wished attribute it to coincidence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, don’t break into the money before I come back,” said Herbert as he rose +from the table. “I’m afraid it’ll turn you into a mean, avaricious man, and we +shall have to disown you.” +</p> + +<p> +His mother laughed, and following him to the door, watched him down the road; +and returning to the breakfast table, was very happy at the expense of her +husband’s credulity. All of which did not prevent her from scurrying to the +door at the postman’s knock, nor prevent her from referring somewhat shortly to +retired sergeant-majors of bibulous habits when she found that the post brought +a tailor’s bill. +</p> + +<p> +“Herbert will have some more of his funny remarks, I expect, when he comes +home,” she said, as they sat at dinner. +</p> + +<p> +“I dare say,” said Mr. White, pouring himself out some beer; “but for all that, +the thing moved in my hand; that I’ll swear to.” +</p> + +<p> +“You thought it did,” said the old lady soothingly. +</p> + +<p> +“I say it did,” replied the other. “There was no thought about it; I had just—- +What’s the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +His wife made no reply. She was watching the mysterious movements of a man +outside, who, peering in an undecided fashion at the house, appeared to be +trying to make up his mind to enter. In mental connection with the two hundred +pounds, she noticed that the stranger was well dressed, and wore a silk hat of +glossy newness. Three times he paused at the gate, and then walked on again. +The fourth time he stood with his hand upon it, and then with sudden resolution +flung it open and walked up the path. Mrs. White at the same moment placed her +hands behind her, and hurriedly unfastening the strings of her apron, put that +useful article of apparel beneath the cushion of her chair. +</p> + +<p> +She brought the stranger, who seemed ill at ease, into the room. He gazed at +her furtively, and listened in a preoccupied fashion as the old lady apologized +for the appearance of the room, and her husband’s coat, a garment which he +usually reserved for the garden. She then waited as patiently as her sex would +permit, for him to broach his business, but he was at first strangely silent. +</p> + +<p> +“I—was asked to call,” he said at last, and stooped and picked a piece of +cotton from his trousers. “I come from ‘Maw and Muggins.’” +</p> + +<p> +The old lady started. “Is anything the matter?” she asked, breathlessly. “Has +anything happened to Herbert? What is it? What is it?” +</p> + +<p> +Her husband interposed. “There, there, mother,” he said, hastily. “Sit down, +and don’t jump to conclusions. You’ve not brought bad news, I’m sure, sir;” and +he eyed the other wistfully. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry—” began the visitor. +</p> + +<p> +“Is he hurt?” demanded the mother, wildly. +</p> + +<p> +The visitor bowed in assent. “Badly hurt,” he said, quietly, “but he is not in +any pain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank God!” said the old woman, clasping her hands. “Thank God for that! +Thank—” +</p> + +<p> +She broke off suddenly as the sinister meaning of the assurance dawned upon her +and she saw the awful confirmation of her fears in the other’s averted face. +She caught her breath, and turning to her slower-witted husband, laid her +trembling old hand upon his. There was a long silence. +</p> + +<p> +“He was caught in the machinery,” said the visitor at length in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Caught in the machinery,” repeated Mr. White, in a dazed fashion, “yes.” +</p> + +<p> +He sat staring blankly out at the window, and taking his wife’s hand between +his own, pressed it as he had been wont to do in their old courting-days nearly +forty years before. +</p> + +<p> +“He was the only one left to us,” he said, turning gently to the visitor. “It +is hard.” +</p> + +<p> +The other coughed, and rising, walked slowly to the window. “The firm wished me +to convey their sincere sympathy with you in your great loss,” he said, without +looking round. “I beg that you will understand I am only their servant and +merely obeying orders.” +</p> + +<p> +There was no reply; the old woman’s face was white, her eyes staring, and her +breath inaudible; on the husband’s face was a look such as his friend the +sergeant might have carried into his first action. +</p> + +<p> +“I was to say that ‘Maw and Meggins’ disclaim all responsibility,” continued +the other. “They admit no liability at all, but in consideration of your son’s +services, they wish to present you with a certain sum as compensation.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. White dropped his wife’s hand, and rising to his feet, gazed with a look of +horror at his visitor. His dry lips shaped the words, “How much?” +</p> + +<p> +“Two hundred pounds,” was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +Unconscious of his wife’s shriek, the old man smiled faintly, put out his hands +like a sightless man, and dropped, a senseless heap, to the floor. +</p> + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p> +In the huge new cemetery, some two miles distant, the old people buried their +dead, and came back to a house steeped in shadow and silence. It was all over +so quickly that at first they could hardly realize it, and remained in a state +of expectation as though of something else to happen —something else which was +to lighten this load, too heavy for old hearts to bear. +</p> + +<p> +But the days passed, and expectation gave place to resignation—the hopeless +resignation of the old, sometimes miscalled, apathy. Sometimes they hardly +exchanged a word, for now they had nothing to talk about, and their days were +long to weariness. +</p> + +<p> +It was about a week after that the old man, waking suddenly in the night, +stretched out his hand and found himself alone. The room was in darkness, and +the sound of subdued weeping came from the window. He raised himself in bed and +listened. +</p> + +<p> +“Come back,” he said, tenderly. “You will be cold.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is colder for my son,” said the old woman, and wept afresh. +</p> + +<p> +The sound of her sobs died away on his ears. The bed was warm, and his eyes +heavy with sleep. He dozed fitfully, and then slept until a sudden wild cry +from his wife awoke him with a start. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>The paw!</i>” she cried wildly. “The monkey’s paw!” +</p> + +<p> +He started up in alarm. “Where? Where is it? What’s the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +She came stumbling across the room toward him. “I want it,” she said, quietly. +“You’ve not destroyed it?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s in the parlour, on the bracket,” he replied, marvelling. “Why?” +</p> + +<p> +She cried and laughed together, and bending over, kissed his cheek. +</p> + +<p> +“I only just thought of it,” she said, hysterically. “Why didn’t I think of it +before? Why didn’t <i>you</i> think of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Think of what?” he questioned. +</p> + +<p> +“The other two wishes,” she replied, rapidly. “We’ve only had one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was not that enough?” he demanded, fiercely. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she cried, triumphantly; “we’ll have one more. Go down and get it +quickly, and wish our boy alive again.” +</p> + +<p> +The man sat up in bed and flung the bedclothes from his quaking limbs. “Good +God, you are mad!” he cried, aghast. +</p> + +<p> +“Get it,” she panted; “get it quickly, and wish—Oh, my boy, my boy!” +</p> + +<p> +Her husband struck a match and lit the candle. “Get back to bed,” he said, +unsteadily. “You don’t know what you are saying.” +</p> + +<p> +“We had the first wish granted,” said the old woman, feverishly; “why not the +second?” +</p> + +<p> +“A coincidence,” stammered the old man. +</p> + +<p> +“Go and get it and wish,” cried his wife, quivering with excitement. +</p> + +<p> +The old man turned and regarded her, and his voice shook. “He has been dead ten +days, and besides he—I would not tell you else, but—I could only recognize him +by his clothing. If he was too terrible for you to see then, how now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Bring him back,” cried the old woman, and dragged him toward the door. “Do you +think I fear the child I have nursed?” +</p> + +<p> +He went down in the darkness, and felt his way to the parlour, and then to the +mantelpiece. The talisman was in its place, and a horrible fear that the +unspoken wish might bring his mutilated son before him ere he could escape from +the room seized upon him, and he caught his breath as he found that he had lost +the direction of the door. His brow cold with sweat, he felt his way round the +table, and groped along the wall until he found himself in the small passage +with the unwholesome thing in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +Even his wife’s face seemed changed as he entered the room. It was white and +expectant, and to his fears seemed to have an unnatural look upon it. He was +afraid of her. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Wish!</i>” she cried, in a strong voice. +</p> + +<p> +“It is foolish and wicked,” he faltered. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Wish!</i>” repeated his wife. +</p> + +<p> +He raised his hand. “I wish my son alive again.” +</p> + +<p> +The talisman fell to the floor, and he regarded it fearfully. Then he sank +trembling into a chair as the old woman, with burning eyes, walked to the +window and raised the blind. +</p> + +<p> +He sat until he was chilled with the cold, glancing occasionally at the figure +of the old woman peering through the window. The candle-end, which had burned +below the rim of the china candlestick, was throwing pulsating shadows on the +ceiling and walls, until, with a flicker larger than the rest, it expired. The +old man, with an unspeakable sense of relief at the failure of the talisman, +crept back to his bed, and a minute or two afterward the old woman came +silently and apathetically beside him. +</p> + +<p> +Neither spoke, but lay silently listening to the ticking of the clock. A stair +creaked, and a squeaky mouse scurried noisily through the wall. The darkness +was oppressive, and after lying for some time screwing up his courage, he took +the box of matches, and striking one, went downstairs for a candle. +</p> + +<p> +At the foot of the stairs the match went out, and he paused to strike another; +and at the same moment a knock, so quiet and stealthy as to be scarcely +audible, sounded on the front door. +</p> + +<p> +The matches fell from his hand and spilled in the passage. He stood motionless, +his breath suspended until the knock was repeated. Then he turned and fled +swiftly back to his room, and closed the door behind him. A third knock sounded +through the house. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus02"></a> +<img src="images/002.jpg" width="451" height="650" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“What’s that?” cried the old woman.</p> +</div> + +<p> +“<i>What’s that?</i>” cried the old woman, starting up. +</p> + +<p> +“A rat,” said the old man in shaking tones—“a rat. It passed me on the stairs.” +</p> + +<p> +His wife sat up in bed listening. A loud knock resounded through the house. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s Herbert!” she screamed. “It’s Herbert!” +</p> + +<p> +She ran to the door, but her husband was before her, and catching her by the +arm, held her tightly. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you going to do?” he whispered hoarsely. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s my boy; it’s Herbert!” she cried, struggling mechanically. “I forgot it +was two miles away. What are you holding me for? Let go. I must open the door.” +</p> + +<p> +“For God’s sake don’t let it in,” cried the old man, trembling. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re afraid of your own son,” she cried, struggling. “Let me go. I’m coming, +Herbert; I’m coming.” +</p> + +<p> +There was another knock, and another. The old woman with a sudden wrench broke +free and ran from the room. Her husband followed to the landing, and called +after her appealingly as she hurried downstairs. He heard the chain rattle back +and the bottom bolt drawn slowly and stiffly from the socket. Then the old +woman’s voice, strained and panting. +</p> + +<p> +“The bolt,” she cried, loudly. “Come down. I can’t reach it.” +</p> + +<p> +But her husband was on his hands and knees groping wildly on the floor in +search of the paw. If he could only find it before the thing outside got in. A +perfect fusillade of knocks reverberated through the house, and he heard the +scraping of a chair as his wife put it down in the passage against the door. He +heard the creaking of the bolt as it came slowly back, and at the same moment +he found the monkey’s paw, and frantically breathed his third and last wish. +</p> + +<p> +The knocking ceased suddenly, although the echoes of it were still in the +house. He heard the chair drawn back, and the door opened. A cold wind rushed +up the staircase, and a long loud wail of disappointment and misery from his +wife gave him courage to run down to her side, and then to the gate beyond. The +street lamp flickering opposite shone on a quiet and deserted road. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>BILL’S PAPER CHASE</h2> + +<p> +Sailormen ’ave their faults, said the night watchman, frankly. I’m not denying +of it. I used to ’ave myself when I was at sea, but being close with their +money is a fault as can seldom be brought ag’in ’em. +</p> + +<p> +I saved some money once—two golden sovereigns, owing to a ’ole in my pocket. +Before I got another ship I slept two nights on a doorstep and ’ad nothing to +eat, and I found them two sovereigns in the lining o’ my coat when I was over +two thousand miles away from the nearest pub. +</p> + +<p> +I on’y knew one miser all the years I was at sea. Thomas Geary ’is name was, +and we was shipmates aboard the barque <i>Grenada</i>, homeward bound from +Sydney to London. +</p> + +<p> +Thomas was a man that was getting into years; sixty, I think ’e was, and old +enough to know better. ’E’d been saving ’ard for over forty years, and as near +as we could make out ’e was worth a matter o’ six ’undered pounds. He used to +be fond o’ talking about it, and letting us know how much better off ’e was +than any of the rest of us. +</p> + +<p> +We was about a month out from Sydney when old Thomas took sick. Bill Hicks said +that it was owing to a ha’penny he couldn’t account for; but Walter Jones, +whose family was always ill, and thought ’e knew a lot about it, said that ’e +knew wot it was, but ’e couldn’t remember the name of it, and that when we got +to London and Thomas saw a doctor, we should see as ’ow ’e was right. +</p> + +<p> +Whatever it was the old man got worse and worse. The skipper came down and gave +’im some physic and looked at ’is tongue, and then ’e looked at our tongues to +see wot the difference was. Then ’e left the cook in charge of ’im and went +off. +</p> + +<p> +The next day Thomas was worse, and it was soon clear to everybody but ’im that +’e was slipping ’is cable. He wouldn’t believe it at first, though the cook +told ’im, Bill Hicks told him, and Walter Jones ’ad a grandfather that went off +in just the same way. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not going to die,” says Thomas “How can I die and leave all that money?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’ll be good for your relations, Thomas,” says Walter Jones. +</p> + +<p> +“I ain’t got any,” says the old man. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, your friends, then, Thomas,” says Walter, soft-like. +</p> + +<p> +“Ain’t got any,” says the old man ag’in. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you ’ave, Thomas,” says Walter, with a kind smile; “I could tell you one +you’ve got.” +</p> + +<p> +Thomas shut his eyes at ’im and began to talk pitiful about ’is money and the +’ard work ’e’d ’ad saving of it. And by-and-by ’e got worse, and didn’t +reckernise us, but thought we was a pack o’ greedy, drunken sailormen. He +thought Walter Jones was a shark, and told ’im so, and, try all ’e could, +Walter couldn’t persuade ’im different. +</p> + +<p> +He died the day arter. In the morning ’e was whimpering about ’is money ag’in, +and angry with Bill when ’e reminded ’im that ’e couldn’t take it with ’im, and +’e made Bill promise that ’e should be buried just as ’e was. Bill tucked him +up arter that, and when ’e felt a canvas belt tied round the old man’s waist ’e +began to see wot ’e was driving at. +</p> + +<p> +The weather was dirty that day and there was a bit o’ sea running, consequently +all ’ands was on deck, and a boy about sixteen wot used to ’elp the steward +down aft was lookin’ arter Thomas. Me and Bill just run down to give a look at +the old man in time. +</p> + +<p> +“I <i>am</i> going to take it with me, Bill,” says the old man. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right,” says Bill. +</p> + +<p> +“My mind’s—easy now,” says Thomas. “I gave it to Jimmy—to—to—throw overboard +for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Wot?</i>” says Bill, staring. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right, Bill,” says the boy. “He told me to. It was a little packet o’ +banknotes. He gave me tuppence for doing it.” +</p> + +<p> +Old Thomas seemed to be listening. ’Is eyes was open, and ’e looked artful at +Bill to think what a clever thing ’e’d done. +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody’s goin’-to spend-<i>my</i> money,” ’e says. “Nobody’s——” +</p> + +<p> +We drew back from ’is bunk and stood staring at ’im. Then Bill turned to the +boy. +</p> + +<p> +“Go and tell the skipper ’e’s gone,” ’e says, “and mind, for your own sake, +don’t tell the skipper or anybody else that you’ve thrown all that money +overboard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” says Jimmy. +</p> + +<p> +“Becos you’ll be locked up for it,” says Bill; “you’d no business to do it. +You’ve been and broke the law. It ought to ha’ been left to somebody.” +</p> + +<p> +Jimmy looked scared, and arter ’e was gone I turned to Bill, and I looks at ’im +and I says “What’s the little game, Bill?” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Game?</i>” said Bill, snorting at me. “I don’t want the pore boy to get +into trouble, do I? Pore little chap. You was young yourself once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I says; “but I’m a bit older now, Bill, and unless you tell me what your +little game is, I shall tell the skipper myself, and the chaps too. Pore old +Thomas told ’im to do it, so where’s the boy to blame?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think Jimmy <i>did?</i>” says Bill, screwing up his nose at me. “That +little varmint is walking about worth six ’undered quid. Now you keep your +mouth shut and I’ll make it worth your while.” +</p> + +<p> +Then I see Bill’s game. “All right, I’ll keep quiet for the sake of my half,” I +says, looking at ’im. +</p> + +<p> +I thought he’d ha’ choked, and the langwidge ’e see fit to use was a’most as +much as I could answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, then,” ’e says, at last, “halves it is. It ain’t robbery becos it +belongs to nobody, and it ain’t the boy’s becos ’e was told to throw it +overboard.” +</p> + +<p> +They buried pore old Thomas next morning, and arter it was all over Bill put +’is ’and on the boy’s shoulder as they walked for’ard and ’e says, “Poor old +Thomas ’as gone to look for ’is money,” he says; “wonder whether ’e’ll find it! +Was it a big bundle, Jimmy?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” says the boy, shaking ’is ’ead. “They was six ’undered pound notes and +two sovereigns, and I wrapped the sovereigns up in the notes to make ’em sink. +Fancy throwing money away like that, Bill: seems a sin, don’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +Bill didn’t answer ’im, and that afternoon the other chaps below being asleep +we searched ’is bunk through and through without any luck, and at last Bill sat +down and swore ’e must ha’ got it about ’im. +</p> + +<p> +We waited till night, and when everybody was snoring ’ard we went over to the +boy’s bunk and went all through ’is pockets and felt the linings, and then we +went back to our side and Bill said wot ’e thought about Jimmy in whispers. +</p> + +<p> +“He must ha’ got it tied round ’is waist next to ’is skin, like Thomas ’ad,” I +says. +</p> + +<p> +We stood there in the dark whispering, and then Bill couldn’t stand it any +longer, and ’e went over on tiptoe to the bunk ag’in. He was tremblin’ with +excitement and I wasn’t much better, when all of a sudden the cook sat up in +’is bunk with a dreadful laughing scream and called out that somebody was +ticklin’ ’im. +</p> + +<p> +I got into my bunk and Bill got into ’is, and we lay there listening while the +cook, who was a terrible ticklish man, leaned out of ’is bunk and said wot ’e’d +do if it ’appened ag’in. +</p> + +<p> +“Go to sleep,” says Walter Jones; “you’re dreamin’. Who d’you think would want +to tickle you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you,” says the cook, “somebody come over and tickled me with a ’and the +size of a leg o’ mutton. I feel creepy all over.” +</p> + +<p> +Bill gave it up for that night, but the next day ’e pretended to think Jimmy +was gettin’ fat an’ ’e caught ’old of ’im and prodded ’im all over. He thought +’e felt something round ’is waist, but ’e couldn’t be sure, and Jimmy made such +a noise that the other chaps interfered and told Bill to leave ’im alone. For a +whole week we tried to find that money, and couldn’t, and Bill said it was a +suspicious thing that Jimmy kept aft a good deal more than ’e used to, and ’e +got an idea that the boy might ha’ ’idden it somewhere there. At the end of +that time, ’owever, owing to our being short-’anded, Jimmy was sent for’ard to +work as ordinary seaman, and it began to be quite noticeable the way ’e avoided +Bill. +</p> + +<p> +At last one day we got ’im alone down the fo’c’sle, and Bill put ’is arm round +’im and got im on the locker and asked ’im straight out where the money was. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I chucked it overboard,” he says. “I told you so afore. What a memory +you’ve got, Bill!” +</p> + +<p> +Bill picked ’im up and laid ’im on the locker, and we searched ’im thoroughly. +We even took ’is boots off, and then we ’ad another look in ’is bunk while ’e +was putting ’em on ag’in. +</p> + +<p> +“If you’re innercent,” says Bill, “why don’t you call out?—eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because you told me not to say anything about it, Bill,” says the boy. “But I +will next time. Loud, I will.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look ’ere,” says Bill, “you tell us where it is, and the three of us’ll go +shares in it. That’ll be two ’undered pounds each, and we’ll tell you ’ow to +get yours changed without getting caught. We’re cleverer than you are, you +know.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know that, Bill,” says the boy; “but it’s no good me telling you lies. I +chucked it overboard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good, then,” says Bill, getting up. “I’m going to tell the skipper.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell ’im,” says Jimmy. “I don’t care.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you’ll be searched <i>arter you’ve stepped ashore</i>,” says Bill, “and +you won’t be allowed on the ship ag’in. You’ll lose it all by being greedy, +whereas if you go shares with us you’ll ’ave two ’undered pounds.” +</p> + +<p> +I could see as ’ow the boy ’adn’t thought o’ that, and try as ’e would ’e +couldn’t ’ide ’is feelin’s. He called Bill a red-nosed shark, and ’e called me +somethin’ I’ve forgotten now. +</p> + +<p> +“Think it over,” says Bill; “mind, you’ll be collared as soon as you’ve left +the gangway and searched by the police.” +</p> + +<p> +“And will they tickle the cook too, I wonder?” says Jimmy, savagely. +</p> + +<p> +“And if they find it you’ll go to prison,” says Bill, giving ’im a clump o’ the +side o’ the ’ead, “and you won’t like that, I can tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, ain’t it nice, Bill?” says Jimmy, holding ’is ear. +</p> + +<p> +Bill looked at ’im and then ’e steps to the ladder. “I’m not going to talk to +you any more, my lad,” ’e says. “I’m going to tell the skipper.” +</p> + +<p> +He went up slowly, and just as ’e reached the deck Jimmy started up and called +’im. Bill pretended not to ’ear, and the boy ran up on deck and follered ’im; +and arter a little while they both came down again together. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you wish to speak to me, my lad?” says Bill, ’olding ’is ’ead up. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” says the boy, fiddling with ’is fingers; “if you keep your ugly mouth +shut, we’ll go shares.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ho!” says Bill, “I thought you throwed it overboard!” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought so, too, Bill,” says Jimmy, very softly, “and when I came below +ag’in I found it in my trousers pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is it now?” says Bill. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind where it is,” says the boy; “you couldn’t get it if I was to tell +you. It’ll take me all my time to do it myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is it?” says Bill, ag’in. “I’m goin’ to take care of it. I won’t trust +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I can’t trust you,” says Jimmy. +</p> + +<p> +“If you don’t tell me where it is this minute,” says Bill, moving to the ladder +ag’in, “I’m off to tell the skipper. I want it in my ’ands, or at any rate my +share of it. Why not share it out now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I ’aven’t got it,” says Jimmy, stamping ’is foot, “that’s why, and +it’s all your silly fault. Arter you came pawing through my pockets when you +thought I was asleep I got frightened and ’id it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” says Bill. +</p> + +<p> +“In the second mate’s mattress,” says Jimmy. “I was tidying up down aft and I +found a ’ole in the underneath side of ’is mattress and I shoved it in there, +and poked it in with a bit o’ stick.” +</p> + +<p> +“And ’ow are you going to get it?” says Bill, scratching ’is ’ead. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s wot I don’t know, seeing that I’m not allowed aft now,” says Jimmy. +“One of us’ll ’ave to make a dash for it when we get to London. And mind if +there’s any ’ankypanky on your part, Bill, I’ll give the show away myself.” +</p> + +<p> +The cook came down just then and we ’ad to leave off talking, and I could see +that Bill was so pleased at finding that the money ’adn’t been thrown overboard +that ’e was losing sight o’ the difficulty o’ getting at it. In a day or two, +’owever, ’e see it as plain as me and Jimmy did, and, as time went by, he got +desprit, and frightened us both by ’anging about aft every chance ’e got. +</p> + +<p> +The companion-way faced the wheel, and there was about as much chance o’ +getting down there without being seen as there would be o’ taking a man’s false +teeth out of ’is mouth without ’is knowing it. Jimmy went down one day while +Bill was at the wheel to look for ’is knife, wot ’e thought ’e’d left down +there, and ’ed ’ardly got down afore Bill saw ’im come up ag’in, ’olding on to +the top of a mop which the steward was using. +</p> + +<p> +We couldn’t figure it out nohow, and to think o’ the second mate, a little man +with a large fam’ly, who never ’ad a penny in ’is pocket, sleeping every night +on a six ’undered pound mattress, sent us pretty near crazy. We used to talk it +over whenever we got a chance, and Bill and Jimmy could scarcely be civil to +each other. The boy said it was Bill’s fault, and ’e said it was the boy’s. +</p> + +<p> +“The on’y thing I can see,” says the boy, one day, “is for Bill to ’ave a touch +of sunstroke as ’e’s leaving the wheel one day, tumble ’ead-first down the +companion-way, and injure ’isself so severely that ’e can’t be moved. Then +they’ll put ’im in a cabin down aft, and p’raps I’ll ’ave to go and nurse ’im. +Anyway, <i>he’ll</i> be down there.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a very good idea, Bill,” I says. +</p> + +<p> +“Ho,” says Bill, looking at me as if ’e would eat me. “Why don’t you do it, +then?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d sooner you did it, Bill,” says the boy; “still, I don’t mind which it is. +Why not toss up for it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Get away,” says Bill. “Get away afore I do something you won’t like, you +blood-thirsty little murderer.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got a plan myself,” he says, in a low voice, after the boy ’ad ’opped +off, “and if I can’t think of nothing better I’ll try it, and mind, not a word +to the boy.” +</p> + +<p> +He didn’t think o’ nothing better, and one night just as we was making the +Channel ’e tried ’is plan. He was in the second mate’s watch, and by-and-by ’e +leans over the wheel and says to ’im in a low voice, “This is my last v’y’ge, +sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” says the second mate, who was a man as didn’t mind talking to a man +before the mast. “How’s that?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got a berth ashore, sir,” says Bill, “and I wanted to ask a favour, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +The second mate growled and walked off a pace or two. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve never been so ’appy as I’ve been on this ship,” says Bill; “none of us +’ave. We was saying so the other night, and everybody agreed as it was owing to +you, sir, and your kindness to all of us.” +</p> + +<p> +The second mate coughed, but Bill could see as ’e was a bit pleased. +</p> + +<p> +“The feeling came over me,” says Bill, “that when I leave the sea for good I’d +like to ’ave something o’ yours to remember you by, sir. And it seemed to me +that if I ’ad your—mattress I should think of you ev’ry night o’ my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“My <i>wot?</i>” says the second mate, staring at ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“Your mattress, sir,” says Bill. “If I might make so bold as to offer a pound +for it, sir. I want something wot’s been used by you, and I’ve got a fancy for +that as a keepsake.” +</p> + +<p> +The second mate shook ’is ’ead. “I’m sorry, Bill,” ’e says, gently, “but I +couldn’t let it go at that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d sooner pay thirty shillin’s than not ’ave it, sir,” says Bill, ’umbly. +</p> + +<p> +“I gave a lot of money for that mattress,” says the mate, ag’in. “I forgit ’ow +much, but a lot. You don’t know ’ow valuable that mattress is.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it’s a good one, sir, else you wouldn’t ’ave it,” says Bill. “Would a +couple o’ pounds buy it, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +The second mate hum’d and ha’d, but Bill was afeard to go any ’igher. So far as +’e could make out from Jimmy, the mattress was worth about eighteen pence—to +anybody who wasn’t pertiklar. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve slept on that mattress for years,” says the second mate, looking at ’im +from the corner of ’is eye. “I don’t believe I could sleep on another. Still, +to oblige you, Bill, you shall ’ave it at that if you don’t want it till we go +ashore?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thankee, sir,” says Bill, ’ardly able to keep from dancing, “and I’ll ’and +over the two pounds when we’re paid off. I shall keep it all my life, sir, in +memory of you and your kindness.” +</p> + +<p> +“And mind you keep quiet about it,” says the second mate, who didn’t want the +skipper to know wot ’e’d been doing, “because I don’t want to be bothered by +other men wanting to buy things as keepsakes.” +</p> + +<p> +Bill promised ’im like a shot, and when ’e told me about it ’e was nearly +crying with joy. +</p> + +<p> +“And mind,” ’e says, “I’ve bought that mattress, bought it as it stands, and +it’s got nothing to do with Jimmy. We’ll each pay a pound and halve wot’s in +it.” +</p> + +<p> +He persuaded me at last, but that boy watched us like a cat watching a couple +of canaries, and I could see we should ’ave all we could do to deceive +’<i>im</i>. He seemed more suspicious o’ Bill than me, and ’e kep’ worrying us +nearly every day to know what we were going to do. +</p> + +<p> +We beat about in the channel with a strong ’ead-wind for four days, and then a +tug picked us up and towed us to London. +</p> + +<p> +The excitement of that last little bit was ’orrible. Fust of all we ’ad got to +get the mattress, and then in some way we ’ad got to get rid o’ Jimmy. Bill’s +idea was for me to take ’im ashore with me and tell ’im that Bill would join us +arterwards, and then lose ’im; but I said that till I’d got my share I couldn’t +bear to lose sight o’ Bill’s honest face for ’alf a second. +</p> + +<p> +And, besides, Jimmy wouldn’t ’ave gone. +</p> + +<p> +All the way up the river ’e stuck to Bill, and kept asking ’im wot we were to +do. ’E was ’alf crying, and so excited that Bill was afraid the other chaps +would notice it. +</p> + +<p> +We got to our berth in the East India Docks at last, and arter we were made +fast we went below to ’ave a wash and change into our shoregoing togs. Jimmy +watched us all the time, and then ’e comes up to Bill biting ’is nails, and +says: +</p> + +<p> +“How’s it to be done, Bill?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hang about arter the rest ’ave gone ashore, and trust to luck,” says Bill, +looking at me. “We’ll see ’ow the land lays when we draw our advance.” +</p> + +<p> +We went down aft to draw ten shillings each to go ashore with. Bill and me got +ours fust, and then the second mate who ’ad tipped ’im the wink followed us out +unconcerned-like and ’anded Bill the mattress rolled up in a sack. +</p> + +<p> +“’Ere you are, Bill,” ’e says. +</p> + +<p> +“Much obliged, sir,” says Bill, and ’is ’ands trembled so as ’e could ’ardly +’old it, and ’e made to go off afore Jimmy come on deck. +</p> + +<p> +Then that fool of a mate kept us there while ’e made a little speech. Twice +Bill made to go off, but ’e put ’is ’and on ’is arm and kept ’im there while ’e +told ’im ’ow he’d always tried to be liked by the men, and ’ad generally +succeeded, and in the middle of it up popped Master Jimmy. +</p> + +<p> +He gave a start as he saw the bag, and ’is eyes opened wide, and then as we +walked forward ’e put ’is arm through Bill’s and called ’im all the names ’e +could think of. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d steal the milk out of a cat’s saucer,” ’e says; “but mind, you don’t +leave this ship till I’ve got my share.” +</p> + +<p> +“I meant it for a pleasant surprise for you, Jimmy,” says Bill, trying to +smile. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t like your surprises, Bill, so I don’t deceive you,” says the boy. +“Where are you going to open it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was thinking of opening it in my bunk,” says Bill. “The perlice might want +to examine it if we took it through the dock. Come on, Jimmy, old man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; all right,” says the boy, nodding ’is ’ead at ’im. “I’ll stay up ’ere. +You might forget yourself, Bill, if I trusted myself down there with you alone. +You can throw my share up to me, and then you’ll leave the ship afore I do. +See?” +</p> + +<p> +“Go to blazes,” says Bill; and then, seeing that the last chance ’ad gone, we +went below, and ’e chucked the bundle in ’is bunk. There was only one chap down +there, and arter spending best part o’ ten minutes doing ’is hair ’e nodded to +us and went off. +</p> + +<p> +Half a minute later Bill cut open the mattress and began to search through the +stuffing, while I struck matches and watched ’im. It wasn’t a big mattress and +there wasn’t much stuffing, but we couldn’t seem to see that money. Bill went +all over it ag’in and ag’in, and then ’e stood up and looked at me and caught +’is breath painful. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think the mate found it?” ’e says, in a ’usky voice. +</p> + +<p> +We went through it ag’in, and then Bill went half-way up the fo’c’s’le ladder +and called softly for Jimmy. He called three times, and then, with a sinking +sensation in ’is stummick, ’e went up on deck and I follered ’im. The boy was +nowhere to be seen. All we saw was the ship’s cat ’aving a wash and brush-up +afore going ashore, and the skipper standing aft talking to the owner. +</p> + +<p> +We never saw that boy ag’in. He never turned up for ’is box, and ’e didn’t show +up to draw ’is pay. Everybody else was there, of course, and arter I’d got mine +and come outside I see pore Bill with ’is back up ag’in a wall, staring ’ard at +the second mate, who was looking at ’im with a kind smile, and asking ’im ’ow +he’d slept. The last thing I saw of Bill, the pore chap ’ad got ’is ’ands in +’is trousers pockets, and was trying ’is hardest to smile back. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>THE WELL</h2> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +Two men stood in the billiard-room of an old country house, talking. Play, +which had been of a half-hearted nature, was over, and they sat at the open +window, looking out over the park stretching away beneath them, conversing +idly. +</p> + +<p> +“Your time’s nearly up, Jem,” said one at length, “this time six weeks you’ll +be yawning out the honeymoon and cursing the man—woman I mean— who invented +them.” +</p> + +<p> +Jem Benson stretched his long limbs in the chair and grunted in dissent. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve never understood it,” continued Wilfred Carr, yawning. “It’s not in my +line at all; I never had enough money for my own wants, let alone for two. +Perhaps if I were as rich as you or Crœsus I might regard it differently.” +</p> + +<p> +There was just sufficient meaning in the latter part of the remark for his +cousin to forbear to reply to it. He continued to gaze out of the window and to +smoke slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“Not being as rich as Crœsus—or you,” resumed Carr, regarding him from beneath +lowered lids, “I paddle my own canoe down the stream of Time, and, tying it to +my friends’ door-posts, go in to eat their dinners.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite Venetian,” said Jem Benson, still looking out of the window. “It’s not a +bad thing for you, Wilfred, that you have the doorposts and dinners—and +friends.” +</p> + +<p> +Carr grunted in his turn. “Seriously though, Jem,” he said, slowly, “you’re a +lucky fellow, a very lucky fellow. If there is a better girl above ground than +Olive, I should like to see her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the other, quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s such an exceptional girl,” continued Carr, staring out of the window. +“She’s so good and gentle. She thinks you are a bundle of all the virtues.” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed frankly and joyously, but the other man did not join him. “Strong +sense—of right and wrong, though,” continued Carr, musingly. “Do you know, I +believe that if she found out that you were not—-” +</p> + +<p> +“Not what?” demanded Benson, turning upon him fiercely, “Not what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Everything that you are,” returned his cousin, with a grin that belied his +words, “I believe she’d drop you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Talk about something else,” said Benson, slowly; “your pleasantries are not +always in the best taste.” +</p> + +<p> +Wilfred Carr rose and taking a cue from the rack, bent over the board and +practiced one or two favourite shots. “The only other subject I can talk about +just at present is my own financial affairs,” he said slowly, as he walked +round the table. +</p> + +<p> +“Talk about something else,” said Benson again, bluntly. +</p> + +<p> +“And the two things are connected,” said Carr, and dropping his cue he half sat +on the table and eyed his cousin. +</p> + +<p> +There was a long silence. Benson pitched the end of his cigar out of the +window, and leaning back closed his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you follow me?” inquired Carr at length. +</p> + +<p> +Benson opened his eyes and nodded at the window. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you want to follow my cigar?” he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“I should prefer to depart by the usual way for your sake,” returned the other, +unabashed. “If I left by the window all sorts of questions would be asked, and +you know what a talkative chap I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“So long as you don’t talk about my affairs,” returned the other, restraining +himself by an obvious effort, “you can talk yourself hoarse.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m in a mess,” said Carr, slowly, “a devil of a mess. If I don’t raise +fifteen hundred by this day fortnight, I may be getting my board and lodging +free.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would that be any change?” questioned Benson. +</p> + +<p> +“The quality would,” retorted the other. “The address also would not be good. +Seriously, Jem, will you let me have the fifteen hundred?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said the other, simply. +</p> + +<p> +Carr went white. “It’s to save me from ruin,” he said, thickly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve helped you till I’m tired,” said Benson, turning and regarding him, “and +it is all to no good. If you’ve got into a mess, get out of it. You should not +be so fond of giving autographs away.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s foolish, I admit,” said Carr, deliberately. “I won’t do so any more. By +the way, I’ve got some to sell. You needn’t sneer. They’re not my own.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whose are they?” inquired the other. +</p> + +<p> +“Yours.” +</p> + +<p> +Benson got up from his chair and crossed over to him. “What is this?” he asked, +quietly. “Blackmail?” +</p> + +<p> +“Call it what you like,” said Carr. “I’ve got some letters for sale, price +fifteen hundred. And I know a man who would buy them at that price for the mere +chance of getting Olive from you. I’ll give you first offer.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you have got any letters bearing my signature, you will be good enough to +give them to me,” said Benson, very slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“They’re mine,” said Carr, lightly; “given to me by the lady you wrote them to. +I must say that they are not all in the best possible taste.” +</p> + +<p> +His cousin reached forward suddenly, and catching him by the collar of his coat +pinned him down on the table. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me those letters,” he breathed, sticking his face close to Carr’s. +</p> + +<p> +“They’re not here,” said Carr, struggling. “I’m not a fool. Let me go, or I’ll +raise the price.” +</p> + +<p> +The other man raised him from the table in his powerful hands, apparently with +the intention of dashing his head against it. Then suddenly his hold relaxed as +an astonished-looking maid-servant entered the room with letters. Carr sat up +hastily. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s how it was done,” said Benson, for the girl’s benefit as he took the +letters. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t wonder at the other man making him pay for it, then,” said Carr, +blandly. +</p> + +<p> +“You will give me those letters?” said Benson, suggestively, as the girl left +the room. +</p> + +<p> +“At the price I mentioned, yes,” said Carr; “but so sure as I am a living man, +if you lay your clumsy hands on me again, I’ll double it. Now, I’ll leave you +for a time while you think it over.” +</p> + +<p> +He took a cigar from the box and lighting it carefully quitted the room. His +cousin waited until the door had closed behind him, and then turning to the +window sat there in a fit of fury as silent as it was terrible. +</p> + +<p> +The air was fresh and sweet from the park, heavy with the scent of new-mown +grass. The fragrance of a cigar was now added to it, and glancing out he saw +his cousin pacing slowly by. He rose and went to the door, and then, apparently +altering his mind, he returned to the window and watched the figure of his +cousin as it moved slowly away into the moonlight. Then he rose again, and, for +a long time, the room was empty. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +It was empty when Mrs. Benson came in some time later to say good-night to her +son on her way to bed. She walked slowly round the table, and pausing at the +window gazed from it in idle thought, until she saw the figure of her son +advancing with rapid strides toward the house. He looked up at the window. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-night,” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-night,” said Benson, in a deep voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Wilfred?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he has gone,” said Benson. +</p> + +<p> +“Gone?” +</p> + +<p> +“We had a few words; he was wanting money again, and I gave him a piece of my +mind. I don’t think we shall see him again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor Wilfred!” sighed Mrs. Benson. “He is always in trouble of some sort. I +hope that you were not too hard upon him.” +</p> + +<p> +“No more than he deserved,” said her son, sternly. “Good night.” +</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +The well, which had long ago fallen into disuse, was almost hidden by the thick +tangle of undergrowth which ran riot at that corner of the old park. It was +partly covered by the shrunken half of a lid, above which a rusty windlass +creaked in company with the music of the pines when the wind blew strongly. The +full light of the sun never reached it, and the ground surrounding it was moist +and green when other parts of the park were gaping with the heat. +</p> + +<p> +Two people walking slowly round the park in the fragrant stillness of a summer +evening strayed in the direction of the well. +</p> + +<p> +“No use going through this wilderness, Olive,” said Benson, pausing on the +outskirts of the pines and eyeing with some disfavour the gloom beyond. +</p> + +<p> +“Best part of the park,” said the girl briskly; “you know it’s my favourite +spot.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know you’re very fond of sitting on the coping,” said the man slowly, “and I +wish you wouldn’t. One day you will lean back too far and fall in.” +</p> + +<p> +“And make the acquaintance of Truth,” said Olive lightly. “Come along.” +</p> + +<p> +She ran from him and was lost in the shadow of the pines, the bracken crackling +beneath her feet as she ran. Her companion followed slowly, and emerging from +the gloom saw her poised daintily on the edge of the well with her feet hidden +in the rank grass and nettles which surrounded it. She motioned her companion +to take a seat by her side, and smiled softly as she felt a strong arm passed +about her waist. +</p> + +<p> +“I like this place,” said she, breaking a long silence, “it is so dismal —so +uncanny. Do you know I wouldn’t dare to sit here alone, Jem. I should imagine +that all sorts of dreadful things were hidden behind the bushes and trees, +waiting to spring out on me. Ugh!” +</p> + +<p> +“You’d better let me take you in,” said her companion tenderly; “the well isn’t +always wholesome, especially in the hot weather. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s make a move.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl gave an obstinate little shake, and settled herself more securely on +her seat. +</p> + +<p> +“Smoke your cigar in peace,” she said quietly. “I am settled here for a quiet +talk. Has anything been heard of Wilfred yet?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite a dramatic disappearance, isn’t it?” she continued. “Another scrape, I +suppose, and another letter for you in the same old strain; ‘Dear Jem, help me +out.’” +</p> + +<p> +Jem Benson blew a cloud of fragrant smoke into the air, and holding his cigar +between his teeth brushed away the ash from his coat sleeves. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder what he would have done without you,” said the girl, pressing his arm +affectionately. “Gone under long ago, I suppose. When we are married, Jem, I +shall presume upon the relationship to lecture him. He is very wild, but he has +his good points, poor fellow.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never saw them,” said Benson, with startling bitterness. “God knows I never +saw them.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is nobody’s enemy but his own,” said the girl, startled by this outburst. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t know much about him,” said the other, sharply. “He was not above +blackmail; not above ruining the life of a friend to do himself a benefit. A +loafer, a cur, and a liar!” +</p> + +<p> +The girl looked up at him soberly but timidly and took his arm without a word, +and they both sat silent while evening deepened into night and the beams of the +moon, filtering through the branches, surrounded them with a silver network. +Her head sank upon his shoulder, till suddenly with a sharp cry she sprang to +her feet. +</p> + +<p> +“What was that?” she cried breathlessly. +</p> + +<p> +“What was what?” demanded Benson, springing up and clutching her fast by the +arm. +</p> + +<p> +She caught her breath and tried to laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re hurting me, Jem.” +</p> + +<p> +His hold relaxed. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter?” he asked gently. +</p> + +<p> +“What was it startled you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was startled,” she said, slowly, putting her hands on his shoulder. “I +suppose the words I used just now are ringing in my ears, but I fancied that +somebody behind us whispered ‘<i>Jem, help me out</i>.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Fancy,” repeated Benson, and his voice shook; “but these fancies are not good +for you. You—are frightened—at the dark and the gloom of these trees. Let me +take you back to the house.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m not frightened,” said the girl, reseating herself. “I should never be +really frightened of anything when you were with me, Jem. I’m surprised at +myself for being so silly.” +</p> + +<p> +The man made no reply but stood, a strong, dark figure, a yard or two from the +well, as though waiting for her to join him. +</p> + +<p> +“Come and sit down, sir,” cried Olive, patting the brickwork with her small, +white hand, “one would think that you did not like your company.” +</p> + +<p> +He obeyed slowly and took a seat by her side, drawing so hard at his cigar that +the light of it shone upon his face at every breath. He passed his arm, firm +and rigid as steel, behind her, with his hand resting on the brickwork beyond. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you warm enough?” he asked tenderly, as she made a little movement. +“Pretty fair,” she shivered; “one oughtn’t to be cold at this time of the year, +but there’s a cold, damp air comes up from the well.” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke a faint splash sounded from the depths below, and for the second +time that evening, she sprang from the well with a little cry of dismay. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it now?” he asked in a fearful voice. He stood by her side and gazed +at the well, as though half expecting to see the cause of her alarm emerge from +it. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my bracelet,” she cried in distress, “my poor mother’s bracelet. I’ve +dropped it down the well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your bracelet!” repeated Benson, dully. “Your bracelet? The diamond one?” +</p> + +<p> +“The one that was my mother’s,” said Olive. “Oh, we can get it back surely. We +must have the water drained off.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your bracelet!” repeated Benson, stupidly. +</p> + +<p> +“Jem,” said the girl in terrified tones, “dear Jem, what is the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +For the man she loved was standing regarding her with horror. The moon which +touched it was not responsible for all the whiteness of the distorted face, and +she shrank back in fear to the edge of the well. He saw her fear and by a +mighty effort regained his composure and took her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor little girl,” he murmured, “you frightened me. I was not looking when you +cried, and I thought that you were slipping from my arms, down—down—” +</p> + +<p> +His voice broke, and the girl throwing herself into his arms clung to him +convulsively. +</p> + +<p> +“There, there,” said Benson, fondly, “don’t cry, don’t cry.” +</p> + +<p> +“To-morrow,” said Olive, half-laughing, half-crying, “we will all come round +the well with hook and line and fish for it. It will be quite a new sport.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, we must try some other way,” said Benson. “You shall have it back.” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” asked the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“You shall see,” said Benson. “To-morrow morning at latest you shall have it +back. Till then promise me that you will not mention your loss to anyone. +Promise.” +</p> + +<p> +“I promise,” said Olive, wonderingly. “But why not?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is of great value, for one thing, and—But there—there are many reasons. For +one thing it is my duty to get it for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wouldn’t you like to jump down for it?” she asked mischievously. “Listen.” +</p> + +<p> +She stooped for a stone and dropped it down. +</p> + +<p> +“Fancy being where that is now,” she said, peering into the blackness; “fancy +going round and round like a mouse in a pail, clutching at the slimy sides, +with the water filling your mouth, and looking up to the little patch of sky +above.” +</p> + +<p> +“You had better come in,” said Benson, very quietly. “You are developing a +taste for the morbid and horrible.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl turned, and taking his arm walked slowly in the direction of the +house; Mrs. Benson, who was sitting in the porch, rose to receive them. +</p> + +<p> +“You shouldn’t have kept her out so long,” she said chidingly. “Where have you +been?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sitting on the well,” said Olive, smiling, “discussing our future.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t believe that place is healthy,” said Mrs. Benson, emphatically. “I +really think it might be filled in, Jem.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” said her son, slowly. “Pity it wasn’t filled in long ago.” +</p> + +<p> +He took the chair vacated by his mother as she entered the house with Olive, +and with his hands hanging limply over the sides sat in deep thought. After a +time he rose, and going upstairs to a room which was set apart for sporting +requisites selected a sea fishing line and some hooks and stole softly +downstairs again. He walked swiftly across the park in the direction of the +well, turning before he entered the shadow of the trees to look back at the +lighted windows of the house. Then having arranged his line he sat on the edge +of the well and cautiously lowered it. +</p> + +<p> +He sat with his lips compressed, occasionally looking about him in a startled +fashion, as though he half expected to see something peering at him from the +belt of trees. Time after time he lowered his line until at length in pulling +it up he heard a little metallic tinkle against the side of the well. +</p> + +<p> +He held his breath then, and forgetting his fears drew the line in inch by +inch, so as not to lose its precious burden. His pulse beat rapidly, and his +eyes were bright. As the line came slowly in he saw the catch hanging to the +hook, and with a steady hand drew the last few feet in. Then he saw that +instead of the bracelet he had hooked a bunch of keys. +</p> + +<p> +With a faint cry he shook them from the hook into the water below, and stood +breathing heavily. Not a sound broke the stillness of the night. He walked up +and down a bit and stretched his great muscles; then he came back to the well +and resumed his task. +</p> + +<p> +For an hour or more the line was lowered without result. In his eagerness he +forgot his fears, and with eyes bent down the well fished slowly and carefully. +Twice the hook became entangled in something, and was with difficulty released. +It caught a third time, and all his efforts failed’ to free it. Then he dropped +the line down the well, and with head bent walked toward the house. +</p> + +<p> +He went first to the stables at the rear, and then retiring to his room for +some time paced restlessly up and down. Then without removing his clothes he +flung himself upon the bed and fell into a troubled sleep. +</p> + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p> +Long before anybody else was astir he arose and stole softly downstairs. The +sunlight was stealing in at every crevice, and flashing in long streaks across +the darkened rooms. The dining-room into which he looked struck chill and +cheerless in the dark yellow light which came through the lowered blinds. He +remembered that it had the same appearance when his father lay dead in the +house; now, as then, everything seemed ghastly and unreal; the very chairs +standing as their occupants had left them the night before seemed to be +indulging in some dark communication of ideas. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly and noiselessly he opened the hall door and passed into the fragrant air +beyond. The sun was shining on the drenched grass and trees, and a slowly +vanishing white mist rolled like smoke about the grounds. For a moment he +stood, breathing deeply the sweet air of the morning, and then walked slowly in +the direction of the stables. +</p> + +<p> +The rusty creaking of a pump-handle and a spatter of water upon the red-tiled +courtyard showed that somebody else was astir, and a few steps farther he +beheld a brawny, sandy-haired man gasping wildly under severe self-infliction +at the pump. +</p> + +<p> +“Everything ready, George?” he asked quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said the man, straightening up suddenly and touching his forehead. +“Bob’s just finishing the arrangements inside. It’s a lovely morning for a dip. +The water in that well must be just icy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be as quick as you can,” said Benson, impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +“Very good, sir,” said George, burnishing his face harshly with a very small +towel which had been hanging over the top of the pump. “Hurry up, Bob.” +</p> + +<p> +In answer to his summons a man appeared at the door of the stable with a coil +of stout rope over his arm and a large metal candlestick in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Just to try the air, sir,” said George, following his master’s glance, “a well +gets rather foul sometimes, but if a candle can live down it, a man can.” +</p> + +<p> +His master nodded, and the man, hastily pulling up the neck of his shirt and +thrusting his arms into his coat, followed him as he led the way slowly to the +well. +</p> + +<p> +“Beg pardon, sir,” said George, drawing up to his side, “but you are not +looking over and above well this morning. If you’ll let me go down I’d enjoy +the bath.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” said Benson, peremptorily. +</p> + +<p> +“You ain’t fit to go down, sir,” persisted his follower. “I’ve never seen you +look so before. Now if—” +</p> + +<p> +“Mind your business,” said his master curtly. +</p> + +<p> +George became silent and the three walked with swinging strides through the +long wet grass to the well. Bob flung the rope on the ground and at a sign from +his master handed him the candlestick. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s the line for it, sir,” said Bob, fumbling in his pockets. +</p> + +<p> +Benson took it from him and slowly tied it to the candlestick. Then he placed +it on the edge of the well, and striking a match, lit the candle and began +slowly to lower it. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold hard, sir,” said George, quickly, laying his hand on his arm, “you must +tilt it or the string’ll burn through.” +</p> + +<p> +Even as he spoke the string parted and the candlestick fell into the water +below. +</p> + +<p> +Benson swore quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll soon get another,” said George, starting up. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind, the well’s all right,” said Benson. +</p> + +<p> +“It won’t take a moment, sir,” said the other over his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you master here, or am I?” said Benson hoarsely. +</p> + +<p> +George came back slowly, a glance at his master’s face stopping the protest +upon his tongue, and he stood by watching him sulkily as he sat on the well and +removed his outer garments. Both men watched him curiously, as having completed +his preparations he stood grim and silent with his hands by his sides. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you’d let me go, sir,” said George, plucking up courage to address him. +“You ain’t fit to go, you’ve got a chill or something. I shouldn’t wonder it’s +the typhoid. They’ve got it in the village bad.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Benson looked at him angrily, then his gaze softened. “Not this +time, George,” he said, quietly. He took the looped end of the rope and placed +it under his arms, and sitting down threw one leg over the side of the well. +</p> + +<p> +“How are you going about it, sir?” queried George, laying hold of the rope and +signing to Bob to do the same. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll call out when I reach the water,” said Benson; “then pay out three yards +more quickly so that I can get to the bottom.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good, sir,” answered both. +</p> + +<p> +Their master threw the other leg over the coping and sat motionless. His back +was turned toward the men as he sat with head bent, looking down the shaft. He +sat for so long that George became uneasy. +</p> + +<p> +“All right, sir?” he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Benson, slowly. “If I tug at the rope, George, pull up at once. +Lower away.” +</p> + +<p> +The rope passed steadily through their hands until a hollow cry from the +darkness below and a faint splashing warned them that he had reached the water. +They gave him three yards more and stood with relaxed grasp and strained ears, +waiting. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s gone under,” said Bob in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +The other nodded, and moistening his huge palms took a firmer grip of the rope. +</p> + +<p> +Fully a minute passed, and the men began to exchange uneasy glances. Then a +sudden tremendous jerk followed by a series of feebler ones nearly tore the +rope from their grasp. +</p> + +<p> +“Pull!” shouted George, placing one foot on the side and hauling desperately. +“Pull! pull! He’s stuck fast; he’s not coming; PULL!” +</p> + +<p> +In response to their terrific exertions the rope came slowly in, inch by inch, +until at length a violent splashing was heard, and at the same moment a scream +of unutterable horror came echoing up the shaft. +</p> + +<p> +“What a weight he is!” panted Bob. “He’s stuck fast or something. Keep still, +sir; for heaven’s sake, keep still.” +</p> + +<p> +For the taut rope was being jerked violently by the struggles of the weight at +the end of it. Both men with grunts and sighs hauled it in foot by foot. +</p> + +<p> +“All right, sir,” cried George, cheerfully. +</p> + +<p> +He had one foot against the well, and was pulling manfully; the burden was +nearing the top. A long pull and a strong pull, and the face of a dead man with +mud in the eyes and nostrils came peering over the edge. Behind it was the +ghastly face of his master; but this he saw too late, for with a great cry he +let go his hold of the rope and stepped back. The suddenness overthrew his +assistant, and the rope tore through his hands. There was a frightful splash. +</p> + +<p> +“You fool!” stammered Bob, and ran to the well helplessly. +</p> + +<p> +“Run!” cried George. “Run for another line.” +</p> + +<p> +He bent over the coping and called eagerly down as his assistant sped back to +the stables shouting wildly. His voice re-echoed down the shaft, but all else +was silence. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>CUPBOARD LOVE</h2> + +<p> +In the comfortable living-room at Negget’s farm, half parlour and half kitchen, +three people sat at tea in the waning light of a November afternoon. +Conversation, which had been brisk, had languished somewhat, owing to Mrs. +Negget glancing at frequent intervals toward the door, behind which she was +convinced the servant was listening, and checking the finest periods and the +most startling suggestions with a warning ’<i>ssh!</i> +</p> + +<p> +“Go on, uncle,” she said, after one of these interruptions. +</p> + +<p> +“I forget where I was,” said Mr. Martin Bodfish, shortly. +</p> + +<p> +“Under our bed,” Mr. Negget reminded him. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, watching,” said Mrs. Negget, eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +It was an odd place for an ex-policeman, especially as a small legacy added to +his pension had considerably improved his social position, but Mr. Bodfish had +himself suggested it in the professional hope that the person who had taken +Mrs. Negget’s gold brooch might try for further loot. He had, indeed, suggested +baiting the dressing-table with the farmer’s watch, an idea which Mr. Negget +had promptly vetoed. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t help thinking that Mrs. Pottle knows something about it,” said Mrs. +Negget, with an indignant glance at her husband. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Pottle,” said the farmer, rising slowly and taking a seat on the oak +settle built in the fireplace, “has been away from the village for near a +fortnit.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t say she took it,” snapped his wife. “I said I believe she knows +something about it, and so I do. She’s a horrid woman. Look at the way she +encouraged her girl Looey to run after that young traveller from Smithson’s. +The whole fact of the matter is, it isn’t your brooch, so you don’t care.” +</p> + +<p> +“I said—” began Mr. Negget. +</p> + +<p> +“I know what you said,” retorted his wife, sharply, “and I wish you’d be quiet +and not interrupt uncle. Here’s my uncle been in the police twenty-five years, +and you won’t let him put a word in edgeways.’ +</p> + +<p> +“My way o’ looking at it,” said the ex-policeman, slowly, “is different to that +o’ the law; my idea is, an’ always has been, that everybody is guilty until +they’ve proved their innocence.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a wonderful thing to me,” said Mr. Negget in a low voice to his pipe, “as +they should come to a house with a retired policeman living in it. Looks to me +like somebody that ain’t got much respect for the police.” +</p> + +<p> +The ex-policeman got up from the table, and taking a seat on the settle +opposite the speaker, slowly filled a long clay and took a spill from the +fireplace. His pipe lit, he turned to his niece, and slowly bade her go over +the account of her loss once more. +</p> + +<p> +“I missed it this morning,” said Mrs. Negget, rapidly, “at ten minutes past +twelve o’clock by the clock, and half-past five by my watch which wants looking +to. I’d just put the batch of bread into the oven, and gone upstairs and opened +the box that stands on my drawers to get a lozenge, and I missed the brooch.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you keep it in that box?” asked the ex-policeman, slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“Always,” replied his niece. “I at once came down stairs and told Emma that the +brooch had been stolen. I said that I named no names, and didn’t wish to think +bad of anybody, and that if I found the brooch back in the box when I went up +stairs again, I should forgive whoever took it.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what did Emma say?” inquired Mr. Bodfish. +</p> + +<p> +“Emma said a lot o’ things,” replied Mrs. Negget, angrily. “I’m sure by the lot +she had to say you’d ha’ thought she was the missis and me the servant. I gave +her a month’s notice at once, and she went straight up stairs and sat on her +box and cried.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sat on her box?” repeated the ex-constable, impressively. “Oh!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I thought,” said his niece, “but it wasn’t, because I got her off +at last and searched it through and through. I never saw anything like her +clothes in all my life. There was hardly a button or a tape on; and as for her +stockings—” +</p> + +<p> +“She don’t get much time,” said Mr. Negget, slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right; I thought you’d speak up for her,” cried his wife, shrilly. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here—” began Mr. Negget, laying his pipe on the seat by his side and +rising slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“Keep to the case in hand,” said the ex-constable, waving him back to his seat +again. “Now, Lizzie.” +</p> + +<p> +“I searched her box through and through,” said his niece, “but it wasn’t there; +then I came down again and had a rare good cry all to myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the best way for you to have it,” remarked Mr. Negget, feelingly. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Negget’s uncle instinctively motioned his niece to silence, and holding +his chin in his hand, scowled frightfully in the intensity of thought. +</p> + +<p> +“See a cloo?” inquired Mr. Negget, affably. +</p> + +<p> +“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, George,” said his wife, angrily; +“speaking to uncle when he’s looking like that.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Bodfish said nothing; it is doubtful whether he even heard these remarks; +but he drew a huge notebook from his pocket, and after vainly trying to point +his pencil by suction, took a knife from the table and hastily sharpened it. +</p> + +<p> +“Was the brooch there last night?” he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“It were,” said Mr. Negget, promptly. “Lizzie made me get up just as the owd +clock were striking twelve to get her a lozenge.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems pretty certain that the brooch went since then,” mused Mr. Bodfish. +</p> + +<p> +“It would seem like it to a plain man,” said Mr. Negget, guardedly. +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to see the box,” said Mr. Bodfish. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Negget went up and fetched it and stood eyeing him eagerly as he raised +the lid and inspected the contents. It contained only a few lozenges and some +bone studs. Mr. Negget helped himself to a lozenge, and going back to his seat, +breathed peppermint. +</p> + +<p> +“Properly speaking, that ought not to have been touched,” said the +ex-constable, regarding him with some severity. +</p> + +<p> +“Eh!” said the startled farmer, putting his finger to his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind,” said the other, shaking his head. “It’s too late now.” +</p> + +<p> +“He doesn’t care a bit,” said Mrs. Negget, somewhat sadly. “He used to keep +buttons in that box with the lozenges until one night he gave me one by +mistake. Yes, you may laugh—I’m glad you can laugh.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Negget, feeling that his mirth was certainly ill-timed, shook for some time +in a noble effort to control himself, and despairing at length, went into the +back place to recover. Sounds of blows indicative of Emma slapping him on the +back did not add to Mrs. Negget’s serenity. +</p> + +<p> +“The point is,” said the ex-constable, “could anybody have come into your room +while you was asleep and taken it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Mrs. Negget, decisively. “I’m a very poor sleeper, and I’d have woke +at once, but if a flock of elephants was to come in the room they wouldn’t wake +George. He’d sleep through anything.” +</p> + +<p> +“Except her feeling under my piller for her handkerchief,” corroborated Mr. +Negget, returning to the sitting-room. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Bodfish waved them to silence, and again gave way to deep thought. Three +times he took up his pencil, and laying it down again, sat and drummed on the +table with his fingers. Then he arose, and with bent head walked slowly round +and round the room until he stumbled over a stool. +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody came to the house this morning, I suppose?” he said at length, resuming +his seat. +</p> + +<p> +“Only Mrs. Driver,” said his niece. +</p> + +<p> +“What time did she come?” inquired Mr. Bodfish. +</p> + +<p> +“Here! look here!” interposed Mr. Negget. “I’ve known Mrs. Driver thirty year +a’most.” +</p> + +<p> +“What time did she come?” repeated the ex-constable, pitilessly. +</p> + +<p> +His niece shook her head. “It might have been eleven, and again it might have +been earlier,” she replied. “I was out when she came.” +</p> + +<p> +“Out!” almost shouted the other. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Negget nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“She was sitting in here when I came back.” +</p> + +<p> +Her uncle looked up and glanced at the door behind which a small staircase led +to the room above. +</p> + +<p> +“What was to prevent Mrs. Driver going up there while you were away?” he +demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“I shouldn’t like to think that of Mrs. Driver,” said his niece, shaking her +head; “but then in these days one never knows what might happen. Never. I’ve +given up thinking about it. However, when I came back, Mrs. Driver was here, +sitting in that very chair you are sitting in now.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Bodfish pursed up his lips and made another note. Then he took a spill from +the fireplace, and lighting a candle, went slowly and carefully up the stairs. +He found nothing on them but two caked rims of mud, and being too busy to +notice Mr. Negget’s frantic signalling, called his niece’s attention to them. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think of that?” he demanded, triumphantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Somebody’s been up there,” said his niece. “It isn’t Emma, because she hasn’t +been outside the house all day; and it can’t be George, because he promised me +faithful he’d never go up there in his dirty boots.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Negget coughed, and approaching the stairs, gazed with the eye of a +stranger at the relics as Mr. Bodfish hotly rebuked a suggestion of his niece’s +to sweep them up. +</p> + +<p> +“Seems to me,” said the conscience-stricken Mr. Negget, feebly, “as they’re +rather large for a woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mud cakes,” said Mr. Bodfish, with his most professional manner; “a small boot +would pick up a lot this weather.” +</p> + +<p> +“So it would,” said Mr. Negget, and with brazen effrontery not only met his +wife’s eye without quailing, but actually glanced down at her boots. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Bodfish came back to his chair and ruminated. Then he looked up and spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“It was missed this morning at ten minutes past twelve,” he said, slowly; “it +was there last night. At eleven o’clock you came in and found Mrs. Driver +sitting in that chair.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, the one you’re in,” interrupted his niece. +</p> + +<p> +“It don’t signify,” said her uncle. “Nobody else has been near the place, and +Emma’s box has been searched. +</p> + +<p> +“Thoroughly searched,” testified Mrs. Negget. +</p> + +<p> +“Now the point is, what did Mrs. Driver come for this morning?” resumed the +ex-constable. “Did she come—” +</p> + +<p> +He broke off and eyed with dignified surprise a fine piece of wireless +telegraphy between husband and wife. It appeared that Mr. Negget sent off a +humorous message with his left eye, the right being for some reason closed, to +which Mrs. Negget replied with a series of frowns and staccato shakes of the +head, which her husband found easily translatable. Under the austere stare of +Mr. Bodfish their faces at once regained their wonted calm, and the +ex-constable in a somewhat offended manner resumed his inquiries. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Driver has been here a good bit lately,” he remarked, slowly. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Negget’s eyes watered, and his mouth worked piteously. +</p> + +<p> +“If you can’t behave yourself, George,” began his wife, fiercely. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter?” demanded Mr. Bodfish. “I’m not aware that I’ve said +anything to be laughed at.” +</p> + +<p> +“No more you have, uncle,” retorted his niece; “only George is such a stupid. +He’s got an idea in his silly head that Mrs. Driver—But it’s all nonsense, of +course.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve merely got a bit of an idea that it’s a wedding-ring, not a brooch, Mrs. +Driver is after,” said the farmer to the perplexed constable. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Bodfish looked from one to the other. “But you always keep yours on, +Lizzie, don’t you?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, of course,” replied his niece, hurriedly; “but George has always got such +strange ideas. Don’t take no notice of him.” +</p> + +<p> +Her uncle sat back in his chair, his face still wrinkled perplexedly; then the +wrinkles vanished suddenly, chased away by a huge glow, and he rose wrathfully +and towered over the match-making Mr. Negget. “How dare you?” he gasped. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Negget made no reply, but in a cowardly fashion jerked his thumb toward his +wife. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! George! How can you say so?” said the latter. +</p> + +<p> +“I should never ha’ thought of it by myself,” said the farmer; “but I think +they’d make a very nice couple, and I’m sure Mrs. Driver thinks so.” +</p> + +<p> +The ex-constable sat down in wrathful confusion, and taking up his notebook +again, watched over the top of it the silent charges and countercharges of his +niece and her husband. +</p> + +<p> +“If I put my finger on the culprit,” he asked at length, turning to his niece, +“what do you wish done to her?” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Negget regarded him with an expression which contained all the Christian +virtues rolled into one. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” she said, softly. “I only want my brooch back.” +</p> + +<p> +The ex-constable shook his head at this leniency. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, do as you please,” he said, slowly. “In the first place, I want you to +ask Mrs. Driver here to tea to-morrow—oh, I don’t mind Negget’s ridiculous +ideas—pity he hasn’t got something better to think of; if she’s guilty, I’ll +soon find it out. I’ll play with her like a cat with a mouse. I’ll make her +convict herself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look here!” said Mr. Negget, with sudden vigour. “I won’t have it. I won’t +have no woman asked here to tea to be got at like that. There’s only my friends +comes here to tea, and if any friend stole anything o’ mine, I’d be one o’ the +first to hush it up.” +</p> + +<p> +“If they were all like you, George,” said his wife, angrily, “where would the +law be?” +</p> + +<p> +“Or the police?” demanded Mr. Bodfish, staring at him. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t have it!” repeated the farmer, loudly. “I’m the law here, and I’m the +police here. That little tiny bit o’ dirt was off my boots, I dare say. I don’t +care if it was.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good,” said Mr. Bodfish, turning to his indignant niece; “if he likes to +look at it that way, there’s nothing more to be said. I only wanted to get your +brooch back for you, that’s all; but if he’s against it—” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m against your asking Mrs. Driver here to my house to be got at,” said the +farmer. +</p> + +<p> +“O’ course if you can find out who took the brooch, and get it back again +anyway, that’s another matter.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Bodfish leaned over the table toward his niece. +</p> + +<p> +“If I get an opportunity, I’ll search her cottage,” he said, in a low voice. +“Strictly speaking, it ain’t quite a legal thing to do, o course, but many o’ +the finest pieces of detective work have been done by breaking the law. If +she’s a kleptomaniac, it’s very likely lying about somewhere in the house.” +</p> + +<p> +He eyed Mr. Negget closely, as though half expecting another outburst, but none +being forthcoming, sat back in his chair again and smoked in silence, while +Mrs. Negget, with a carpet-brush which almost spoke, swept the pieces of dried +mud from the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Negget was the last to go to bed that night, and finishing his pipe over +the dying fire, sat for some time in deep thought. He had from the first raised +objections to the presence of Mr. Bodfish at the farm, but family affection, +coupled with an idea of testamentary benefits, had so wrought with his wife +that he had allowed her to have her own way. Now he half fancied that he saw a +chance of getting rid of him. If he could only enable the widow to catch him +searching her house, it was highly probable that the ex-constable would find +the village somewhat too hot to hold him. He gave his right leg a +congratulatory slap as he thought of it, and knocking the ashes from his pipe, +went slowly up to bed. +</p> + +<p> +He was so amiable next morning that Mr. Bodfish, who was trying to explain to +Mrs. Negget the difference between theft and kleptomania, spoke before him +freely. The ex-constable defined kleptomania as a sort of amiable weakness +found chiefly among the upper circles, and cited the case of a lady of title +whose love of diamonds, combined with great hospitality, was a source of much +embarrassment to her guests. +</p> + +<p> +For the whole of that day Mr. Bodfish hung about in the neighbourhood of the +widow’s cottage, but in vain, and it would be hard to say whether he or Mr. +Negget, who had been discreetly shadowing him, felt the disappointment most. On +the day following, however, the ex-constable from a distant hedge saw a friend +of the widow’s enter the cottage, and a little later both ladies emerged and +walked up the road. +</p> + +<p> +He watched them turn the corner, and then, with a cautious glance round, which +failed, however, to discover Mr. Negget, the ex-constable strolled casually in +the direction of the cottage, and approaching it from the rear, turned the +handle of the door and slipped in. +</p> + +<p> +He searched the parlour hastily, and then, after a glance from the window, +ventured up stairs. And he was in the thick of his self-imposed task when his +graceless nephew by marriage, who had met Mrs. Driver and referred pathetically +to a raging thirst which he had hoped to have quenched with some of her +home-brewed, brought the ladies hastily back again. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go round the back way,” said the wily Negget as they approached the +cottage. “I just want to have a look at that pig of yours.” +</p> + +<p> +He reached the back door at the same time as Mr. Bodfish, and placing his legs +apart, held it firmly against the frantic efforts of the exconstable. The +struggle ceased suddenly, and the door opened easily just as Mrs. Driver and +her friend appeared in the front room, and the farmer, with a keen glance at +the door of the larder which had just closed, took a chair while his hostess +drew a glass of beer from the barrel in the kitchen. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Negget drank gratefully and praised the brew. From beer the conversation +turned naturally to the police, and from the police to the listening Mr. +Bodfish, who was economizing space by sitting on the bread-pan, and trembling +with agitation. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a lonely man,” said Negget, shaking his head and glancing from the corner +of his eye at the door of the larder. In his wildest dreams he had not imagined +so choice a position, and he resolved to give full play to an idea which +suddenly occurred to him. +</p> + +<p> +“I dare say,” said Mrs. Driver, carelessly, conscious that her friend was +watching her. +</p> + +<p> +“And the heart of a little child,” said Negget; “you wouldn’t believe how +simple he is.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Clowes said that it did him credit, but, speaking for herself, she hadn’t +noticed it. +</p> + +<p> +“He was talking about you night before last,” said Negget, turning to his +hostess; “not that that’s anything fresh. He always is talking about you +nowadays.” +</p> + +<p> +The widow coughed confusedly and told him not to be foolish. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask my wife,” said the farmer, impressively; “they were talking about you for +hours. He’s a very shy man is my wife’s uncle, but you should see his face +change when your name’s mentioned.” +</p> + +<p> +As a matter of fact, Mr. Bodfish’s face was at that very moment taking on a +deeper shade of crimson. +</p> + +<p> +“Everything you do seems to interest him,” continued the farmer, disregarding +Mrs. Driver’s manifest distress; “he was asking Lizzie about your calling on +Monday; how long you stayed, and where you sat; and after she’d told him, I’m +blest if he didn’t go and sit in the same chair!” +</p> + +<p> +This romantic setting to a perfectly casual action on the part of Mr. Bodfish +affected the widow visibly, but its effect on the ex-constable nearly upset the +bread-pan. +</p> + +<p> +“But here,” continued Mr. Negget, with another glance at the larder, “he might +go on like that for years. He’s a wunnerful shy man—big, and gentle, and shy. +He wanted Lizzie to ask you to tea yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Mr. Negget,” said the blushing widow. “Do be quiet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fact,” replied the farmer; “solemn fact, I assure you. And he asked her +whether you were fond of jewellery.” +</p> + +<p> +“I met him twice in the road near here yesterday,” said Mrs. Clowes, suddenly. +“Perhaps he was waiting for you to come out.” +</p> + +<p> +“I dare say,” replied the farmer. “I shouldn’t wonder but what he’s hanging +about somewhere near now, unable to tear himself away.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Bodfish wrung his hands, and his thoughts reverted instinctively to +instances in his memory in which charges of murder had been altered by the +direction of a sensible judge to manslaughter. He held his breath for the next +words. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Negget drank a little more ale and looked at Mrs. Driver. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder whether you’ve got a morsel of bread and cheese?” he said, slowly. +“I’ve come over that hungry—” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus03"></a> +<img src="images/003.jpg" width="452" height="650" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">Mrs. Driver fell back before the emerging form of Mr. +Bodfish.</p> +</div> + +<p> +The widow and Mr. Bodfish rose simultaneously. It required not the brain of a +trained detective to know that the cheese was in the larder. The unconscious +Mrs. Driver opened the door, and then with a wild scream fell back before the +emerging form of Mr. Bodfish into the arms of Mrs. Clowes. The glass of Mr. +Negget smashed on the floor, and the farmer himself, with every appearance of +astonishment, stared at the apparition open-mouthed. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr.—Bodfish!” he said at length, slowly. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Bodfish, incapable of speech, glared at him ferociously. +</p> + +<p> +“Leave him alone,” said Mrs. Clowes, who was ministering to her friend. “Can’t +you see the man’s upset at frightening her? She’s coming round, Mr. Bodfish; +don’t be alarmed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good,” said the farmer, who found his injured relative’s gaze somewhat +trying. “I’ll go, and leave him to explain to Mrs. Driver why he was hidden in +her larder. It don’t seem a proper thing to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you silly man,” said Mrs. Clowes, gleefully, as she paused at the door, +“that don’t want any explanation. Now, Mr. Bodfish, we’re giving you your +chance. Mind you make the most of it, and don’t be too shy.” +</p> + +<p> +She walked excitedly up the road with the farmer, and bidding him good-bye at +the corner, went off hastily to spread the news. Mr. Negget walked home +soberly, and hardly staying long enough to listen to his wife’s account of the +finding of the brooch between the chest of drawers and the wall, went off to +spend the evening with a friend, and ended by making a night of it. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>IN THE LIBRARY</h2> + +<p> +The fire had burnt low in the library, for the night was wet and warm. It was +now little more than a grey shell, and looked desolate. Trayton Burleigh, still +hot, rose from his armchair, and turning out one of the gas-jets, took a cigar +from a box on a side-table and resumed his seat again. +</p> + +<p> +The apartment, which was on the third floor at the back of the house, was a +combination of library, study, and smoke-room, and was the daily despair of the +old housekeeper who, with the assistance of one servant, managed the house. It +was a bachelor establishment, and had been left to Trayton Burleigh and James +Fletcher by a distant connection of both men some ten years before. +</p> + +<p> +Trayton Burleigh sat back in his chair watching the smoke of his cigar through +half-closed eyes. Occasionally he opened them a little wider and glanced round +the comfortable, well-furnished room, or stared with a cold gleam of hatred at +Fletcher as he sat sucking stolidly at his brier pipe. It was a comfortable +room and a valuable house, half of which belonged to Trayton Burleigh; and yet +he was to leave it in the morning and become a rogue and a wanderer over the +face of the earth. James Fletcher had said so. James Fletcher, with the pipe +still between his teeth and speaking from one corner of his mouth only, had +pronounced his sentence. +</p> + +<p> +“It hasn’t occurred to you, I suppose,” said Burleigh, speaking suddenly, “that +I might refuse your terms.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Fletcher, simply. +</p> + +<p> +Burleigh took a great mouthful of smoke and let it roll slowly out. +</p> + +<p> +“I am to go out and leave you in possession?” he continued. “You will stay here +sole proprietor of the house; you will stay at the office sole owner and +representative of the firm? You are a good hand at a deal, James Fletcher.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am an honest man,” said Fletcher, “and to raise sufficient money to make +your defalcations good will not by any means leave me the gainer, as you very +well know.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no necessity to borrow,” began Burleigh, eagerly. “We can pay the +interest easily, and in course of time make the principal good without a soul +being the wiser.” +</p> + +<p> +“That you suggested before,” said Fletcher, “and my answer is the same. I will +be no man’s confederate in dishonesty; I will raise every penny at all costs, +and save the name of the firm—and yours with it—but I will never have you +darken the office again, or sit in this house after to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>You</i> won’t,” cried Burleigh, starting up in a frenzy of rage. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>I</i> won’t,” said Fletcher. “You can choose the alternative: disgrace and +penal servitude. Don’t stand over me; you won’t frighten me, I can assure you. +Sit down.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have arranged so many things in your kindness,” said Burleigh, slowly, +resuming his seat again, “have you arranged how I am to live?” +</p> + +<p> +“You have two strong hands, and health,” replied Fletcher. “I will give you the +two hundred pounds I mentioned, and after that you must look out for yourself. +You can take it now.” +</p> + +<p> +He took a leather case from his breast pocket, and drew out a roll of notes. +Burleigh, watching him calmly, stretched out his hand and took them from the +table. Then he gave way to a sudden access of rage, and crumpling them in his +hand, threw them into a corner of the room. Fletcher smoked on. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Marl is out?” said Burleigh, suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“She will be away the night,” he said, slowly; “and Jane too; they have gone +together somewhere, but they will be back at half-past eight in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are going to let me have one more breakfast in the old place, then,” said +Burleigh. “Half-past eight, half-past—-” +</p> + +<p> +He rose from his chair again. This time Fletcher took his pipe from his mouth +and watched him closely. Burleigh stooped, and picking up the notes, placed +them in his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“If I am to be turned adrift, it shall not be to leave you here,” he said, in a +thick voice. +</p> + +<p> +He crossed over and shut the door; as he turned back Fletcher rose from his +chair and stood confronting him. Burleigh put his hand to the wall, and drawing +a small Japanese sword from its sheath of carved ivory, stepped slowly toward +him. +</p> + +<p> +“I give you one chance, Fletcher,” he said, grimly. “You are a man of your +word. Hush this up and let things be as they were before, and you are safe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Put that down,” said Fletcher, sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“By —, I mean what I say!” cried the other. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean what I said!” answered Fletcher. +</p> + +<p> +He looked round at the last moment for a weapon, then he turned suddenly at a +sharp sudden pain, and saw Burleigh’s clenched fist nearly touching his +breast-bone. The hand came away from his breast again, and something with it. +It went a long way off. Trayton Burleigh suddenly went to a great distance and +the room darkened. It got quite dark, and Fletcher, with an attempt to raise +his hands, let them fall to his side instead, and fell in a heap to the floor. +</p> + +<p> +He was so still that Burleigh could hardly realize that it was all over, and +stood stupidly waiting for him to rise again. Then he took out his handkerchief +as though to wipe the sword, and thinking better of it, put it back into his +pocket again, and threw the weapon on to the floor. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus04"></a> +<img src="images/004.jpg" width="424" height="650" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">Burleigh, with a feeling of nausea, drew back toward the +door.</p> +</div> + +<p> +The body of Fletcher lay where it had fallen, the white face turned up to the +gas. In life he had been a commonplace-looking man, not to say vulgar; now +Burleigh, with a feeling of nausea, drew back toward the door, until the body +was hidden by the table, and relieved from the sight, he could think more +clearly. He looked down carefully and examined his clothes and his boots. Then +he crossed the room again, and with his face averted, turned out the gas. +Something seemed to stir in the darkness, and with a faint cry he blundered +toward the door before he had realized that it was the clock. It struck twelve. +</p> + +<p> +He stood at the head of the stairs trying to recover himself; trying to think. +The gas on the landing below, the stairs and the furniture, all looked so +prosaic and familiar that he could not realize what had occurred. He walked +slowly down and turned the light out. The darkness of the upper part of the +house was now almost appalling, and in a sudden panic he ran down stairs into +the lighted hall, and snatching a hat from the stand, went to the door and +walked down to the gate. +</p> + +<p> +Except for one window the neighbouring houses were in darkness, and the lamps +shone upon a silent street. There was a little rain in the air, and the muddy +road was full of pebbles. He stood at the gate trying to screw up his courage +to enter the house again. Then he noticed a figure coming slowly up the road +and keeping close to the palings. +</p> + +<p> +The full realization of what he had done broke in upon him when he found +himself turning to fly from the approach of the constable. The wet cape +glistening in the lamplight, the slow, heavy step, made him tremble. Suppose +the thing upstairs was not quite dead and should cry out? Suppose the constable +should think it strange for him to be standing there and follow him in? He +assumed a careless attitude, which did not feel careless, and as the man passed +bade him good-night, and made a remark as to the weather. +</p> + +<p> +Ere the sound of the other’s footsteps had gone quite out of hearing, he turned +and entered the house again before the sense of companionship should have quite +departed. The first flight of stairs was lighted by the gas in the hall, and he +went up slowly. Then he struck a match and went up steadily, past the library +door, and with firm fingers turned on the gas in his bedroom and lit it. He +opened the window a little way, and sitting down on his bed, tried to think. +</p> + +<p> +He had got eight hours. Eight hours and two hundred pounds in small notes. He +opened his safe and took out all the loose cash it contained, and walking about +the room, gathered up and placed in his pockets such articles of jewellery as +he possessed. +</p> + +<p> +The first horror had now to some extent passed, and was succeeded by the fear +of death. +</p> + +<p> +With this fear on him he sat down again and tried to think out the first moves +in that game of skill of which his life was the stake. He had often read of +people of hasty temper, evading the police for a time, and eventually falling +into their hands for lack of the most elementary common sense. He had heard it +said that they always made some stupid blunder, left behind them some damning +clue. He took his revolver from a drawer and saw that it was loaded. If the +worst came to the worst, he would die quickly. +</p> + +<p> +Eight hours’ start; two hundred odd pounds. He would take lodgings at first in +some populous district, and let the hair on his face grow. When the hue-and-cry +had ceased, he would go abroad and start life again. He would go out of a night +and post letters to himself, or better still, postcards, which his landlady +would read. Postcards from cheery friends, from a sister, from a brother. +During the day he would stay in and write, as became a man who described +himself as a journalist. +</p> + +<p> +Or suppose he went to the sea? Who would look for him in flannels, bathing and +boating with ordinary happy mortals? He sat and pondered. One might mean life, +and the other death. Which? +</p> + +<p> +His face burned as he thought of the responsibility of the choice. So many +people went to the sea at that time of year that he would surely pass +unnoticed. But at the sea one might meet acquaintances. He got up and nervously +paced the room again. It was not so simple, now that it meant so much, as he +had thought. +</p> + +<p> +The sharp little clock on the mantel-piece rang out “one,” followed immediately +by the deeper note of that in the library. He thought of the clock, it seemed +the only live thing in that room, and shuddered. He wondered whether the thing +lying by the far side of the table heard it. He wondered—- +</p> + +<p> +He started and held his breath with fear. Somewhere down stairs a board creaked +loudly, then another. He went to the door, and opening it a little way, but +without looking out, listened. The house was so still that he could hear the +ticking of the old clock in the kitchen below. He opened the door a little +wider and peeped out. As he did so there was a sudden sharp outcry on the +stairs, and he drew back into the room and stood trembling before he had quite +realized that the noise had been made by the cat. The cry was unmistakable; but +what had disturbed it? +</p> + +<p> +There was silence again, and he drew near the door once more. He became certain +that something was moving stealthily on the stairs. He heard the boards creak +again, and once the rails of the balustrade rattled. The silence and suspense +were frightful. Suppose that the something which had been Fletcher waited for +him in the darkness outside? +</p> + +<p> +He fought his fears down, and opening the door, determined to see what was +beyond. The light from his room streamed out on to the landing, and he peered +about fearfully. Was it fancy, or did the door of Fletcher’s room opposite +close as he looked? Was it fancy, or did the handle of the door really turn? +</p> + +<p> +In perfect silence, and watching the door as he moved, to see that nothing came +out and followed him, he proceeded slowly down the dark stairs. Then his jaw +fell, and he turned sick and faint again. The library door, which he distinctly +remembered closing, and which, moreover, he had seen was closed when he went up +stairs to his room, now stood open some four or five inches. He fancied that +there was a rustling inside, but his brain refused to be certain. Then plainly +and unmistakably he heard a chair pushed against the wall. +</p> + +<p> +He crept to the door, hoping to pass it before the thing inside became aware of +his presence. Something crept stealthily about the room. With a sudden impulse +he caught the handle of the door, and, closing it violently, turned the key in +the lock, and ran madly down the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +A fearful cry sounded from the room, and a heavy hand beat upon the panels of +the door. The house rang with the blows, but above them sounded the loud hoarse +cries of human fear. Burleigh, half-way down to the hall, stopped with his hand +on the balustrade and listened. The beating ceased, and a man’s voice cried out +loudly for God’s sake to let him out. +</p> + +<p> +At once Burleigh saw what had happened and what it might mean for him. He had +left the hall door open after his visit to the front, and some wandering bird +of the night had entered the house. No need for him to go now. No need to hide +either from the hangman’s rope or the felon’s cell. The fool above had saved +him. He turned and ran up stairs again just as the prisoner in his furious +efforts to escape wrenched the handle from the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s there?” he cried, loudly. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me out!” cried a frantic voice. “For God’s sake, open the door! There’s +something here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stay where you are!” shouted Burleigh, sternly. “Stay where you are! If you +come out, I’ll shoot you like a dog!” +</p> + +<p> +The only response was a smashing blow on the lock of the door. Burleigh raised +his pistol, and aiming at the height of a man’s chest, fired through the panel. +</p> + +<p> +The report and the crashing of the wood made one noise, succeeded by an +unearthly stillness, then the noise of a window hastily opened. Burleigh fled +hastily down the stairs, and flinging wide the hall door, shouted loudly for +assistance. +</p> + +<p> +It happened that a sergeant and the constable on the beat had just met in the +road. They came toward the house at a run. Burleigh, with incoherent +explanations, ran up stairs before them, and halted outside the library door. +The prisoner was still inside, still trying to demolish the lock of the sturdy +oaken door. Burleigh tried to turn the key, but the lock was too damaged to +admit of its moving. The sergeant drew back, and, shoulder foremost, hurled +himself at the door and burst it open. +</p> + +<p> +He stumbled into the room, followed by the constable, and two shafts of light +from the lanterns at their belts danced round the room. A man lurking behind +the door made a dash for it, and the next instant the three men were locked +together. +</p> + +<p> +Burleigh, standing in the doorway, looked on coldly, reserving himself for the +scene which was to follow. Except for the stumbling of the men and the sharp +catch of the prisoner’s breath, there was no noise. A helmet fell off and +bounced and rolled along the floor. The men fell; there was a sobbing snarl and +a sharp click. A tall figure rose from the floor; the other, on his knees, +still held the man down. The standing figure felt in his pocket, and, striking +a match, lit the gas. +</p> + +<p> +The light fell on the flushed face and fair beard of the sergeant. He was +bare-headed, and his hair dishevelled. Burleigh entered the room and gazed +eagerly at the half-insensible man on the floor-a short, thick-set fellow with +a white, dirty face and a black moustache. His lip was cut and bled down his +neck. Burleigh glanced furtively at the table. The cloth had come off in the +struggle, and was now in the place where he had left Fletcher. +</p> + +<p> +“Hot work, sir,” said the sergeant, with a smile. “It’s fortunate we were +handy.” +</p> + +<p> +The prisoner raised a heavy head and looked up with unmistakable terror in his +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“All right, sir,” he said, trembling, as the constable increased the pressure +of his knee. “I ’ain’t been in the house ten minutes altogether. By —, I’ve +not.” +</p> + +<p> +The sergeant regarded him curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“It don’t signify,” he said, slowly; “ten minutes or ten seconds won’t make any +difference.” +</p> + +<p> +The man shook and began to whimper. +</p> + +<p> +“It was ’ere when I come,” he said, eagerly; “take that down, sir. I’ve only +just come, and it was ’ere when I come. I tried to get away then, but I was +locked in.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was?” demanded the sergeant. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>That</i>,” he said, desperately. +</p> + +<p> +The sergeant, following the direction of the terror-stricken black eyes, +stooped by the table. Then, with a sharp exclamation, he dragged away the +cloth. Burleigh, with a sharp cry of horror, reeled back against the wall. +</p> + +<p> +“All right, sir,” said the sergeant, catching him; “all right. Turn your head +away.” +</p> + +<p> +He pushed him into a chair, and crossing the room, poured out a glass of +whiskey and brought it to him. The glass rattled against his teeth, but he +drank it greedily, and then groaned faintly. The sergeant waited patiently. +There was no hurry. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is it, sir?” he asked at length. +</p> + +<p> +“My friend—Fletcher,” said Burleigh, with an effort. “We lived together.” He +turned to the prisoner. +</p> + +<p> +“You damned villain!” +</p> + +<p> +“He was dead when I come in the room, gentlemen,” said the prisoner, +strenuously. “He was on the floor dead, and when I see ’im, I tried to get out. +S’ ’elp me he was. You heard me call out, sir. I shouldn’t ha’ called out if +I’d killed him.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” said the sergeant, gruffly; “you’d better hold your tongue, you +know.” +</p> + +<p> +“You keep quiet,” urged the constable. +</p> + +<p> +The sergeant knelt down and raised the dead man’s head. +</p> + +<p> +“I ’ad nothing to do with it,” repeated the man on the floor. “I ’ad nothing to +do with it. I never thought of such a thing. I’ve only been in the place ten +minutes; put that down, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +The sergeant groped with his left hand, and picking up the Japanese sword, held +it at him. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve never seen it before,” said the prisoner, struggling. +</p> + +<p> +“It used to hang on the wall,” said Burleigh. “He must have snatched it down. +It was on the wall when I left Fletcher a little while ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“How long?” inquired the sergeant. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps an hour, perhaps half an hour,” was the reply. “I went to my bedroom.” +</p> + +<p> +The man on the floor twisted his head and regarded him narrowly. +</p> + +<p> +“You done it!” he cried, fiercely. “You done it, and you want me to swing for +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’ll do,” said the indignant constable. +</p> + +<p> +The sergeant let his burden gently to the floor again. +</p> + +<p> +“You hold your tongue, you devil!” he said, menacingly. +</p> + +<p> +He crossed to the table and poured a little spirit into a glass and took it in +his hand. Then he put it down again and crossed to Burleigh. +</p> + +<p> +“Feeling better, sir?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +The other nodded faintly. +</p> + +<p> +“You won’t want this thing any more,” said the sergeant. +</p> + +<p> +He pointed to the pistol which the other still held, and taking it from him +gently, put it into his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve hurt your wrist, sir,” he said, anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +Burleigh raised one hand sharply, and then the other. +</p> + +<p> +“This one, I think,” said the sergeant. “I saw it just now.” +</p> + +<p> +He took the other’s wrists in his hand, and suddenly holding them in the grip +of a vice, whipped out something from his pocket—something hard and cold, which +snapped suddenly on Burleigh’s wrists, and held them fast. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right,” said the sergeant; “keep quiet.” +</p> + +<p> +The constable turned round in amaze; Burleigh sprang toward him furiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Take these things off!” he choked. “Have you gone mad? Take them off!” +</p> + +<p> +“All in good time,” said the sergeant. +</p> + +<p> +“Take them off!” cried Burleigh again. +</p> + +<p> +For answer the sergeant took him in a powerful grip, and staring steadily at +his white face and gleaming eyes, forced him to the other end of the room and +pushed him into a chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Collins,” he said, sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir?” said the astonished subordinate. +</p> + +<p> +“Run to the doctor at the corner hard as you can run!” said the other. “<i>This +man is not dead!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +As the man left the room the sergeant took up the glass of spirits he had +poured out, and kneeling down by Fletcher again, raised his head and tried to +pour a little down his throat. Burleigh, sitting in his corner, watched like +one in a trance. He saw the constable return with the breathless surgeon, saw +the three men bending over Fletcher, and then saw the eyes of the dying man +open and the lips of the dying man move. He was conscious that the sergeant +made some notes in a pocket-book, and that all three men eyed him closely. The +sergeant stepped toward him and placed his hand on his shoulder, and obedient +to the touch, he arose and went with him out into the night. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>CAPTAIN ROGERS</h2> + +<p> +A man came slowly over the old stone bridge, and averting his gaze from the +dark river with its silent craft, looked with some satisfaction toward the +feeble lights of the small town on the other side. He walked with the painful, +forced step of one who has already trudged far. His worsted hose, where they +were not darned, were in holes, and his coat and knee-breeches were rusty with +much wear, but he straightened himself as he reached the end of the bridge and +stepped out bravely to the taverns which stood in a row facing the quay. +</p> + +<p> +He passed the “Queen Anne”—a mere beershop—without pausing, and after a glance +apiece at the “Royal George” and the “Trusty Anchor,” kept on his way to where +the “Golden Key” hung out a gilded emblem. It was the best house in Riverstone, +and patronized by the gentry, but he adjusted his faded coat, and with a +swaggering air entered and walked boldly into the coffee-room. +</p> + +<p> +The room was empty, but a bright fire afforded a pleasant change to the chill +October air outside. He drew up a chair, and placing his feet on the fender, +exposed his tattered soles to the blaze, as a waiter who had just seen him +enter the room came and stood aggressively inside the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Brandy and water,” said the stranger; “hot.” +</p> + +<p> +“The coffee-room is for gentlemen staying in the house,” said the waiter. +</p> + +<p> +The stranger took his feet from the fender, and rising slowly, walked toward +him. He was a short man and thin, but there was something so menacing in his +attitude, and something so fearsome in his stony brown eyes, that the other, +despite his disgust for ill-dressed people, moved back uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +“Brandy and water, hot,” repeated the stranger; “and plenty of it. D’ye hear?” +</p> + +<p> +The man turned slowly to depart. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop!” said the other, imperiously. “What’s the name of the landlord here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mullet,” said the fellow, sulkily. +</p> + +<p> +“Send him to me,” said the other, resuming his seat; “and hark you, my friend, +more civility, or ’twill be the worse for you.” +</p> + +<p> +He stirred the log on the fire with his foot until a shower of sparks whirled +up the chimney. The door opened, and the landlord, with the waiter behind him, +entered the room, but he still gazed placidly at the glowing embers. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want?” demanded the landlord, in a deep voice. +</p> + +<p> +The stranger turned a little weazened yellow face and grinned at him +familiarly. +</p> + +<p> +“Send that fat rascal of yours away,” he said, slowly. +</p> + +<p> +The landlord started at his voice and eyed him closely; then he signed to the +man to withdraw, and closing the door behind him, stood silently watching his +visitor. +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t expect to see me, Rogers,” said the latter. +</p> + +<p> +“My name’s Mullet,” said the other, sternly. “What do you want?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Mullet?” said the other, in surprise. “I’m afraid I’ve made a mistake, +then. I thought you were my old shipmate, Captain Rogers. It’s a foolish +mistake of mine, as I’ve no doubt Rogers was hanged years ago. You never had a +brother named Rogers, did you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I say again, what do you want?” demanded the other, advancing upon him. +</p> + +<p> +“Since you’re so good,” said the other. “I want new clothes, food, and lodging +of the best, and my pockets filled with money.” +</p> + +<p> +“You had better go and look for all those things, then,” said Mullet. “You +won’t find them here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay!” said the other, rising. “Well, well—There was a hundred guineas on the +head of my old shipmate Rogers some fifteen years ago. I’ll see whether it has +been earned yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I gave you a hundred guineas,” said the innkeeper, repressing his passion +by a mighty effort, “you would not be satisfied.” +</p> + +<p> +“Reads like a book,” said the stranger, in tones of pretended delight. “What a +man it is!” +</p> + +<p> +He fell back as he spoke, and thrusting his hand into his pocket, drew forth a +long pistol as the innkeeper, a man of huge frame, edged toward him. +</p> + +<p> +“Keep your distance,” he said, in a sharp, quick voice. +</p> + +<p> +The innkeeper, in no wise disturbed at the pistol, turned away calmly, and +ringing the bell, ordered some spirits. Then taking a chair, he motioned to the +other to do the same, and they sat in silence until the staring waiter had left +the room again. The stranger raised his glass. +</p> + +<p> +“My old friend Captain Rogers,” he said, solemnly, “and may he never get his +deserts!” +</p> + +<p> +“From what jail have you come?” inquired Mullet, sternly. +</p> + +<p> +“’Pon my soul,” said the other, “I have been in so many—looking for Captain +Rogers—that I almost forget the last, but I have just tramped from London, two +hundred and eighty odd miles, for the pleasure of seeing your damned ugly +figure-head again; and now I’ve found it, I’m going to stay. Give me some +money.” +</p> + +<p> +The innkeeper, without a word, drew a little gold and silver from his pocket, +and placing it on the table, pushed it toward him. +</p> + +<p> +“Enough to go on with,” said the other, pocketing it; “in future it is halves. +D’ye hear me? <i>Halves!</i> And I’ll stay here and see I get it.” +</p> + +<p> +He sat back in his chair, and meeting the other’s hatred with a gaze as steady +as his own, replaced his pistol. +</p> + +<p> +“A nice snug harbor after our many voyages,” he continued. “Shipmates we were, +shipmates we’ll be; while Nick Gunn is alive you shall never want for company. +Lord! Do you remember the Dutch brig, and the fat frightened mate?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have forgotten it,” said the other, still eyeing him steadfastly. “I have +forgotten many things. For fifteen years I have lived a decent, honest life. +Pray God for your own sinful soul, that the devil in me does not wake again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fifteen years is a long nap,” said Gunn, carelessly; “what a godsend it’ll be +for you to have me by you to remind you of old times! Why, you’re looking smug, +man; the honest innkeeper to the life! Gad! who’s the girl?” +</p> + +<p> +He rose and made a clumsy bow as a girl of eighteen, after a moment’s +hesitation at the door, crossed over to the innkeeper. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m busy, my dear,” said the latter, somewhat sternly. +</p> + +<p> +“Our business,” said Gunn, with another bow, “is finished. Is this your +daughter, Rog— Mullet?” +</p> + +<p> +“My stepdaughter,” was the reply. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus05"></a> +<img src="images/005.jpg" width="437" height="650" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">Gunn placed a hand, which lacked two fingers, on his breast.</p> +</div> + +<p> +Gunn placed a hand, which lacked two fingers, on his breast, and bowed again. +</p> + +<p> +“One of your father’s oldest friends,” he said smoothly; “and fallen on evil +days; I’m sure your gentle heart will be pleased to hear that your good father +has requested me—for a time—to make his house my home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Any friend of my father’s is welcome to me, sir,” said the girl, coldly. She +looked from the innkeeper to his odd-looking guest, and conscious of something +strained in the air, gave him a little bow and quitted the room. +</p> + +<p> +“You insist upon staying, then?” said Mullet, after a pause. +</p> + +<p> +“More than ever,” replied Gunn, with a leer toward the door. “Why, you don’t +think I’m <i>afraid</i>, Captain? You should know me better than that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Life is sweet,” said the other. +</p> + +<p> +“Ay,” assented Gunn, “so sweet that you will share things with me to keep it.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said the other, with great calm. “I am man enough to have a better +reason.” +</p> + +<p> +“No psalm singing,” said Gunn, coarsely. “And look cheerful, you old buccaneer. +Look as a man should look who has just met an old friend never to lose him +again.” +</p> + +<p> +He eyed his man expectantly and put his hand to his pocket again, but the +innkeeper’s face was troubled, and he gazed stolidly at the fire. +</p> + +<p> +“See what fifteen years’ honest, decent life does for us,” grinned the +intruder. +</p> + +<p> +The other made no reply, but rising slowly, walked to the door without a word. +</p> + +<p> +“Landlord,” cried Gunn, bringing his maimed hand sharply down on the table. +</p> + +<p> +The innkeeper turned and regarded him. +</p> + +<p> +“Send me in some supper,” said Gunn; “the best you have, and plenty of it, and +have a room prepared. The best.” +</p> + +<p> +The door closed silently, and was opened a little later by the dubious George +coming in to set a bountiful repast. Gunn, after cursing him for his slowness +and awkwardness, drew his chair to the table and made the meal of one seldom +able to satisfy his hunger. He finished at last, and after sitting for some +time smoking, with his legs sprawled on the fender, rang for a candle and +demanded to be shown to his room. +</p> + +<p> +His proceedings when he entered it were but a poor compliment to his host. Not +until he had poked and pried into every corner did he close the door. Then, not +content with locking it, he tilted a chair beneath the handle, and placing his +pistol beneath his pillow, fell fast asleep. +</p> + +<p> +Despite his fatigue he was early astir next morning. Breakfast was laid for him +in the coffee-room, and his brow darkened. He walked into the hall, and after +trying various doors entered a small sitting-room, where his host and daughter +sat at breakfast, and with an easy assurance drew a chair to the table. The +innkeeper helped him without a word, but the girl’s hand shook under his gaze +as she passed him some coffee. +</p> + +<p> +“As soft a bed as ever I slept in,” he remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope that you slept well,” said the girl, civilly. +</p> + +<p> +“Like a child,” said Gunn, gravely; “an easy conscience. Eh, Mullet?” +</p> + +<p> +The innkeeper nodded and went on eating. The other, after another remark or +two, followed his example, glancing occasionally with warm approval at the +beauty of the girl who sat at the head of the table. +</p> + +<p> +“A sweet girl,” he remarked, as she withdrew at the end of the meal; “and no +mother, I presume?” +</p> + +<p> +“No mother,” repeated the other. +</p> + +<p> +Gunn sighed and shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“A sad case, truly,” he murmured. “No mother and such a guardian. Poor soul, if +she but knew! Well, we must find her a husband.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked down as he spoke, and catching sight of his rusty clothes and broken +shoes, clapped his hand to his pocket; and with a glance at his host, sallied +out to renew his wardrobe. The innkeeper, with an inscrutable face, watched him +down the quay, then with bent head he returned to the house and fell to work on +his accounts. +</p> + +<p> +In this work Gunn, returning an hour later, clad from head to foot in new +apparel, offered to assist him. Mullett hesitated, but made no demur; neither +did he join in the ecstasies which his new partner displayed at the sight of +the profits. Gunn put some more gold into his new pockets, and throwing himself +back in a chair, called loudly to George to bring him some drink. +</p> + +<p> +In less than a month the intruder was the virtual master of the “Golden Key.” +Resistance on the part of the legitimate owner became more and more feeble, the +slightest objection on his part drawing from the truculent Gunn dark allusions +to his past and threats against his future, which for the sake of his daughter +he could not ignore. His health began to fail, and Joan watched with perplexed +terror the growth of a situation which was in a fair way of becoming +unbearable. +</p> + +<p> +The arrogance of Gunn knew no bounds. The maids learned to tremble at his +polite grin, or his worse freedom, and the men shrank appalled from his profane +wrath. George, after ten years’ service, was brutally dismissed, and refusing +to accept dismissal from his hands, appealed to his master. The innkeeper +confirmed it, and with lack-lustre eyes fenced feebly when his daughter, +regardless of Gunn’s presence, indignantly appealed to him. +</p> + +<p> +“The man was rude to my friend, my dear,” he said dispiritedly +</p> + +<p> +“If he was rude, it was because Mr. Gunn deserved it,” said Joan, hotly. +</p> + +<p> +Gunn laughed uproariously. +</p> + +<p> +“Gad, my dear, I like you!” he cried, slapping his leg. “You’re a girl of +spirit. Now I will make you a fair offer. If you ask for George to stay, stay +he shall, as a favour to your sweet self.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl trembled. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is master here?” she demanded, turning a full eye on her father. +</p> + +<p> +Mullet laughed uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +“This is business,” he said, trying to speak lightly, “and women can’t +understand it. Gunn is—is valuable to me, and George must go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Unless you plead for him, sweet one?” said Gunn. +</p> + +<p> +The girl looked at her father again, but he turned his head away and tapped on +the floor with his foot. Then in perplexity, akin to tears, she walked from the +room, carefully drawing her dress aside as Gunn held the door for her. +</p> + +<p> +“A fine girl,” said Gunn, his thin lips working; “a fine spirit. ’Twill be +pleasant to break it; but she does not know who is master here.” +</p> + +<p> +“She is young yet,” said the other, hurriedly. +</p> + +<p> +“I will soon age her if she looks like that at me again,” said Gunn. “By —, +I’ll turn out the whole crew into the street, and her with them, an’ I wish it. +I’ll lie in my bed warm o’ nights and think of her huddled on a doorstep.” +</p> + +<p> +His voice rose and his fists clenched, but he kept his distance and watched the +other warily. The innkeeper’s face was contorted and his brow grew wet. For one +moment something peeped out of his eyes; the next he sat down in his chair +again and nervously fingered his chin. +</p> + +<p> +“I have but to speak,” said Gunn, regarding him with much satisfaction, “and +you will hang, and your money go to the Crown. What will become of her then, +think you?” +</p> + +<p> +The other laughed nervously. +</p> + +<p> +“’Twould be stopping the golden eggs,” he ventured. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t think too much of that,” said Gunn, in a hard voice. “I was never one to +be baulked, as you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come. Let us be friends,” said Mullet; “the girl is young, and has had +her way.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked almost pleadingly at the other, and his voice trembled. Gunn drew +himself up, and regarding him with a satisfied sneer, quitted the room without +a word. +</p> + +<p> +Affairs at the “Golden Key” grew steadily worse and worse. Gunn dominated the +place, and his vile personality hung over it like a shadow. Appeals to the +innkeeper were in vain; his health was breaking fast, and he moodily declined +to interfere. Gunn appointed servants of his own choosing-brazen maids and +foul-mouthed men. The old patrons ceased to frequent the “Golden Key,” and its +bedrooms stood empty. The maids scarcely deigned to take an order from Joan, +and the men spoke to her familiarly. In the midst of all this the innkeeper, +who had complained once or twice of vertigo, was seized with a fit. +</p> + +<p> +Joan, flying to him for protection against the brutal advances of Gunn, found +him lying in a heap behind the door of his small office, and in her fear called +loudly for assistance. A little knot of servants collected, and stood regarding +him stupidly. One made a brutal jest. Gunn, pressing through the throng, turned +the senseless body over with his foot, and cursing vilely, ordered them to +carry it upstairs. +</p> + +<p> +Until the surgeon came, Joan, kneeling by the bed, held on to the senseless +hand as her only protection against the evil faces of Gunn and his protégés. +Gunn himself was taken aback, the innkeeper’s death at that time by no means +suiting his aims. +</p> + +<p> +The surgeon was a man of few words and fewer attainments, but under his +ministrations the innkeeper, after a long interval, rallied. The half-closed +eyes opened, and he looked in a dazed fashion at his surroundings. Gunn drove +the servants away and questioned the man of medicine. The answers were vague +and interspersed with Latin. Freedom from noise and troubles of all kinds was +insisted upon and Joan was installed as nurse, with a promise of speedy +assistance. +</p> + +<p> +The assistance arrived late in the day in the shape of an elderly woman, whose +Spartan treatment of her patients had helped many along the silent road. She +commenced her reign by punching the sick man’s pillows, and having shaken him +into consciousness by this means, gave him a dose of physic, after first +tasting it herself from the bottle. +</p> + +<p> +After the first rally the innkeeper began to fail slowly. It was seldom that he +understood what was said to him, and pitiful to the beholder to see in his +intervals of consciousness his timid anxiety to earn the good-will of the +all-powerful Gunn. His strength declined until assistance was needed to turn +him in the bed, and his great sinewy hands were forever trembling and fidgeting +on the coverlet. +</p> + +<p> +Joan, pale with grief and fear, tended him assiduously. Her stepfather’s +strength had been a proverb in the town, and many a hasty citizen had felt the +strength of his arm. The increasing lawlessness of the house filled her with +dismay, and the coarse attentions of Gunn became more persistent than ever. She +took her meals in the sick-room, and divided her time between that and her own. +</p> + +<p> +Gunn himself was in a dilemma. With Mullet dead, his power was at an end and +his visions of wealth dissipated. He resolved to feather his nest immediately, +and interviewed the surgeon. The surgeon was ominously reticent, the nurse +cheerfully ghoulish. +</p> + +<p> +“Four days I give him,” she said, calmly; “four blessed days, not but what he +might slip away at any moment.” +</p> + +<p> +Gunn let one day of the four pass, and then, choosing a time when Joan was from +the room, entered it for a little quiet conversation. The innkeeper’s eyes were +open, and, what was more to the purpose, intelligent. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re cheating the hangman, after all,” snarled Gunn. “I’m off to swear an +information.” +</p> + +<p> +The other, by a great effort, turned his heavy head and fixed his wistful eyes +on him. +</p> + +<p> +“Mercy!” he whispered. “For her sake—give me—a little time!” +</p> + +<p> +“To slip your cable, I suppose,” quoth Gunn. “Where’s your money? Where’s your +hoard, you miser?” +</p> + +<p> +Mullet closed his eyes. He opened them again slowly and strove to think, while +Gunn watched him narrowly. When he spoke, his utterance was thick and labored. +</p> + +<p> +“Come to-night,” he muttered, slowly. “Give me—time—I will make your —your +fortune. But the nurse-watches.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll see to her,” said Gunn, with a grin. “But tell me now, lest you die +first.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will—let Joan—have a share?” panted the innkeeper. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” said Gunn, hastily. +</p> + +<p> +The innkeeper strove to raise himself in the bed, and then fell back again +exhausted as Joan’s step was heard on the stairs. Gunn gave a savage glance of +warning at him, and barring the progress of the girl at the door, attempted to +salute her. Joan came in pale and trembling, and falling on her knees by the +bedside, took her father’s hand in hers and wept over it. The innkeeper gave a +faint groan and a shiver ran through his body. +</p> + +<p> +It was nearly an hour after midnight that Nick Gunn, kicking off his shoes, +went stealthily out onto the landing. A little light came from the partly open +door of the sick-room, but all else was in blackness. He moved along and peered +in. +</p> + +<p> +The nurse was siting in a high-backed oak chair by the fire. She had slipped +down in the seat, and her untidy head hung on her bosom. A glass stood on the +small oak table by her side, and a solitary candle on the high mantel-piece +diffused a sickly light. Gunn entered the room, and finding that the sick man +was dozing, shook him roughly. +</p> + +<p> +The innkeeper opened his eyes and gazed at him blankly. +</p> + +<p> +“Wake, you fool,” said Gunn, shaking him again. +</p> + +<p> +The other roused and muttered something incoherently. Then he stirred slightly. +</p> + +<p> +“The nurse,” he whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s safe enow,” said Gunn. “I’ve seen to that.” +</p> + +<p> +He crossed the room lightly, and standing before the unconscious woman, +inspected her closely and raised her in the chair. Her head fell limply over +the arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Dead?” inquired Mullet, in a fearful whisper. +</p> + +<p> +“Drugged,” said Gunn, shortly. “Now speak up, and be lively.” +</p> + +<p> +The innkeeper’s eyes again travelled in the direction of the nurse. +</p> + +<p> +“The men,” he whispered; “the servants.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dead drunk and asleep,” said Gunn, biting the words. “The last day would +hardly rouse them. Now will you speak, damn you!” +</p> + +<p> +“I must—take care—of Joan,” said the father. +</p> + +<p> +Gunn shook his clenched hand at him. +</p> + +<p> +“My money—is—is—” said the other. “Promise me on—your oath—Joan.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, ay,” growled Gunn; “how many more times? I’ll marry her, and she shall +have what I choose to give her. Speak up, you fool! It’s not for you to make +terms. Where is it?” +</p> + +<p> +He bent over, but Mullet, exhausted with his efforts, had closed his eyes +again, and half turned his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is it, damn you?” said Gunn, from between his teeth. +</p> + +<p> +Mullet opened his eyes again, glanced fearfully round the room, and whispered. +Gunn, with a stifled oath, bent his ear almost to his mouth, and the next +moment his neck was in the grip of the strongest man in Riverstone, and an arm +like a bar of iron over his back pinned him down across the bed. +</p> + +<p> +“You <i>dog!</i>” hissed a fierce voice in his ear. “I’ve got you—Captain +Rogers at your service, and now you may tell his name to all you can. Shout it, +you spawn of hell. Shout it!” +</p> + +<p> +He rose in bed, and with a sudden movement flung the other over on his back. +Gunn’s eyes were starting from his head, and he writhed convulsively. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you were a sharper man, Gunn,” said Rogers, still in the same hot +whisper, as he relaxed his grip a little; “you are too simple, you hound! When +you first threatened me I resolved to kill you. Then you threatened my +daughter. I wish that you had nine lives, that I might take them all. Keep +still!” +</p> + +<p> +He gave a half-glance over his shoulder at the silent figure of the nurse, and +put his weight on the twisting figure on the bed. +</p> + +<p> +“You drugged the hag, good Gunn,” he continued. “To-morrow morning, Gunn, they +will find you in your room dead, and if one of the scum you brought into my +house be charged with the murder, so much the better. When I am well they will +go. I am already feeling a little bit stronger, Gunn, as you see, and in a +month I hope to be about again.” +</p> + +<p> +He averted his face, and for a time gazed sternly and watchfully at the door. +Then he rose slowly to his feet, and taking the dead man in his arms, bore him +slowly and carefully to his room, and laid him a huddled heap on the floor. +Swiftly and noiselessly he put the dead man’s shoes on and turned his pockets +inside out, kicked a rug out of place, and put a guinea on the floor. Then he +stole cautiously down stairs and set a small door at the back open. A dog +barked frantically, and he hurried back to his room. The nurse still slumbered +by the fire. +</p> + +<p> +She awoke in the morning shivering with the cold, and being jealous of her +reputation, rekindled the fire, and measuring out the dose which the invalid +should have taken, threw it away. On these unconscious preparations for an +alibi Captain Rogers gazed through half-closed lids, and then turning his grim +face to the wall, waited for the inevitable alarm. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>A TIGER’S SKIN</h2> + +<p> +The travelling sign-painter who was repainting the sign of the “Cauliflower” +was enjoying a well-earned respite from his labours. On the old table under the +shade of the elms mammoth sandwiches and a large slice of cheese waited in an +untied handkerchief until such time as his thirst should be satisfied. At the +other side of the table the oldest man in Claybury, drawing gently at a long +clay pipe, turned a dim and regretful eye up at the old signboard. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve drunk my beer under it for pretty near seventy years,” he said, with a +sigh. “It’s a pity it couldn’t ha’ lasted my time.” +</p> + +<p> +The painter, slowly pushing a wedge of sandwich into his mouth, regarded him +indulgently. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all through two young gentlemen as was passing through ’ere a month or +two ago,” continued the old man; “they told Smith, the landlord, they’d been +looking all over the place for the ‘Cauliflower,’ and when Smith showed ’em the +sign they said they thought it was the ‘George the Fourth,’ and a very good +likeness, too.” +</p> + +<p> +The painter laughed and took another look at the old sign; then, with the +nervousness of the true artist, he took a look at his own. One or two shadows— +</p> + +<p> +He flung his legs over the bench and took up his brushes. In ten minutes the +most fervent loyalist would have looked in vain for any resemblance, and with a +sigh at the pitfalls which beset the artist he returned to his interrupted meal +and hailed the house for more beer. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s nobody could mistake your sign for anything but a cauliflower,” said +the old man; “it looks good enough to eat.” +</p> + +<p> +The painter smiled and pushed his mug across the table. He was a tender-hearted +man, and once—when painting the sign of the “Sir Wilfrid Lawson”—knew himself +what it was to lack beer. He began to discourse on art, and spoke somewhat +disparagingly of the cauliflower as a subject. With a shake of his head he +spoke of the possibilities of a spotted cow or a blue lion. +</p> + +<p> +“Talking of lions,” said the ancient, musingly, “I s’pose as you never ’eard +tell of the Claybury tiger? It was afore your time in these parts, I expect.” +</p> + +<p> +The painter admitted his ignorance, and, finding that the allusion had no +reference to an inn, pulled out his pipe and prepared to listen. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a while ago now,” said the old man, slowly, “and the circus the tiger +belonged to was going through Claybury to get to Wickham, when, just as they +was passing Gill’s farm, a steam-ingine they ’ad to draw some o’ the vans broke +down, and they ’ad to stop while the blacksmith mended it. That being so, they +put up a big tent and ’ad the circus ’ere. +</p> + +<p> +“I was one o’ them as went, and I must say it was worth the money, though Henry +Walker was disappointed at the man who put ’is ’ead in the lion’s mouth. He +said that the man frightened the lion first, before ’e did it. +</p> + +<p> +“It was a great night for Claybury, and for about a week nothing else was +talked of. All the children was playing at being lions and tigers and +such-like, and young Roberts pretty near broke ’is back trying to see if he +could ride horseback standing up. +</p> + +<p> +“It was about two weeks after the circus ’ad gone when a strange thing +’appened: the big tiger broke loose. Bill Chambers brought the news first, +’aving read it in the newspaper while ’e was ’aving his tea. He brought out the +paper and showed us, and soon after we ’eard all sorts o’ tales of its doings. +</p> + +<p> +“At first we thought the tiger was a long way off, and we was rather amused at +it. Frederick Scott laughed ’imself silly a’most up ’ere one night thinking ’ow +surprised a man would be if ’e come ’ome one night and found the tiger sitting +in his armchair eating the baby. It didn’t seem much of a laughing matter to +me, and I said so; none of us liked it, and even Sam Jones, as ’ad got twins +for the second time, said ‘Shame!’ But Frederick Scott was a man as would laugh +at anything. +</p> + +<p> +“When we ’eard that the tiger ’ad been seen within three miles of Claybury +things began to look serious, and Peter Gubbins said that something ought to be +done, but before we could think of anything to do something ’appened. +</p> + +<p> +“We was sitting up ’ere one evening ’aving a mug o’ beer and a pipe—same as I +might be now if I’d got any baccy left—and talking about it, when we ’eard a +shout and saw a ragged-looking tramp running toward us as ’ard as he could run. +Every now and then he’d look over ’is shoulder and give a shout, and then run +’arder than afore. +</p> + +<p> +“‘It’s the <i>tiger!</i>’ ses Bill Chambers, and afore you could wink a’most he +was inside the house, ’aving first upset Smith and a pot o’ beer in the +doorway. +</p> + +<p> +“Before he could get up, Smith ’ad to wait till we was all in. His langwidge +was awful for a man as ’ad a license to lose, and everybody shouting ‘Tiger!’ +as they trod on ’im didn’t ease ’is mind. He was inside a’most as soon as the +last man, though, and in a flash he ’ad the door bolted just as the tramp flung +’imself agin it, all out of breath and sobbing ’is hardest to be let in. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Open the door,’ he ses, banging on it. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Go away,’ ses Smith. +</p> + +<p> +“‘It’s the tiger,’ screams the tramp; ‘open the door.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘You go away,’ ses Smith, ‘you’re attracting it to my place; run up the road +and draw it off.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Just at that moment John Biggs, the blacksmith, come in from the taproom, and +as soon as he ’eard wot was the matter ’e took down Smith’s gun from behind the +bar and said he was going out to look after the wimmen and children. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Open the door,’ he ses. +</p> + +<p> +“He was trying to get out and the tramp outside was trying to get in, but Smith +held on to that door like a Briton. Then John Biggs lost ’is temper, and he ups +with the gun—Smith’s own gun, mind you—and fetches ’im a bang over the ’ead +with it. Smith fell down at once, and afore we could ’elp ourselves the door +was open, the tramp was inside, and John Biggs was running up the road, +shouting ’is hardest. +</p> + +<p> +“We ’ad the door closed afore you could wink a’most, and then, while the tramp +lay in a corner ’aving brandy, Mrs. Smith got a bowl of water and a sponge and +knelt down bathing ’er husband’s ’ead with it. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Did you see the tiger?’ ses Bill Chambers. +</p> + +<p> +“‘See it?’ ses the tramp, with a shiver. ‘Oh, Lord!’ +</p> + +<p> +“He made signs for more brandy, and Henery Walker, wot was acting as landlord, +without being asked, gave it to ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“‘It chased me for over a mile,’ ses the tramp; ‘my ’eart’s breaking.’ +</p> + +<p> +“He gave a groan and fainted right off. A terrible faint it was, too, and for +some time we thought ’ed never come round agin. First they poured brandy down +’is throat, then gin, and then beer, and still ’e didn’t come round, but lay +quiet with ’is eyes closed and a horrible smile on ’is face. +</p> + +<p> +“He come round at last, and with nothing stronger than water, which Mrs. Smith +kept pouring into ’is mouth. First thing we noticed was that the smile went, +then ’is eyes opened, and suddenly ’e sat up with a shiver and gave such a +dreadful scream that we thought at first the tiger was on top of us. +</p> + +<p> +“Then ’e told us ’ow he was sitting washing ’is shirt in a ditch, when he ’eard +a snuffling noise and saw the ’ead of a big tiger sticking through the hedge +the other side. He left ’is shirt and ran, and ’e said that, fortunately, the +tiger stopped to tear the shirt to pieces, else ’is last hour would ’ave +arrived. +</p> + +<p> +“When ’e ’ad finished Smith went upstairs and looked out of the bedroom +winders, but ’e couldn’t see any signs of the tiger, and ’e said no doubt it +’ad gone down to the village to see wot it could pick up, or p’raps it ’ad +eaten John Biggs. +</p> + +<p> +“However that might be, nobody cared to go outside to see, and after it got +dark we liked going ’ome less than ever. +</p> + +<p> +“Up to ten o’clock we did very well, and then Smith began to talk about ’is +license. He said it was all rubbish being afraid to go ’ome, and that, at any +rate, the tiger couldn’t eat more than one of us, and while ’e was doing that +there was the chance for the others to get ’ome safe. Two or three of ’em took +a dislike to Smith that night and told ’im so. +</p> + +<p> +“The end of it was we all slept in the tap-room that night. It seemed strange +at first, but anything was better than going ’ome in the dark, and we all slept +till about four next morning, when we woke up and found the tramp ’ad gone and +left the front door standing wide open. +</p> + +<p> +“We took a careful look-out, and by-and-by first one started off and then +another to see whether their wives and children ’ad been eaten or not. Not a +soul ’ad been touched, but the wimmen and children was that scared there was no +doing anything with ’em. None o’ the children would go to school, and they sat +at ’ome all day with the front winder blocked up with a mattress to keep the +tiger out. +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody liked going to work, but it ’ad to be done and as Farmer Gill said that +tigers went to sleep all day and only came out toward evening we was a bit +comforted. Not a soul went up to the ‘Cauliflower’ that evening for fear of +coming ’ome in the dark, but as nothing ’appened that night we began to ’ope as +the tiger ’ad travelled further on. +</p> + +<p> +“Bob Pretty laughed at the whole thing and said ’e didn’t believe there was a +tiger; but nobody minded wot ’e said, Bob Pretty being, as I’ve often told +people, the black sheep o’ Claybury, wot with poaching and, wot was worse, ’is +artfulness. +</p> + +<p> +“But the very next morning something ’appened that made Bob Pretty look silly +and wish ’e ’adn’t talked quite so fast; for at five o’clock Frederick Scott, +going down to feed ’is hins, found as the tiger ’ad been there afore ’im and +’ad eaten no less than seven of ’em. The side of the hin-’ouse was all broke +in, there was a few feathers lying on the ground, and two little chicks smashed +and dead beside ’em. +</p> + +<p> +“The way Frederick Scott went on about it you’d ’ardly believe. He said that +Govinment ’ud ’ave to make it up to ’im, and instead o’ going to work ’e put +the two little chicks and the feathers into a pudding basin and walked to +Cudford, four miles off, where they ’ad a policeman. +</p> + +<p> +“He saw the policeman, William White by name, standing at the back door of the +‘Fox and Hounds’ public house, throwing a ’andful o’ corn to the landlord’s +fowls, and the first thing Mr. White ses was, ‘it’s off my beat,’ he ses. +</p> + +<p> +“‘But you might do it in your spare time, Mr. White,’ ses Frederick Scott. It’s +very likely that the tiger’ll come back to my hin ’ouse for the rest of ’em, +and he’d be very surprised if ’e popped ’is ’ead in and see you there waiting +for ’im.’ +</p> + +<p> +“He’d ’ave reason to be,’ ses Policeman White, staring at ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Think of the praise you’d get,’ said Frederick Scott, coaxing like. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Look ’ere,’ ses Policeman White, ‘if you don’t take yourself and that pudding +basin off pretty quick, you’ll come along o’ me, d’ye see? You’ve been drinking +and you’re in a excited state.’ +</p> + +<p> +“He gave Frederick Scott a push and follered ’im along the road, and every time +Frederick stopped to ask ’im wot ’e was doing of ’e gave ’im another push to +show ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“Frederick Scott told us all about it that evening, and some of the bravest of +us went up to the ‘Cauliflower’ to talk over wot was to be done, though we took +care to get ’ome while it was quite light. That night Peter Gubbins’s two pigs +went. They were two o’ the likeliest pigs I ever seed, and all Peter Gubbins +could do was to sit up in bed shivering and listening to their squeals as the +tiger dragged ’em off. Pretty near all Claybury was round that sty next morning +looking at the broken fence. Some of them looked for the tiger’s footmarks, but +it was dry weather and they couldn’t see any. Nobody knew whose turn it would +be next, and the most sensible man there, Sam Jones, went straight off ’ome and +killed his pig afore ’e went to work. +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody knew what to do; Farmer Hall said as it was a soldier’s job, and ’e +drove over to Wickham to tell the police so, but nothing came of it, and that +night at ten minutes to twelve Bill Chambers’s pig went. It was one o’ the +biggest pigs ever raised in Claybury, but the tiger got it off as easy as +possible. Bill ’ad the bravery to look out of the winder when ’e ’eard the pig +squeal, but there was such a awful snarling noise that ’e daresn’t move ’and or +foot. +</p> + +<p> +“Dicky Weed’s idea was for people with pigs and such-like to keep ’em in the +house of a night, but Peter Gubbins and Bill Chambers both pointed out that the +tiger could break a back door with one blow of ’is paw, and that if ’e got +inside he might take something else instead o’ pig. And they said that it was +no worse for other people to lose pigs than wot it was for them. +</p> + +<p> +“The odd thing about it was that all this time nobody ’ad ever seen the tiger +except the tramp and people sent their children back to school agin and felt +safe going about in the daytime till little Charlie Gubbins came running ’ome +crying and saying that ’e’d seen it. Next morning a lot more children see it +and was afraid to go to school, and people began to wonder wot ’ud happen when +all the pigs and poultry was eaten. +</p> + +<p> +“Then Henery Walker see it. We was sitting inside ’ere with scythes, and +pitchforks, and such-like things handy, when we see ’im come in without ’is +hat. His eyes were staring and ’is hair was all rumpled. He called for a pot o’ +ale and drank it nearly off, and then ’e sat gasping and ’olding the mug +between ’is legs and shaking ’is ’ead at the floor till everybody ’ad left off +talking to look at ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Wot’s the matter, Henery?’ ses one of ’em. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Don’t ask me,’ ses Henery Walker, with a shiver. +</p> + +<p> +“‘You don’t mean to say as ’ow you’ve seen the tiger?” ses Bill Chambers. +</p> + +<p> +“Henery Walker didn’t answer ’im. He got up and walked back’ards and for’ards, +still with that frightened look in ’is eyes, and once or twice ’e give such a +terrible start that ’e frightened us ’arf out of our wits. Then Bill Chambers +took and forced ’im into a chair and give ’im two o’ gin and patted ’im on the +back, and at last Henery Walker got ’is senses back agin and told us ’ow the +tiger ’ad chased ’im all round and round the trees in Plashett’s Wood until ’e +managed to climb up a tree and escape it. He said the tiger ’ad kept ’im there +for over an hour, and then suddenly turned round and bolted off up the road to +Wickham. +</p> + +<p> +“It was a merciful escape, and everybody said so except Sam Jones, and ’e asked +so many questions that at last Henery Walker asked ’im outright if ’e +disbelieved ’is word. +</p> + +<p> +“‘It’s all right, Sam,’ ses Bob Pretty, as ’ad come in just after Henery +Walker. ‘I see ’im with the tiger after ’im.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Wot?’ ses Henery, staring at him. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I see it all, Henery,’ ses Bob Pretty, ‘and I see your pluck. It was all you +could do to make up your mind to run from it. I believe if you’d ’ad a fork in +your ‘and you’d ’ave made a fight for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Everybody said ‘Bravo!’; but Henery Walker didn’t seem to like it at all. He +sat still, looking at Bob Pretty, and at last ’e ses, ‘Where was you?’ ’e s,es. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Up another tree, Henery, where you couldn’t see me,’ ses Bob Pretty, smiling +at ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“Henery Walker, wot was drinking some beer, choked a bit, and then ’e put the +mug down and went straight off ’ome without saying a word to anybody. I knew ’e +didn’t like Bob Pretty, but I couldn’t see why ’e should be cross about ’is +speaking up for ’im as ’e had done, but Bob said as it was ’is modesty, and ’e +thought more of ’im for it. +</p> + +<p> +“After that things got worse than ever; the wimmen and children stayed indoors +and kept the doors shut, and the men never knew when they went out to work +whether they’d come ’ome agin. They used to kiss their children afore they went +out of a morning, and their wives too, some of ’em; even men who’d been married +for years did. And several more of ’em see the tiger while they was at work, +and came running ’ome to tell about it. +</p> + +<p> +“The tiger ’ad been making free with Claybury pigs and such-like for pretty +near a week, and nothing ’ad been done to try and catch it, and wot made +Claybury men madder than anything else was folks at Wickham saying it was all a +mistake, and the tiger ’adn’t escaped at all. Even parson, who’d been away for +a holiday, said so, and Henery Walker told ’is wife that if she ever set foot +inside the church agin ’ed ask ’is old mother to come and live with ’em. +</p> + +<p> +“It was all very well for parson to talk, but the very night he come back +Henery Walker’s pig went, and at the same time George Kettle lost five or six +ducks. +</p> + +<p> +“He was a quiet man, was George, but when ’is temper was up ’e didn’t care for +anything. Afore he came to Claybury ’e ’ad been in the Militia, and that +evening at the ‘Cauliflower’ ’e turned up with a gun over ’is shoulder and made +a speech, and asked who was game to go with ’im and hunt the tiger. Bill +Chambers, who was still grieving after ’is pig, said ’e would, then another man +offered, until at last there was seventeen of ’em. Some of ’em ’ad scythes and +some pitchforks, and one or two of ’em guns, and it was one o’ the finest +sights I ever seed when George Kettle stood ’em in rows of four and marched ’em +off. +</p> + +<p> +“They went straight up the road, then across Farmer Gill’s fields to get to +Plashett’s wood, where they thought the tiger ’ud most likely be, and the +nearer they got to the wood the slower they walked. The sun ’ad just gone down +and the wood looked very quiet and dark, but John Biggs, the blacksmith, and +George Kettle walked in first and the others follered, keeping so close +together that Sam Jones ’ad a few words over his shoulder with Bill Chambers +about the way ’e was carrying ’is pitchfork. +</p> + +<p> +“Every now and then somebody ’ud say, ‘<i>Wot’s that!</i>’ and they’d all stop +and crowd together and think the time ’ad come, but it ’adn’t, and then they’d +go on agin, trembling, until they’d walked all round the wood without seeing +anything but one or two rabbits. John Biggs and George Kettle wanted for to +stay there till it was dark, but the others wouldn’t ’ear of it for fear of +frightening their wives, and just as it was getting dark they all come tramp, +tramp, back to the ‘Cauliflower’ agin. +</p> + +<p> +“Smith stood ’em ’arf a pint apiece, and they was all outside ’ere fancying +theirselves a bit for wot they’d done when we see old man Parsley coming along +on two sticks as fast as ’e could come. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Are you brave lads a-looking for the tiger?’ he asks. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Yes,’ ses John Biggs. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Then ’urry up, for the sake of mercy,’ ses old Mr. Parsley, putting ’is ’and +on the table and going off into a fit of coughing; ‘it’s just gone into Bob +Pretty’s cottage. I was passing and saw it.’ +</p> + +<p> +“George Kettle snatches up ’is gun and shouts out to ’is men to come along. +Some of ’em was for ’anging back at first, some because they didn’t like the +tiger and some because they didn’t like Bob Pretty, but John Biggs drove ’em in +front of ’im like a flock o’ sheep and then they gave a cheer and ran after +George Kettle, full pelt up the road. +</p> + +<p> +“A few wimmen and children was at their doors as they passed, but they took +fright and went indoors screaming. There was a lamp in Bob Pretty’s front room, +but the door was closed and the ’ouse was silent as the grave. +</p> + +<p> +“George Kettle and the men with the guns went first, then came the pitchforks, +and last of all the scythes. Just as George Kettle put ’is ’and on the door he +’eard something moving inside, and the next moment the door opened and there +stood Bob Pretty. +</p> + +<p> +“‘What the dickens!’ ’e ses, starting back as ’e see the guns and pitchforks +pointing at ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“‘’Ave you killed it, Bob?’ ses George Kettle. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Killed <i>wot?</i>’ ses Bob Pretty. ‘Be careful o’ them guns. Take your +fingers off the triggers.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘The tiger’s in your ’ouse, Bob,’ ses George Kettle, in a whisper. ‘’Ave you +on’y just come in?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Look ’ere,’ ses Bob Pretty. ‘I don’t want any o’ your games. You go and play +’em somewhere else.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘It ain’t a game,’ ses John Biggs; ‘the tiger’s in your ’ouse and we’re going +to kill it. Now, then, lads.’ +</p> + +<p> +“They all went in in a ’eap, pushing Bob Pretty in front of ’em, till the room +was full. Only one man with a scythe got in, and they wouldn’t ’ave let ’im in +if they’d known. It a’most made ’em forget the tiger for the time. +</p> + +<p> +“George Kettle opened the door wot led into the kitchen, and then ’e sprang +back with such a shout that the man with the scythe tried to escape, taking +Henery Walker along with ’im. George Kettle tried to speak, but couldn’t. All +’e could do was to point with ’is finger at Bob Pretty’s kitchen—<i>and Bob +Pretty’s kitchen was for all the world like a pork-butcher’s shop</i>. There +was joints o’ pork ’anging from the ceiling, two brine tubs as full as they +could be, and quite a string of fowls and ducks all ready for market. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Wot d’ye mean by coming into my ’ouse?’ ses Bob Pretty, blustering. ‘If you +don’t clear out pretty quick, I’ll make you.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody answered ’im; they was all examining ’ands o’ pork and fowls and +such-like. +</p> + +<p> +“‘There’s the tiger,’ ses Henery Walker, pointing at Bob Pretty; ‘that’s wot +old man Parsley meant.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Somebody go and fetch Policeman White,’ ses a voice. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I wish they would,’ ses Bob Pretty. ‘I’ll ’ave the law on you all for +breaking into my ’ouse like this, see if I don’t.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Where’d you get all this pork from?’ ses the blacksmith. +</p> + +<p> +“‘And them ducks and hins?’ ses George Kettle. +</p> + +<p> +“‘That’s my bisness,’ ses Bob Pretty, staring ’em full in the face. ‘I just ’ad +a excellent oppertunity offered me of going into the pork and poultry line and +I took it. Now, all them as doesn’t want to buy any pork or fowls go out o’ my +house.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘You’re a thief, Bob Pretty!’ says Henery Walker. ‘You stole it all.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Take care wot you’re saying, Henery,’ ses Bob Pretty, ‘else I’ll make you +prove your words.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘You stole my pig,’ ses Herbert Smith. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh, ’ave I?’ ses Bob, reaching down a ’and o’ pork. ‘Is that your pig?’ he +ses. +</p> + +<p> +“‘It’s just about the size o’ my pore pig,’ ses Herbert Smith. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Very usual size, I call it,’ ses Bob Pretty; ‘and them ducks and hins very +usual-looking hins and ducks, I call ’em, except that they don’t grow ’em so +fat in these parts. It’s a fine thing when a man’s doing a honest bisness to +’ave these charges brought agin ’im. Dis’eartening, I call it. I don’t mind +telling you that the tiger got in at my back winder the other night and took +arf a pound o’ sausage, but you don’t ’ear me complaining and going about +calling other people thieves.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Tiger be hanged,’ ses Henery Walker, who was almost certain that a loin o’ +pork on the table was off ’is pig; ‘you’re the only tiger in these parts.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Henery,’ ses Bob Pretty, ‘wot are you a-thinkin’ of? Where’s your memory? +Why, it’s on’y two or three days ago you see it and ’ad to get up a tree out of +its way.’ +</p> + +<p> +“He smiled and shook ’is ’ead at ’im, but Henery Walker on’y kept opening and +shutting ’is mouth, and at last ’e went outside without saying a word. +</p> + +<p> +“‘And Sam Jones see it, too,’ ses Bob Pretty; ‘didn’t you, Sam?’ +</p> + +<p> +“Sam didn’t answer ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“‘And Charlie Hall and Jack Minns and a lot more,’ ses Bob; ‘besides, I see it +myself. I can believe my own eyes, I s’pose?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘We’ll have the law on you,’ ses Sam Jones. +</p> + +<p> +“‘As <i>you</i> like,’ ses Bob Pretty; ‘but I tell you plain, I’ve got all the +bills for this properly made out, upstairs. And there’s pretty near a dozen of +you as’ll ’ave to go in the box and swear as you saw the tiger. Now, can I sell +any of you a bit o’ pork afore you go? It’s delicious eating, and as soon as +you taste it you’ll know it wasn’t grown in Claybury. Or a pair o’ ducks wot +’ave come from two ’undered miles off, and yet look as fresh as if they was +on’y killed last night.’ +</p> + +<p> +“George Kettle, whose ducks ’ad gone the night afore, went into the front room +and walked up and down fighting for ’is breath, but it was all no good; nobody +ever got the better o’ Bob Pretty. None of ’em could swear to their property, +and even when it became known a month later that Bob Pretty and the tramp knew +each other, nothing was done. But nobody ever ’eard any more of the tiger from +that day to this.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>A MIXED PROPOSAL</h2> + +<p> +Major Brill, late of the Fenshire Volunteers, stood in front of the small piece +of glass in the hatstand, and with a firm and experienced hand gave his new +silk hat a slight tilt over the right eye. Then he took his cane and a new pair +of gloves, and with a military but squeaky tread, passed out into the road. It +was a glorious day in early autumn, and the soft English landscape was looking +its best, but despite the fact that there was nothing more alarming in sight +than a few cows on the hillside a mile away, the Major paused at his gate, and +his face took on an appearance of the greatest courage and resolution before +proceeding. The road was dusty and quiet, except for the children playing at +cottage doors, and so hot that the Major, heedless of the fact that he could +not replace the hat at exactly the same angle, stood in the shade of a tree +while he removed it and mopped his heated brow. +</p> + +<p> +He proceeded on his way more leisurely, overtaking, despite his lack of speed, +another man who was walking still more slowly in the shade of the hedge. +</p> + +<p> +“Fine day, Halibut,” he said, briskly; “fine day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Beautiful,” said the other, making no attempt to keep pace with him. +</p> + +<p> +“Country wants rain, though,” cried the Major over his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +Halibut assented, and walking slowly on, wondered vaguely what gaudy color it +was that had attracted his eye. It dawned on him at length that it must be the +Major’s tie, and he suddenly quickened his pace, by no means reassured as the +man of war also quickened his. +</p> + +<p> +“Halloa, Brill!” he cried. “Half a moment.” +</p> + +<p> +The Major stopped and waited for his friend; Halibut eyed the tie uneasily—it +was fearfully and wonderfully made—but said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” said the Major, somewhat sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh—I was going to ask you, Brill—Confound it! I’ve forgotten what I was going +to say now. I daresay I shall soon think of it. You’re not in a hurry?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I am, rather,” said Brill. “Fact is— Is my hat on straight, Halibut?” +</p> + +<p> +The other assuring him that it was, the Major paused in his career, and +gripping the brim with both hands, deliberately tilted it over the right eye +again. +</p> + +<p> +“You were saying—” said Halibut, regarding this manoeuvre with secret +disapproval. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” murmured the Major, “I was saying. Well, I don’t mind telling an old +friend like you, Halibut, though it is a profound secret. Makes me rather +particular about my dress just now. Women notice these things. I’m—sha’nt get +much sympathy from a confirmed old bachelor like you—but I’m on my way to put a +very momentous question.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil you are!” said the other, blankly. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir!” said the astonished Major. +</p> + +<p> +“Not Mrs. Riddel?” said Halibut. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, sir,” said the Major, stiffly. “Why not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only that I am going on the same errand,” said the confirmed bachelor, with +desperate calmness. +</p> + +<p> +The Major looked at him, and for the first time noticed an unusual neatness and +dressiness in his friend’s attire. His collar was higher than usual; his tie, +of the whitest and finest silk, bore a pin he never remembered to have seen +before; and for the first time since he had known him, the Major, with a +strange sinking at the heart, saw that he wore spats. +</p> + +<p> +“This is extraordinary,” he said, briefly. “Well, good-day, Halibut. Can’t +stop.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good-day,” said the other. +</p> + +<p> +The Major quickened his pace and shot ahead, and keeping in the shade of the +hedge, ground his teeth as the civilian on the other side of the road slowly, +but surely, gained on him. +</p> + +<p> +It became exciting. The Major was handicapped by his upright bearing and short +military stride; the other, a simple child of the city, bent forward, swinging +his arms and taking immense strides. At a by-lane they picked up three small +boys, who, trotting in their rear, made it evident by their remarks that they +considered themselves the privileged spectators of a foot-race. The Major could +stand it no longer, and with a cut of his cane at the foremost boy, softly +called a halt. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Halibut, stopping. +</p> + +<p> +The man’s manner was suspicious, not to say offensive, and the other had much +ado to speak him fair. +</p> + +<p> +“This is ridiculous,” he said, trying to smile. “We can’t walk in and propose +in a duet. One of us must go to-day and the other to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” said Halibut; “that’ll be the best plan.” +</p> + +<p> +“So childish,” said the Major, with a careless laugh, “two fellows walking in +hot and tired and proposing to her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Absurd,” replied Halibut, and both men eyed each other carefully. +</p> + +<p> +“So, if I’m unsuccessful, old chap,” said the Major, in a voice which he strove +to render natural and easy, “I will come straight back to your place and let +you know, so as not to keep you in suspense.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re very good,” said Halibut, with some emotion; “but I think I’ll take +to-day, because I have every reason to believe that I have got one of my +bilious attacks coming on to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pooh! fancy, my dear fellow,” said the Major, heartily; “I never saw you look +better in my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s one of the chief signs,” replied Halibut, shaking his head. “I’m afraid +I must go to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“I really cannot waive my right on account of your bilious attack,” said the +Major haughtily. +</p> + +<p> +“Your <i>right?</i>” said Halibut, with spirit. +</p> + +<p> +“My right!” repeated the other. “I should have been there before you if you had +not stopped me in the first place.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I started first,” said Halibut. +</p> + +<p> +“Prove it,” exclaimed the Major, warmly. +</p> + +<p> +The other shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall certainly not give way,” he said, calmly. “This is a matter in which +my whole future is concerned. It seems very odd, not to say inconvenient, that +you should have chosen the same day as myself, Brill, for such an errand—very +odd.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s quite an accident,” asseverated the Major; “as a matter of fact, Halibut, +I nearly went yesterday. That alone gives me, I think, some claim to +precedence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just so,” said Halibut, slowly; “it constitutes an excellent claim.” +</p> + +<p> +The Major regarded him with moistening eyes. This was generous and noble. His +opinion of Halibut rose. “And now you have been so frank with me,” said the +latter, “it is only fair that you should know I started out with the same +intention three days ago and found her out. So far as claims go, I think mine +leads.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pure matter of opinion,” said the disgusted Major; “it really seems as though +we want an arbitrator. Well, we’ll have to make our call together, I suppose, +but I’ll take care not to give you any opportunity, Halibut, so don’t cherish +any delusions on that point. Even <i>you</i> wouldn’t have the hardihood to +propose before a third party, I should think; but if you do, I give you fair +warning that I shall begin, too.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is most unseemly,” said Halibut. “We’d better both go home and leave it +for another day.” +</p> + +<p> +“When do you propose going, then?” asked the Major. +</p> + +<p> +“Really, I haven’t made up my mind,” replied the other. +</p> + +<p> +The Major shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“It won’t do, Halibut,” he said, grimly; “it won’t do. I’m too old a soldier to +be caught that way.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a long pause. The Major mopped his brow again. “I’ve got it,” he said +at last. +</p> + +<p> +Halibut looked at him curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“We must play for first proposal,” said the Major, firmly. “We’re pretty evenly +matched.” +</p> + +<p> +“Chess?” gasped the other, a whole world of protest in his tones. +</p> + +<p> +“Chess,” repeated the Major. +</p> + +<p> +“It is hardly respectful,” demurred Halibut. “What do you think the lady would +do if she heard of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Laugh,” replied the Major, with conviction. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe she would,” said the other, brightening. “I believe she would.” +</p> + +<p> +“You agree, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“With conditions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Conditions?” repeated the Major. +</p> + +<p> +“One game,” said Halibut, speaking very slowly and distinctly; “and if the +winner is refused, the loser not to propose until he gives him permission.” +</p> + +<p> +“What the deuce for?” inquired the other, suspiciously. +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose I win,” replied Halibut, with suspicious glibness, “and was so upset +that I had one of my bilious attacks come on, where should I be? Why, I might +have to break off in the middle and go home. A fellow can’t propose when +everything in the room is going round and round.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think you ought to contemplate marriage, Halibut,” remarked the Major, +very seriously and gently. +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks,” said Halibut, dryly. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” said the Major, “I agree to the conditions. Better come to my +place and we’ll decide it now. If we look sharp, the winner may be able to know +his fate to-day, after all.” +</p> + +<p> +Halibut assenting, they walked back together. The feverish joy of the gambler +showed in the Major’s eye as they drew their chairs up to the little antique +chess table and began to place their pieces ready for the fray. Then a thought +struck him, and he crossed over to the sideboard. +</p> + +<p> +“If you’re feeling a bit off colour, Halibut,” he said, kindly, “you’d better +have a little brandy to pull yourself together. I don’t wish to take a mean +advantage.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re very good,” said the other, as he eyed the noble measure of liquid +poured out by his generous adversary. +</p> + +<p> +“And now to business,” said the Major, as he drew himself a little soda from a +siphon. +</p> + +<p> +“Now to business,” repeated Halibut, rising and placing his glass on the +mantel-piece. +</p> + +<p> +The Major struggled fiercely with his feelings, but, despite himself, a guilty +blush lent colour to the other’s unfounded suspicions. +</p> + +<p> +“Remember the conditions,” said Halibut, impressively. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s my hand on it,” said the other, reaching over. +</p> + +<p> +Halibut took it, and, his thoughts being at the moment far away, gave it a +tender, respectful squeeze. The Major stared and coughed. It was suggestive of +practice. +</p> + +<p> +If the history of the duel is ever written, it will be found not unworthy of +being reckoned with the most famous combats of ancient times. Piece after piece +was removed from the board, and the Major drank glass after glass of soda to +cool his heated brain. At the second glass Halibut took an empty tumbler and +helped himself. Suddenly there was a singing in the Major’s ears, and a voice, +a hateful, triumphant voice, said, +</p> + +<p> +“Checkmate!” +</p> + +<p> +Then did his gaze wander from knight to bishop and bishop to castle in a vain +search for succour. There was his king defied by a bishop—a bishop which had +been hobnobbing with pawns in one corner of the board, and which he could have +sworn he had captured and removed full twenty minutes before. He mentioned this +impression to Halibut. +</p> + +<p> +“That was the other one,” said his foe. “I thought you had forgotten this. I +have been watching and hoping so for the last half-hour.” +</p> + +<p> +There was no disguising the coarse satisfaction of the man. He had watched and +hoped. Not beaten him, so the Major told himself, in fair play, but by taking a +mean and pitiful advantage of a pure oversight. A sheer oversight. He admitted +it. +</p> + +<p> +Halibut rose with a sigh of relief, and the Major, mechanically sweeping up the +pieces, dropped them one by one into the box. +</p> + +<p> +“Plenty of time,” said the victor, glancing at the clock. “I shall go now, but +I should like a wash first.” +</p> + +<p> +The Major rose, and in his capacity of host led the way upstairs to his room, +and poured fresh water for his foe. Halibut washed himself delicately, +carefully trimming his hair and beard, and anxiously consulting the Major as to +the set of his coat in the back, after he had donned it again. +</p> + +<p> +His toilet completed, he gave a satisfied glance in the glass, and then +followed the man of war sedately down stairs. At the hall he paused, and busied +himself with the clothes-brush and hat-pad, modestly informing his glaring +friend that he could not afford to throw any chances away, and then took his +departure. +</p> + +<p> +The Major sat up late that night waiting for news, but none came, and by +breakfast-time next morning his thirst for information became almost +uncontrollable. He toyed with a chop and allowed his coffee to get cold. Then +he clapped on his hat and set off to Halibut’s to know the worst. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” he inquired, as he followed the other into his dining-room. +</p> + +<p> +“I went,” said Halibut, waving him to a chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Am I to congratulate you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t know,” was the reply; “perhaps not just yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean by that?” said the Major, irascibly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, as a matter of fact,” said Halibut, “she refused me, but so nicely and +so gently that I scarcely minded it. In fact, at first I hardly realized that +she had refused me.” +</p> + +<p> +The Major rose, and regarding his poor friend kindly, shook and patted him +lightly on the shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s a splendid woman,” said Halibut. “Ornament to her sex,” remarked the +Major. +</p> + +<p> +“So considerate,” murmured the bereaved one. +</p> + +<p> +“Good women always are,” said the Major, decisively. “I don’t think I’d better +worry her to-day, Halibut, do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t,” said Halibut, stiffly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll try my luck to-morrow,” said the Major. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon,” said Halibut. +</p> + +<p> +“Eh?” said the Major, trying to look puzzled. +</p> + +<p> +“You are forgetting the conditions of the game,” replied Halibut. “You have to +obtain my permission first.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, my dear fellow,” said the Major, with a boisterous laugh. “I wouldn’t +insult you by questioning your generosity in such a case. No, no, Halibut, old +fellow, I know you too well.” +</p> + +<p> +He spoke with feeling, but there was an anxious note in his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“We must abide by the conditions,” said Halibut, slowly; “and I must inform +you, Brill, that I intend to renew the attack myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, sir,” said the Major, fuming, “you compel me to say—putting all modesty +aside—that I believe the reason Mrs. Riddel would have nothing to do with you +was because she thought <i>somebody else</i> might make a similar offer.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I thought,” said Halibut, simply; “but you see now that you have +so unaccountably—so far as Mrs. Riddel is concerned—dropped out of the running, +perhaps, if I am gently persistent, she’ll take me.” +</p> + +<p> +The Major rose and glared at him. +</p> + +<p> +“If you don’t take care, old chap,” said Halibut, tenderly, “you’ll burst +something.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gently persistent,” repeated the Major, staring at him; “gently persistent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Remember Bruce and his spider,” smiled the other. +</p> + +<p> +“You are <i>not</i> going to propose to that poor woman nine times?” roared his +incensed friend. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope that it will not be necessary,” was the reply; “but if it is, I can +assure you, my dear Brill, that I’m not going to be outclassed by a mere +spider.” +</p> + +<p> +“But think of her feelings!” gasped the Major. +</p> + +<p> +“I have,” was the reply; “and I’m sure she’ll thank me for it afterward. You +see, Brill, you and I are the only eligibles in the place, and now you are out +of it, she’s sure to take me sooner or later.” +</p> + +<p> +“And pray how long am I to wait?” demanded the Major, controlling himself with +difficulty. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t say,” said Halibut; “but I don’t think it’s any good your waiting at +all, because if I see any signs that Mrs. Riddel is waiting for you I may just +give her a hint of the hopelessness of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a perfect Mephistopheles, sir!” bawled the indignant Major. Halibut +bowed. +</p> + +<p> +“Strategy, my dear Brill,” he said, smiling; “strategy. Now why waste your +time? Why not make some other woman happy? Why not try her companion, Miss +Philpotts? I’m sure any little assistance—” +</p> + +<p> +The Major’s attitude was so alarming that the sentence was never finished, and +a second later the speaker found himself alone, watching his irate friend +hurrying frantically down the path, knocking the blooms off the geraniums with +his cane as he went. He saw no more of him for several weeks, the Major +preferring to cherish his resentment in the privacy of his house. The Major +also refrained from seeing the widow, having a wholesome dread as to what +effect the contemplation of her charms might have upon his plighted word. +</p> + +<p> +He met her at last by chance. Mrs. Riddel bowed coldly and would have passed +on, but the Major had already stopped, and was making wild and unmerited +statements about the weather. +</p> + +<p> +“It is seasonable,” she said, simply. +</p> + +<p> +The Major agreed with her, and with a strong-effort regained his composure. +</p> + +<p> +“I was just going to turn back,” he said, untruthfully; “may I walk with you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not going far,” was the reply. +</p> + +<p> +With soldierly courage the Major took this as permission; with feminine +precision Mrs. Riddel walked about fifty yards and then stopped. “I told you I +wasn’t going far,” she said sweetly, as she held out her hand. “Goodby.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wanted to ask you something,” said the Major, turning with her. “I can’t +think what it was. +</p> + +<p> +They walked on very slowly, the Major’s heart beating rapidly as he told +himself that the lady’s coldness was due to his neglect of the past few weeks, +and his wrath against Halibut rose to still greater heights as he saw the cruel +position in which that schemer had placed him. Then he made a sudden +resolution. There was no condition as to secrecy, and, first turning the +conversation on to indoor amusements, he told the astonished Mrs. Riddel the +full particulars of the fatal game. Mrs. Riddel said that she would never +forgive them; it was the most preposterous thing she had ever heard of. And she +demanded hotly whether she was to spend the rest of her life in refusing Mr. +Halibut. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you play high as a rule?” she inquired, scornfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Sixpence a game,” replied the Major, simply. +</p> + +<p> +The corners of Mrs. Riddel’s mouth relaxed, and her fine eyes began to water; +then she turned her head away and laughed. “It was very foolish of us, I +admit,” said the Major, ruefully, “and very wrong. I shouldn’t have told you, +only I couldn’t explain my apparent neglect without.” +</p> + +<p> +“Apparent neglect?” repeated the widow, somewhat haughtily. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, put it down to a guilty conscience,” said the Major; “it seems years to +me since I have seen you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Remember the conditions, Major Brill,” said Mrs. Riddel, with severity. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall not transgress them,” replied the Major, seriously. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Riddel gave her head a toss, and regarded him from the corner of her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I am very angry with you, indeed,” she said, severely. The Major apologized +again. “For losing,” added the lady, looking straight before her. +</p> + +<p> +Major Brill caught his breath and his knees trembled beneath him. He made a +half-hearted attempt to seize her hand, and then remembering his position, +sighed deeply and looked straight before him. They walked on in silence. +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” said his companion at last, “that, if you like, you can get back at +cribbage what you lost at chess. That is, of course, if you really want to.” +</p> + +<p> +“He wouldn’t play,” said the Major, shaking his head. +</p> + +<p> +“No, but I will,” said Mrs. Riddel, with a smile. “I think I’ve got a plan.” +</p> + +<p> +She blushed charmingly, and then, in modest alarm at her boldness, dropped her +voice almost to a whisper. The Major gazed at her in speechless admiration and +threw back his head in ecstasy. “Come round to-morrow afternoon,” said Mrs. +Riddel, pausing at the end of the lane. “Mr. Halibut shall be there, too, and +it shall be done under his very eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +Until that time came the Major sat at home carefully rehearsing his part, and +it was with an air of complacent virtue that he met the somewhat astonished +gaze of the persistent Halibut next day. It was a bright afternoon, but they +sat indoors, and Mrs. Riddel, after an animated description of a game at +cribbage with Miss Philpotts the night before, got the cards out and challenged +Halibut to a game. +</p> + +<p> +They played two, both of which the diplomatic Halibut lost; then Mrs. Riddel, +dismissing him as incompetent, sat drumming on the table with her fingers, and +at length challenged the Major. She lost the first game easily, and began the +second badly. Finally, after hastily glancing at a new hand, she flung the +cards petulantly on the table, face downward. +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like my hand, Major Brill?” she demanded, with a blush. +</p> + +<p> +“Better than anything in the world,” cried the Major, eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +Halibut started, and Miss Philpotts nearly had an accident with her crochet +hook. The only person who kept cool was Mrs. Riddel, and it was quite clear to +the beholders that she had realized neither the ambiguity of her question nor +the meaning of her opponent’s reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you may have it,” she said, brightly. +</p> + +<p> +Before Miss Philpotts could lay down her work, before Mr. Halibut could +interpose, the Major took possession of Mrs. Riddel’s small white hand and +raised it gallantly to his lips. Mrs. Riddel, with a faint scream which was a +perfect revelation to the companion, snatched her hand away. “I meant my hand +of cards,” she said, breathlessly. +</p> + +<p> +“Really, Brill, really,” said Halibut, stepping forward fussily. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said the Major, blankly; “cards!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I meant, of course,” said Mrs. Riddel, recovering herself with a +laugh. “I had no idea still—if you prefer—-” The Major took her hand again, and +Miss Philpotts set Mr. Halibut an example—which he did not follow—by gazing +meditatively out of the window. Finally she gathered up her work and quitted +the room. Mrs. Riddel smiled over at Mr. Halibut and nodded toward the Major. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus06"></a> +<img src="images/006.jpg" width="456" height="650" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“Don’t you think Major Brill is somewhat hasty in his +conclusions?”</p> +</div> + +<p> +“Don’t you think Major Brill is somewhat hasty in his conclusions?” she +inquired, softly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell Major Brill what I think of him when I get him alone,” said the +injured gentleman, sourly. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>AN ADULTERATION ACT</h2> + +<p> +Dr. Frank Carson had been dreaming tantalizing dreams of cooling, effervescent +beverages. Over and over again in his dreams he had risen from his bed, and +tripping lightly down to the surgery in his pajamas, mixed himself something +long and cool and fizzy, without being able to bring the dream to a +satisfactory termination. +</p> + +<p> +With a sudden start he awoke. The thirst was still upon him; the materials for +quenching it, just down one flight of stairs. He would have smacked his lips at +the prospect if they had been moist enough to smack; as it was, he pushed down +the bedclothes, and throwing one leg out of bed-became firmly convinced that he +was still dreaming. +</p> + +<p> +For the atmosphere was stifling and odorous, and the ceiling descended in an +odd bulging curve to within a couple of feet of his head. Still half asleep, he +raised his fist and prodded at it in astonishment—a feeling which gave way to +one of stupefaction as the ceiling took another shape and swore distinctly. +</p> + +<p> +“I <i>must</i> be dreaming,” mused the doctor; “even the ceiling seems alive.” +</p> + +<p> +He prodded it again-regarding it closely this time. The ceiling at once rose to +greater altitudes, and at the same moment an old face with bushy whiskers +crawled under the edge of it, and asked him profanely what he meant by it. It +also asked him whether he wanted something for himself, because, if so, he was +going the right way to work. +</p> + +<p> +“Where am I?” demanded the bewildered doctor. “<i>Mary! Mary!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +He started up in bed, and brought his head in sudden violent contact with the +ceiling. Then, before the indignant ceiling could carry out its threat of a +moment before, he slipped out of bed and stood on a floor which was in its +place one moment and somewhere else the next. +</p> + +<p> +In the smell of bilge-water, tar, and the foetid atmosphere generally his +clouded brain awoke to the fact that he was on board ship, but resolutely +declined to inform him how he got there. He looked down in disgust at the +ragged clothes which he had on in lieu of the usual pajamas; and then, as +events slowly pieced themselves together in his mind, remembered, as the last +thing that he could remember, that he had warned his friend Harry Thomson, +solicitor, that if he had any more to drink it would not be good for him. +</p> + +<p> +He wondered dimly as he stood whether Thomson was there too, and walking +unsteadily round the forecastle, roused the sleepers, one by one, and asked +them whether they were Harry Thomson, all answering with much fluency in the +negative, until he came to one man who for some time made no answer at all. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor shook him first and then punched him. Then he shook him again and +gave him little scientific slaps, until at length Harry Thomson, in a far-away +voice, said that he was all right. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m glad I’m not alone,” said the doctor, selfishly. “<i>Harry! Harry! +Wake up!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“All ri’!” said the sleeper; “I’m all ri’!” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor shook him again, and then rolled him backward and forward in his +bunk. Under this gentle treatment the solicitor’s faculties were somewhat +brightened, and, half opening his eyes, he punched viciously at the disturber +of his peace, until threatening voices from the gloom promised to murder both +of them. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are we?” demanded the doctor, of a deep voice from the other side of the +forecastle which had been particularly threatening. +</p> + +<p> +“Barque <i>Stella</i>, o’ course,” was the reply. “Where’d you think you was?” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor gripped the edge of his friend’s bunk and tried to think; then, a +feeling of nausea overcoming all others, he clambered hurriedly up the +forecastle ladder and lurched to the side of the vessel. +</p> + +<p> +He leaned there for some time without moving, a light breeze cooling his +fevered brow, and a small schooner some little distance from them playing +seesaw, as he closed his eyes to the heaving blue sea. Land was conspicuous by +its absence, and with a groan he turned and looked about him—at the white +scrubbed deck, the snowy canvas towering aloft on lazily creaking spars, and +the steersman leaning against the wheel regarding the officer who stood near +by. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Carson, feeling a little better, walked sternly aft, the officer turning +round and glancing in surprise at his rags as he approached. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon,” began the doctor, in superior tones. +</p> + +<p> +“And what the devil do you want?” demanded the second officer; “who told you to +come along here?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to know what this means,” said the doctor, fiercely. “How dare you +kidnap us on your beastly bilge-tank?” +</p> + +<p> +“Man’s mad,” murmured the astonished second officer. +</p> + +<p> +“Insufferable outrage!” continued the doctor. “Take us back to Melbourne at +once.” +</p> + +<p> +“You get for’ard,” said the other sharply; “get for’ard, and don’t let me have +any more of your lip.” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to see the captain of this ship,” cried the doctor; “go and fetch him +at once.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus07"></a> +<img src="images/007.jpg" width="454" height="650" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">He saw another tatterdemalion coming toward him.</p> +</div> + +<p> +The second officer gazed at him, limp with astonishment, and then turned to the +steersman, as though unable to believe his ears. The steersman pointed in front +of him, and the other gave a cry of surprise and rage as he saw another +tatterdemalion coming with uncertain steps toward him. +</p> + +<p> +“Carson,” said the new arrival, feebly; and coming closer to his friend, clung +to him miserably. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m just having it out with ’em, Thomson,” said the doctor, energetically. “My +friend here is a solicitor. Tell him what’ll happen if they don’t take us back, +Harry.” +</p> + +<p> +“You seem to be unaware, my good fellow,” said the solicitor, covering a large +hole in the leg of his trousers with his hand, “of the very dangerous situation +in which you have placed yourselves. We have no desire to be harsh with you—” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all,” acquiesced the doctor, nodding at the second officer. +</p> + +<p> +“At the same time,” continued Mr. Thomson—“at the—” He let go his friend’s arm +and staggered away; the doctor gazed after him sympathetically. +</p> + +<p> +“His digestion is not all it should be,” he said to the second officer, +confidentially. +</p> + +<p> +“If you don’t get for’ard in two twos,” said that gentleman, explosively, “I’ll +knock your heads off.” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor gazed at him in haughty disdain, and taking the limp Thomson by the +arm, led him slowly away. +</p> + +<p> +“How did we get here?” asked Mr. Harry Thomson, feebly. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“How did we get these disgusting clothes on?” continued his friend. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor shook his head again. “The last thing I can remember, Harry,” he +said, slowly, “was imploring you not to drink any more.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t hear you,” said the solicitor, crustily; “your speech was very +indistinct last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Seemed so to you, I dare say,” said the other. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Thomson shook his arm off, and clinging to the mainmast, leaned his cheek +against it and closed his eyes. He opened them again at the sound of voices, +and drew himself up as he saw the second officer coming along with a +stern-visaged man of about fifty. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you the master of this vessel?” inquired the doctor, stepping to his +friend’s side. +</p> + +<p> +“What the blazes has that got to do with you?” demanded the skipper. “Look +here, my lads; don’t you play any of your little games on me, because they +won’t do. You’re both of you as drunk as owls.” +</p> + +<p> +“Defamation of character,” said the solicitor, feebly, to his friend. +</p> + +<p> +“Allow me,” said the doctor, with his best manner, “to inquire what all this +means. I am Dr. Frank Carson, of Melbourne; this gentleman is my friend Mr. +Thomson, of the same place, solicitor.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>What?</i>” roared the skipper, the veins in his forehead standing out. +“Doctor! Solicitor! Why, you damned rascals, you shipped with me as cook and A. +B.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s some mistake,” said the doctor. “I’m afraid I shall have to ask you to +take us back. I hope you haven’t come far.” +</p> + +<p> +“Take those scarecrows away,” cried the skipper, hoarsely; “take them away +before I do them a mischief. I’ll have the law of somebody for shipping two +useless lubbers as seamen. Look to me like pickpockets.” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall answer for this,” said Carson, foaming; “we’re professional men, and +we’re not going to be abused by a bargee.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let him talk,” said Mr. Thomson, hurriedly drawing his friend away from the +irate skipper. “Let him talk.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll put you both in quod when we get to Hong-kong,” said the skipper. +“Meantime, no work, no food; d’ye hear? Start and cook the breakfast, Mr. +Doctor; and you. Mr. Lawyer, turn to and ask the boy to teach you an A. B’s +duties.” +</p> + +<p> +He walked back to the cabin; and the new cook was slowly pushed toward the +galley by the second officer, the new A. B., under the same gentle guidance, +being conducted back to the forecastle. +</p> + +<p> +Fortunately for the new seamen the weather continued fine, but the heat of the +galley was declared by the new cook to be insupportable. From the other hands +they learned that they had been shipped with several others by a resourceful +boarding-house master. The other hands, being men of plain speech, also said +that they were brought aboard in a state of beastly and enviable intoxication, +and chaffed crudely when the doctor attributed their apparent state of +intoxication to drugs. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus08"></a> +<img src="images/008.jpg" width="366" height="650" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“You say you’re a doctor?”</p> +</div> + +<p> +“You say you’re a doctor?” said the oldest seaman. +</p> + +<p> +“I am,” said Carson, fiercely. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot sort of a doctor are you, if you don’t know when your licker’s been played +with, then?” asked the old man, as a grin passed slowly from mouth to mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose it is because I drink so seldom,” said the doctor, loftily. “I +hardly know the taste of liquor myself, while as for my friend Mr. Thomson, you +might almost call him a teetotaler. +</p> + +<p> +“Next door to one,” said the solicitor, who was sewing a patch on his trousers, +as he looked up approvingly. +</p> + +<p> +“You <i>might</i> call ’im a sailor, if you liked,” said another seaman, “but +that wouldn’t make him one. All I can say is I never ’ad enough time or money +to get in the state you was both in when you come aboard.” +</p> + +<p> +If the forecastle was incredulous, the cabin was worse. The officers at first +took but little notice of them, but feeling their torn and tattered appearance +was against them, they put on so many airs and graces to counteract this that +flesh and blood could not endure it quietly. The cook would allude to his +friend as Mr. Thomson, while the A. B. would persist in referring, with a most +affected utterance, to Dr. Carson. +</p> + +<p> +“Cook!” bawled the skipper one day when they were about a week out. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Carson, who was peeling potatoes, stepped slowly out of the galley and went +toward him. +</p> + +<p> +“You say ‘Sir,’ when you’re spoken to,” said the skipper, fiercely. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor sneered. +</p> + +<p> +“My — if you sneer at me, I’ll knock your head off!” said the other, with a +wicked look. +</p> + +<p> +“When you get back to Melbourne,” said the doctor, quietly, “you’ll hear more +of this.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a couple of pickpockets aping the gentleman,” said the skipper, and he +turned to the mate. “Mr. Mackenzie, what do these two ragamuffins look like?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pickpockets,” said the mate, dutifully. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a very handy thing,” said the old man, jeeringly, “to have a doctor +aboard. First time I’ve carried a surgeon.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Mackenzie guffawed loudly. +</p> + +<p> +“And a solicitor,” said the skipper, gazing darkly at the hapless Harry +Thomson, who was cleaning brasswork. “Handy in case of disputes. He’s a real +sea lawyer. <i>Cook!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir?” said the doctor, quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“Go down and tidy my cabin, and see you do it well.” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor went below without a word, and worked like a housemaid. When he came +on deck again, his face wore a smile almost of happiness, and his hand caressed +one trousers pocket as though it concealed a hidden weapon. +</p> + +<p> +For the following three or four days the two unfortunates were worked +unceasingly. Mr. Thomson complained bitterly, but the cook wore a sphinx-like +smile and tried to comfort him. +</p> + +<p> +“It won’t be for long, Harry,” he said, consolingly. +</p> + +<p> +The solicitor sniffed. “I could write tract after tract on temperance,” he +said, bitterly. “I wonder what our poor wives are thinking? I expect they have +put us down as dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Crying their eyes out,” said the doctor, wistfully; “but they’ll dry them +precious quick when we get back, and ask all sorts of questions. What are you +going to say, Harry?” +</p> + +<p> +“The truth,” said the solicitor, virtuously. +</p> + +<p> +“So am I,” said his friend; “but mind, we must both tell the same tale, +whatever it is. Halloa! what’s the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the skipper,” said the boy, who had just run up; “he wants to see you at +once. He’s dying.” +</p> + +<p> +He caught hold of the doctor by the sleeve; but Carson, in his most +professional manner, declined to be hurried. He went leisurely down the +companion-ladder, and met with a careless glance the concerned faces of the +mate and second officer. +</p> + +<p> +“Come to the skipper at once,” said the mate. +</p> + +<p> +“Does he want to see me?” said the doctor, languidly, as he entered the cabin. +</p> + +<p> +The skipper was lying doubled up in his bunk, his face twisted with pain. +“Doctor,” he panted, “give me something quick. There’s the medicine-chest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you want some food, sir?” inquired the other, respectfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Food be damned!” said the sufferer. “I want physic. There’s the +medicine-chest.” The doctor took it up and held it out to him. “I don’t want +the lot,” moaned the skipper. +</p> + +<p> +“I want you to give me something for red-hot corkscrews in the inside.” +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon,” said the doctor, humbly; “I’m only the cook.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you—don’t—prescribe for me at once,” said the skipper, “I’ll put you in +irons.” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor shook his head. “I shipped as cook,” he said, slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me something, for Heaven’s sake!” said the skipper, humbly. “I’m dying.” +The doctor pondered. +</p> + +<p> +“If you dinna treat him at once, I’ll break your skull,” said the mate, +persuasively. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor regarded him scornfully, and turned to the writhing skipper. +</p> + +<p> +“My fee is half a guinea a visit,” he said, softly; “five shillings if you come +to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll have half a guinea’s worth,” said the agonized skipper. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor took his wrist, and calmly drew the second officer’s watch from its +owner’s pocket. Then he inspected the sick man’s tongue, and shaking his head, +selected a powder from the chest. +</p> + +<p> +“You mustn’t mind its being nasty,” he said. “Where’s a spoon?” +</p> + +<p> +He looked round for one, but the skipper took the powder from his hand, and +licked it from the paper as though it had been sherbet. +</p> + +<p> +“For mercy’s sake don’t say it’s cholera,” he gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t say anything,” said the doctor. “Where did you say the money was?” +</p> + +<p> +The skipper pointed to his trousers, and Mr. Mackenzie, his national spirit +rising in hot rage, took out the agreed amount and handed it to the physician. +</p> + +<p> +“Am I in danger?” said the skipper. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s always danger,” said the doctor, in his best bedside manner. “Have you +made your will?” +</p> + +<p> +The other, turning pale, shook his head. “Perhaps you’d like to see a +solicitor?” said Carson, in winning tones. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not bad enough for that,” said the skipper, stoutly. +</p> + +<p> +“You must stay here and nurse the skipper, Mr. Mackenzie,” said Carson, turning +to the mate; “and be good enough not to make that snuffling noise; it’s +worrying to an invalid.” +</p> + +<p> +“Snuffling noise?” repeated the horror-struck mate. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; you’ve got an unpleasant habit of snuffling,” said the doctor; “it +sometimes. I worries me meant to speak to you about it before. You mustn’t do +it here. If you want to snuffle, go and snuffle on deck.” +</p> + +<p> +The frenzied outburst of the mate was interrupted by the skipper. “Don’t make +that noise in my cabin, Mr. Mackenzie,” he said, severely. +</p> + +<p> +Both mates withdrew in dudgeon, and Carson, after arranging the sufferer’s +bedclothes, quitted the cabin and sought his friend. Mr. Thomson was at first +incredulous, but his eyes glistened brightly at the sight of the +half-sovereign. +</p> + +<p> +“Better hide it,” he said, apprehensively; “the skipper’ll have it back when he +gets well; it’s the only coin we’ve got.” +</p> + +<p> +“He won’t get well,” said Dr. Carson, easily; “not till we get to Hong-kong, +that is.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter with him?” whispered the solicitor. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor, evading his eye, pulled a long face and shook his head. “It may be +the cooking,” he said, slowly. “I’m not a good cook, I admit. It might be +something got into the food from the medicine-chest. I shouldn’t be at all +surprised if the mates are taken bad too.” +</p> + +<p> +And indeed at that very moment the boy came rushing to the galley again, +bawling out that Mr. Mackenzie was lying flat on his stomach in his bunk, +punching the air with his fists and rending it with his language. The second +officer appeared on deck as he finished his tale, and glancing forward, called +out loudly for the cook. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re wanted, Frank,” said the solicitor. +</p> + +<p> +“When he calls me doctor, I’ll go,” said the other, stiffly. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Cook!</i>” bawled the second officer. “<i>Cook!</i> C<small>OOK</small>!” +</p> + +<p> +He came running forward, his face red and angry, and his fist doubled. “Didn’t +you hear me calling you?” he demanded, fiercely. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been promoted,” said Carson, sweetly. “I’m ship’s surgeon now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come down below at once, or I’ll take you there by the scruff of your neck,” +vociferated the other. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not big enough, little man,” said the doctor, still smiling. “Well, +well, lead the way, and we’ll see what we can do.” +</p> + +<p> +He followed the speechless second officer below, and found the boy’s +description of the first officer’s state as moonlight unto sunlight, as water +unto wine. Even the second officer was appalled at the spectacle, and ventured +a protest. +</p> + +<p> +“Gie me something at once,” yelled Mr. Mackenzie. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you wish me to undertake your case?” inquired the doctor, suavely. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Mackenzie said that he did, in seven long, abusive, and wicked sentences. +</p> + +<p> +“My fee is half a guinea,” said the doctor, softly, “poor people who cannot +afford more, mates and the like, I sometimes treat for less.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll die first,” howled the mate; “you won’t get any money out of me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good,” said the doctor, and rose to depart. +</p> + +<p> +“Bring him back, Rogers,” yelled the mate; “don’t let him go.” +</p> + +<p> +But the second officer, with a strange awesome look in his eyes, was leaning +back in his seat, tightly gripping the edge of the table in both hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come,” said the doctor, cheerily—“what’s this? You mustn’t be ill, +Rogers. I want you to nurse these other two.” +</p> + +<p> +The other rose slowly to his feet and eyed him with lack-lustre eyes. “Tell the +third officer to take charge,” he said, slowly; “and if he’s to be nurse as +well, he’s got his hands full.” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor sent the boy to apprise the third officer of his responsibilities, +and then stood watching the extraordinary and snakelike convolutions of Mr. +Mackenzie. +</p> + +<p> +“How much—did—ye say?” hissed the latter. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor people,” repeated the doctor, with relish, “five shillings a visit; very +poor people, half a crown.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll have half a crown’s worth,” moaned the miserable mate. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Mackenzie,” said a faint voice from the skipper’s cabin. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir?” yelled the mate, who was in torment. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t answer me like that, sir,” said the skipper, sharply. “Will you please +to remember that I’m ill, and can’t bear that horrible noise you’re making?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m—ill—too,” gasped the mate. +</p> + +<p> +“Ill? Nonsense!” said the skipper, severely. “We can’t both be ill. How about +the ship?” +</p> + +<p> +There was no reply, but from another cabin the voice of Mr. Rogers was heard +calling wildly for medical aid, and offering impossible sums in exchange for +it. The doctor went from cabin to cabin, and, first collecting his fees, +administered sundry potions to the sufferers; and then, in his capacity of +cook, went forward and made an unsavory mess he called gruel, which he insisted +upon their eating. +</p> + +<p> +Thanks to his skill, the invalids were freed from the more violent of their +pains, but this freedom was followed by a weakness so alarming that they could +hardly raise their heads from their pillows—a state of things which excited the +intense envy of the third officer, who, owing to his responsibilities, might +just as well have been without one. +</p> + +<p> +In this state of weakness, and with the fear of impending dissolution before +his eyes, the skipper sent for Mr. Harry Thomson, and after some comparisons +between lawyers and sharks, in which stress was laid upon certain redeeming +features of the latter, paid a guinea and made his will. His example, save in +the amount of the fee, was followed by the mate; but Mr. Rogers, being +approached tentatively by the doctor in his friend’s behalf, shook his head and +thanked his stars he had nothing to leave. He had enjoyed his money, he said. +</p> + +<p> +They mended slowly as they approached Hong-kong, though a fit of temper on Mr. +Mackenzie’s part, during which he threw out ominous hints about having his +money back, led to a regrettable relapse in his case. He was still in bed when +they came to anchor in the harbour; but the skipper and his second officer were +able to go above and exchange congratulations from adjoining deck-chairs. +</p> + +<p> +“You are sure it wasn’t cholera?” asked the harbour-master’s deputy, who had +boarded them in his launch, after he had heard the story. +</p> + +<p> +“Positive,” said Carson. +</p> + +<p> +“Very fortunate thing they had you on board,” said the deputy—“very fortunate.” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor bowed. +</p> + +<p> +“Seems so odd, the three of them being down with it,” said the other; “looks as +though it’s infectious, doesn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think so,” said the doctor, accepting with alacrity an offer to go +ashore in the launch and change into some decent clothes. “I think I know what +it was.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus09"></a> +<img src="images/009.jpg" width="440" height="467" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">The second officer leaned forward.</p> +</div> + +<p> +The captain of the <i>Stella</i> pricked up his ears, and the second officer +leaned forward with parted lips. Carson, accompanied by the deputy and the +solicitor, walked toward the launch. +</p> + +<p> +“What was it?” cried the skipper, anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“I think that you ate something that disagreed with you,” replied the doctor, +grinning meaningly. “Good-by, captain.” +</p> + +<p> +The master of the <i>Stella</i> made no reply, but rising feebly, tottered to +the side, and shook his fist at the launch as it headed for the shore. Doctor +Carson, who had had a pious upbringing, kissed his hand in return. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>A GOLDEN VENTURE</h2> + +<p> +The elders of the Tidger family sat at breakfast—Mrs. Tidger with knees wide +apart and the youngest Tidger nestling in the valley of print-dress which lay +between, and Mr. Tidger bearing on one moleskin knee a small copy of himself in +a red flannel frock and a slipper. The larger Tidger children took the solids +of their breakfast up and down the stone-flagged court outside, coming in +occasionally to gulp draughts of very weak tea from a gallipot or two which +stood on the table, and to wheedle Mr. Tidger out of any small piece of bloater +which he felt generous enough to bestow. +</p> + +<p> +“Peg away, Ann,” said Mr. Tidger, heartily. +</p> + +<p> +His wife’s elder sister shook her head, and passing the remains of her slice to +one of her small nephews, leaned back in her chair. “No appetite, Tidger,” she +said, slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“You should go in for carpentering,” said Mr. Tidger, in justification of the +huge crust he was carving into mouthfuls with his pocket-knife. “Seems to me I +can’t eat enough sometimes. Hullo, who’s the letter for?” +</p> + +<p> +He took it from the postman, who stood at the door amid a bevy of Tidgers who +had followed him up the court, and slowly read the address. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Mrs. Ann Pullen,’” he said, handing it over to his sister-in-law; “nice +writing, too.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pullen broke the envelope, and after a somewhat lengthy search for her +pocket, fumbled therein for her spectacles. She then searched the mantelpiece, +the chest of drawers, and the dresser, and finally ran them to earth on the +copper. +</p> + +<p> +She was not a good scholar, and it took her some time to read the letter, a +proceeding which she punctuated with such “Ohs” and “Ahs” and gaspings and “God +bless my souls” as nearly drove the carpenter and his wife, who were leaning +forward impatiently, to the verge of desperation. +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s it from?” asked Mr. Tidger for the third time. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” said Mrs. Pullen. “Good gracious, who ever would ha’ thought +it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Thought what, Ann?” demanded the carpenter, feverishly. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t people write their names plain?” demanded his sister-in-law, +impatiently. “It’s got a printed name up in the corner; perhaps that’s it. +Well, I never did—I don’t know whether I’m standing on my head or my heels.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re sitting down, that’s what you’re a-doing,” said the carpenter, +regarding her somewhat unfavourably. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps it’s a take-in,” said Mrs. Pullen, her lips trembling. “I’ve heard o’ +such things. If it is, I shall never get over it—never.” +</p> + +<p> +“Get—over—what?” asked the carpenter. +</p> + +<p> +“It don’t look like a take-in,” soliloquized Mrs. Pullen, “and I shouldn’t +think anybody’d go to all that trouble and spend a penny to take in a poor +thing like me.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Tidger, throwing politeness to the winds, leaped forward, and snatching the +letter from her, read it with feverish haste, tempered by a defective +education. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a take-in, Ann,” he said, his voice trembling; “it must be.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is?” asked Mrs. Tidger, impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +“Looks like it,” said Mrs. Pullen, feebly. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” screamed Mrs. Tidger, wrought beyond all endurance. +</p> + +<p> +Her husband turned and regarded her with much severity, but Mrs. Tidger’s gaze +was the stronger, and after a vain attempt to meet it, he handed her the +letter. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Tidger read it through hastily, and then snatching the baby from her lap, +held it out with both arms to her husband, and jumping up, kissed her sister +heartily, patting her on the back in her excitement until she coughed with the +pain of it. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t think it’s a take-in, Polly?” she inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Take-in?” said her sister; “of course it ain’t. Lawyers don’t play jokes; +their time’s too valuable. No, you’re an heiress all right, Ann, and I wish you +joy. I couldn’t be more pleased if it was myself.” +</p> + +<p> +She kissed her again, and going to pat her back once more, discovered that she +had sunk down sufficiently low in her chair to obtain the protection of its +back. +</p> + +<p> +“Two thousand pounds,” said Mrs. Pullen, in an awestruck voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Ten hundered pounds twice over,” said the carpenter, mouthing it slowly; +“twenty hundered pounds.” +</p> + +<p> +He got up from the table, and instinctively realizing that he could not do full +justice to his feelings with the baby in his arms, laid it on the teatray in a +puddle of cold tea and stood looking hard at the heiress. +</p> + +<p> +“I was housekeeper to her eleven years ago,” said Mrs. Pullen. “I wonder what +she left it to me for?” +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t know what to do with it, I should think,” said the carpenter, still +staring openmouthed. +</p> + +<p> +“Tidger, I’m ashamed of you,” said his wife, snatching her infant to her bosom. +“I expect you was very good to her, Ann.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never ’ad no luck,” said the impenitent carpenter. “Nobody ever left me no +money. Nobody ever left me so much as a fi-pun note.” +</p> + +<p> +He stared round disdainfully at his poor belongings, and drawing on his coat, +took his bag from a corner, and hoisting it on his shoulder, started to his +work. He scattered the news as he went, and it ran up and down the little main +street of Thatcham, and thence to the outlying lanes and cottages. Within a +couple of hours it was common property, and the fortunate legatee was presented +with a congratulatory address every time she ventured near the door. +</p> + +<p> +It is an old adage that money makes friends; the carpenter was surprised to +find that the mere fact of his having a moneyed relation had the same effect, +and that men to whom he had hitherto shown a certain amount of respect due to +their position now sought his company. They stood him beer at the “Bell,” and +walked by his side through the street. When they took to dropping in of an +evening to smoke a pipe the carpenter was radiant with happiness. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t seem to see beyond the end of your nose, Tidger,” said the wife of +his bosom after they had retired one evening. +</p> + +<p> +“H’m?” said the startled carpenter. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think old Miller, the dealer, comes here for?” demanded his wife. +</p> + +<p> +“Smoke his pipe,” replied her husband, confidently. +</p> + +<p> +“And old Wiggett?” persisted Mrs. Tidger. +</p> + +<p> +“Smoke <i>his</i> pipe,” was the reply. “Why, what’s the matter, Polly?” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Tidger sniffed derisively. “You men are all alike,” she snapped. “What do +you think Ann wears that pink bodice for?” +</p> + +<p> +“I never noticed she ’ad a pink bodice, Polly,” said the carpenter. +</p> + +<p> +“No? That’s what I say. You men never notice anything,” said his wife. “If you +don’t send them two old fools off, I will.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you like ’em to see Ann wearing pink?” inquired the mystified Tidger. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Tidger bit her lip and shook her head at him scornfully. “In plain +English, Tidger, as plain as I can speak it,”—she said, severely, “they’re +after Ann and ’er bit o’ money.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Tidger gazed at her open-mouthed, and taking advantage of that fact, blew +out the candle to hide his discomposure. “What!” he said, blankly, “at ’er time +o’ life?” +</p> + +<p> +“Watch ’em to-morrer,” said his wife. +</p> + +<p> +The carpenter acted upon his instructions, and his ire rose as he noticed the +assiduous attention paid by his two friends to the frivolous Mrs. Pullen. Mr. +Wiggett, a sharp-featured little man, was doing most of the talking, while his +rival, a stout, clean-shaven man with a slow, oxlike eye, looked on stolidly. +Mr. Miller was seldom in a hurry, and lost many a bargain through his +slowness—a fact which sometimes so painfully affected the individual who had +outdistanced him that he would offer to let him have it at a still lower +figure. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus10"></a> +<img src="images/010.jpg" width="508" height="513" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“You get younger than ever, Mrs. Pullen.”</p> +</div> + +<p> +“You get younger than ever, Mrs. Pullen,” said Wiggett, the conversation having +turned upon ages. +</p> + +<p> +“Young ain’t the word for it,” said Miller, with a praiseworthy determination +not to be left behind. +</p> + +<p> +“No; it’s age as you’re thinking of, Mr. Wiggett,” said the carpenter, slowly; +“none of us gets younger, do we, Ann?” +</p> + +<p> +“Some of us keeps young in our ways,” said Mrs. Pullen, somewhat shortly. +</p> + +<p> +“How old should you say Ann is now?” persisted the watchful Tidger. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Wiggett shook his head. “I should say she’s about fifteen years younger nor +me,” he said, slowly, “and I’m as lively as a cricket.” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s fifty-five,” said the carpenter. +</p> + +<p> +“That makes you seventy, Wiggett,” said Mr. Miller, pointedly. “I thought you +was more than that. You look it.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Wiggett coughed sourly. “I’m fifty-nine,” he growled. “Nothing’ll make me +believe as Mrs. Pullen’s fifty-five, nor anywhere near it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ho!” said the carpenter, on his mettle—“ho! Why, my wife here was the sixth +child, and she—- He caught a gleam in the sixth child’s eye, and expressed her +age with a cough. The others waited politely until he had finished, and Mr. +Tidger, noticing this, coughed again. +</p> + +<p> +“And she—” prompted Mr. Miller, displaying a polite interest. +</p> + +<p> +“She ain’t so young as she was,” said the carpenter. +</p> + +<p> +“Cares of a family,” said Mr. Wiggett, plumping boldly. “I always thought Mrs. +Pullen was younger than her.” +</p> + +<p> +“So did I,” said Mr. Miller, “much younger.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Wiggett eyed him sharply. It was rather hard to have Miller hiding his lack +of invention by participating in his compliments and even improving upon them. +It was the way he dealt at market-listening to other dealers’ accounts of their +wares, and adding to them for his own. +</p> + +<p> +“I was noticing you the other day, ma’am,” continued Mr. Wiggett. “I see you +going up the road with a step free and easy as a young girl’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“She allus walks like that,” said Mr. Miller, in a tone of surprised reproof. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s in the family,” said the carpenter, who had been uneasily watching his +wife’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“Both of you seem to notice a lot,” said Mrs. Tidger; “much more than you used +to.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Tidger, who was of a nervous and sensitive disposition, coughed again. +</p> + +<p> +“You ought to take something for that cough,” said Mr. Wiggett, considerately. +</p> + +<p> +“Gin and beer,” said Mr. Miller, with the air of a specialist. +</p> + +<p> +“Bed’s the best thing for it,” said Mrs. Tidger, whose temper was beginning to +show signs of getting out of hand. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Tidger rose and looked awkwardly at his visitors; Mr. Wiggett got up, and +pretending to notice the time, said he must be going, and looked at Mr. Miller. +That gentleman, who was apparently deep in some knotty problem, was gazing at +the floor, and oblivious for the time to his surroundings. +</p> + +<p> +“Come along,” said Wiggett, with feigned heartiness, slapping him on the back. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Miller, looking for a moment as though he would like to return the +compliment, came back to everyday life, and bidding the company good-night, +stepped to the door, accompanied by his rival. It was immediately shut with +some violence. +</p> + +<p> +“They seem in a hurry,” said Wiggett. “I don’t think I shall go there again.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I shall,” said Mr. Miller. +</p> + +<p> +After this neither of them was surprised to meet there again the next night, +and indeed for several nights. The carpenter and his wife, who did not want the +money to go out of the family, and were also afraid of offending Mrs. Pullen, +were at their wits’ end what to do. Ultimately it was resolved that Tidger, in +as delicate a manner as possible, was to hint to her that they were after her +money. He was so vague and so delicate that Mrs. Pullen misunderstood him, and +fancying that he was trying to borrow half a crown, made him a present of five +shillings. +</p> + +<p> +It was evident to the slower-going Mr. Miller that his rival’s tongue was +giving him an advantage which only the ever-watchful presence of the carpenter +and his wife prevented him from pushing to the fullest advantage. In these +circumstances he sat for two hours after breakfast one morning in deep +cogitation, and after six pipes got up with a twinkle in his slow eyes which +his brother dealers had got to regard as a danger signal. +</p> + +<p> +He had only the glimmering of an idea at first, but after a couple of pints at +the “Bell” everything took shape, and he cast his eyes about for an assistant. +They fell upon a man named Smith, and the dealer, after some thought, took up +his glass and went over to him. +</p> + +<p> +“I want you to do something for me,” he remarked, in a mysterious voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, I’ve been wanting to see you,” said Smith, who was also a dealer in a +small way. “One o’ them hins I bought off you last week is dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll give you another for it,” said Miller. +</p> + +<p> +“And the others are so forgetful,” continued Mr. Smith. +</p> + +<p> +“Forgetful?” repeated the other. +</p> + +<p> +“Forget to lay, like,” said Mr. Smith, musingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind about them,” said Mr. Miller, with some animation. “I want you to +do something for me. If it comes off all right, I’ll give you a dozen hins and +a couple of decentish-sized pigs.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Smith called a halt. “Decentish-sized” was vague. +</p> + +<p> +“Take your pick,” said Mr. Miller. “You know Mrs. Pullen’s got two thousand +pounds—” +</p> + +<p> +“Wiggett’s going to have it,” said the other; “he as good as told me so.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s after her money,” said the other, sadly. “Look ’ere, Smith, I want you to +tell him she’s lost it all. Say that Tidger told you, but you wasn’t to tell +anybody else. Wiggett’ll believe you.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Smith turned upon him a face all wrinkles, lit by one eye. “I want the hins +and the pigs first,” he said, firmly. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Miller, shocked at his grasping spirit, stared at him mournfully. +</p> + +<p> +“And twenty pounds the day you marry Mrs. Pullen,” continued Mr. Smith. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Miller, leading him up and down the sawdust floor, besought him to listen +to reason, and Mr. Smith allowed the better feelings of our common human nature +to prevail to the extent of reducing his demands to half a dozen fowls on +account, and all the rest on the day of the marriage. Then, with the delightful +feeling that he wouldn’t do any work for a week, he went out to drop poison +into the ears of Mr. Wiggett. +</p> + +<p> +“Lost all her money!” said the startled Mr. Wiggett. “How?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know how,” said his friend. “Tidger told me, but made me promise not +to tell a soul. But I couldn’t help telling you, Wiggett, ’cause I know what +you’re after.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do me a favour,” said the little man. +</p> + +<p> +“I will,” said the other. +</p> + +<p> +“Keep it from Miller as long as possible. If you hear any one else talking of +it, tell ’em to keep it from him. If he marries her I’ll give you a couple of +pints.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Smith promised faithfully, and both the Tidgers and Mrs. Pullen were +surprised to find that Mr. Miller was the only visitor that evening. He spoke +but little, and that little in a slow, ponderous voice intended for Mrs. +Pullen’s ear alone. He spoke disparagingly of money, and shook his head slowly +at the temptations it brought in its train. Give him a crust, he said, and +somebody to halve it with—a home-made crust baked by a wife. It was a pretty +picture, but somewhat spoiled by Mrs. Tidger suggesting that, though he had +spoken of halving the crust, he had said nothing about the beer. +</p> + +<p> +“Half of my beer wouldn’t be much,” said the dealer, slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“Not the half you would give your wife wouldn’t,” retorted Mrs. Tidger. +</p> + +<p> +The dealer sighed and looked mournfully at Mrs. Pullen. The lady sighed in +return, and finding that her admirer’s stock of conversation seemed to be +exhausted, coyly suggested a game of draughts. The dealer assented with +eagerness, and declining the offer of a glass of beer by explaining that he had +had one the day before yesterday, sat down and lost seven games right off. He +gave up at the seventh game, and pushing back his chair, said that he thought +Mrs. Pullen was the most wonderful draught-player he had ever seen, and took no +notice when Mrs. Tidger, in a dry voice charged with subtle meaning, said that +she thought he was. +</p> + +<p> +“Draughts come natural to some people,” said Mrs. Pullen, modestly. “It’s as +easy as kissing your fingers.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Miller looked doubtful; then he put his great fingers to his lips by way of +experiment, and let them fall unmistakably in the widow’s direction. Mrs. +Pullen looked down and nearly blushed. The carpenter and his wife eyed each +other in indignant consternation. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s easy enough,” said the dealer, and repeated the offense. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pullen got up in some confusion, and began to put the draught-board away. +One of the pieces fell on the floor, and as they both stooped to recover it +their heads bumped. It was nothing to the dealer’s, but Mrs. Pullen rubbed hers +and sat down with her eyes watering. Mr. Miller took out his handkerchief, and +going to the scullery, dipped it into water and held it to her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it better?” he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“A little better,” said the victim, with a shiver. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Miller, in his emotion, was squeezing the handkerchief hard, and a cold +stream was running down her neck. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you. It’s all right now.” +</p> + +<p> +The dealer replaced the handkerchief, and sat for some time regarding her +earnestly. Then the carpenter and his wife displaying manifest signs of +impatience, he took his departure, after first inviting himself for another +game of draughts the following night. +</p> + +<p> +He walked home with the air of a conqueror, and thought exultingly that the two +thousand pounds were his. It was a deal after his own heart, and not the least +satisfactory part about it was the way he had got the better of Wiggett. +</p> + +<p> +He completed his scheme the following day after a short interview with the +useful Smith. By the afternoon Wiggett found that his exclusive information was +common property, and all Thatcham was marvelling at the fortitude with which +Mrs. Pullen was bearing the loss of her fortune. With a view of being out of +the way when the denial was published, Mr. Miller, after loudly expressing in +public his sympathy for Mrs. Pullen and his admiration of her qualities, drove +over with some pigs to a neighbouring village, returning to Thatcham in the +early evening. Then hurriedly putting his horse up he made his way to the +carpenter’s. +</p> + +<p> +The Tidgers were at home when he entered, and Mrs. Pullen flushed faintly as he +shook hands. +</p> + +<p> +“I was coming in before,” he said, impressively, “after what I heard this +afternoon, but I had to drive over to Thorpe.” +</p> + +<p> +“You ’eard it?” inquired the carpenter, in an incredulous voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” said the dealer, “and very sorry I was. Sorry for one thing, but +glad for another.” +</p> + +<p> +The carpenter opened his mouth and seemed about to speak. Then he checked +himself suddenly and gazed with interest at the ingenuous dealer. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad,” said Mr. Miller, slowly, as he nodded at a friend of Mrs. Tidger’s +who had just come in with a long face, “because now that Mrs. Pullen is poor, I +can say to her what I couldn’t say while she was rich.” +</p> + +<p> +Again the astonished carpenter was about to speak, but the dealer hastily +checked him with his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“One at a time,” he said. “Mrs. Pullen, I was very sorry to hear this +afternoon, for your sake, that you had lost all your money. What I wanted to +say to you now, now that you are poor, was to ask you to be Mrs. Miller. What +d’ye say?” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pullen, touched at so much goodness, wept softly and said, “Yes.” The +triumphant Miller took out his handkerchief—the same that he had used the +previous night, for he was not an extravagant man—and tenderly wiped her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m blowed!” said the staring carpenter. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got a nice little ’ouse,” continued the wily Mr. Miller. “It’s a poor +place, but nice, and we’ll play draughts every evening. When shall it be?” +</p> + +<p> +“When you like,” said Mrs. Pullen, in a faint voice. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll put the banns up to-morrow,” said the dealer. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Tidger’s lady friend giggled at so much haste, but Mrs. Tidger, who felt +that she had misjudged him, was touched. +</p> + +<p> +“It does you credit, Mr. Miller,” she said, warmly. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” said the dealer; and then Mr. Tidger got up, and crossing the room, +solemnly shook hands with him. +</p> + +<p> +“Money or no money, she’ll make a good wife,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad you’re pleased,” said the dealer, wondering at this cordiality. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t deny I thought you was after her money,” continued the carpenter, +solemnly. “My missus thought so, too.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Miller shook his head, and said he thought they would have known him +better. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course it is a great loss,” said the carpenter. “Money is money.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all it is, though,” said the slightly mystified Mr. Miller. +</p> + +<p> +“What I can’t understand is,” continued the carpenter, “’ow the news got about. +Why, the neighbours knew of it a couple of hours before we did.” +</p> + +<p> +The dealer hid a grin. Then he looked a bit bewildered again. +</p> + +<p> +“I assure you,” said the carpenter, “it was known in the town at least a couple +of hours before we got the letter.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Miller waited a minute to get perfect control over his features. “Letter?” +he repeated, faintly. +</p> + +<p> +“The letter from the lawyers,” said the carpenter. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Miller was silent again. His features were getting tiresome. He eyed the +door furtively. +</p> + +<p> +“What-was-in-the letter?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Short and sweet,” said the carpenter, with bitterness. “Said it was all a +mistake, because they’d been and found another will. People shouldn’t make such +mistakes.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’re all liable to make mistakes,” said Miller, thinking he saw an opening. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, we made a mistake when we thought you was after Ann’s money,” assented +the carpenter. “I’m sure I thought you’d be the last man in the world to be +pleased to hear that she’d lost it. One thing is, you’ve got enough for both.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Miller made no reply, but in a dazed way strove to realize the full measure +of the misfortune which had befallen him. The neighbour, with the anxiety of +her sex to be the first with a bit of news, had already taken her departure. He +thought of Wiggett walking the earth a free man, and of Smith with a +three-months’ bill for twenty pounds. His pride as a dealer was shattered +beyond repair, and emerging from a species of mist, he became conscious that +the carpenter was addressing him. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus11"></a> +<img src="images/011.jpg" width="411" height="650" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“We’ll leave you two young things alone.”</p> +</div> + +<p> +“We’ll leave you two young things alone for a bit,” said Mr. Tidger, heartily. +“We’re going out. When you’re tired o’ courting you can play draughts, and Ann +will show you one or two of ’er moves. So long.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>THREE AT TABLE</h2> + +<p> +The talk in the coffee-room had been of ghosts and apparitions, and nearly +everybody present had contributed his mite to the stock of information upon a +hazy and somewhat thread-bare subject. Opinions ranged from rank incredulity to +childlike faith, one believer going so far as to denounce unbelief as impious, +with a reference to the Witch of Endor, which was somewhat marred by being +complicated in an inexplicable fashion with the story of Jonah. +</p> + +<p> +“Talking of Jonah,” he said solemnly, with a happy disregard of the fact that +he had declined to answer several eager questions put to him on the subject, +“look at the strange tales sailors tell us.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t advise you to believe all those,” said a bluff, clean-shaven man, +who had been listening without speaking much. “You see when a sailor gets +ashore he’s expected to have something to tell, and his friends would be rather +disappointed if he had not.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a well-known fact,” interrupted the first speaker firmly, “that sailors +are very prone to see visions.” +</p> + +<p> +“They are,” said the other dryly, “they generally see them in pairs, and the +shock to the nervous system frequently causes headache next morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“You never saw anything yourself?” suggested an unbeliever. +</p> + +<p> +“Man and boy,” said the other, “I’ve been at sea thirty years, and the only +unpleasant incident of that kind occurred in a quiet English countryside.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that?” said another man. +</p> + +<p> +“I was a young man at the time,” said the narrator, drawing at his pipe and +glancing good-humouredly at the company. “I had just come back from China, and +my own people being away I went down into the country to invite myself to stay +with an uncle. When I got down to the place I found it closed and the family in +the South of France; but as they were due back in a couple of days I decided to +put up at the Royal George, a very decent inn, and await their return. +</p> + +<p> +“The first day I passed well enough; but in the evening the dulness of the +rambling old place, in which I was the only visitor, began to weigh upon my +spirits, and the next morning after a late breakfast I set out with the +intention of having a brisk day’s walk. +</p> + +<p> +“I started off in excellent spirits, for the day was bright and frosty, with a +powdering of snow on the iron-bound roads and nipped hedges, and the country +had to me all the charm of novelty. It was certainly flat, but there was plenty +of timber, and the villages through which I passed were old and picturesque. +</p> + +<p> +“I lunched luxuriously on bread and cheese and beer in the bar of a small inn, +and resolved to go a little further before turning back. When at length I found +I had gone far enough, I turned up a lane at right angles to the road I was +passing, and resolved to find my way back by another route. It is a long lane +that has no turning, but this had several, each of which had turnings of its +own, which generally led, as I found by trying two or three of them, into the +open marshes. Then, tired of lanes, I resolved to rely upon the small compass +which hung from my watch chain and go across country home. +</p> + +<p> +“I had got well into the marshes when a white fog, which had been for some time +hovering round the edge of the ditches, began gradually to spread. There was no +escaping it, but by aid of my compass I was saved from making a circular tour +and fell instead into frozen ditches or stumbled over roots in the grass. I +kept my course, however, until at four o’clock, when night was coming rapidly +up to lend a hand to the fog, I was fain to confess myself lost. +</p> + +<p> +“The compass was now no good to me, and I wandered about miserably, +occasionally giving a shout on the chance of being heard by some passing +shepherd or farmhand. At length by great good luck I found my feet on a rough +road driven through the marshes, and by walking slowly and tapping with my +stick managed to keep to it. I had followed it for some distance when I heard +footsteps approaching me. +</p> + +<p> +“We stopped as we met, and the new arrival, a sturdy-looking countryman, +hearing of my plight, walked back with me for nearly a mile, and putting me on +to a road gave me minute instructions how to reach a village some three miles +distant. +</p> + +<p> +“I was so tired that three miles sounded like ten, and besides that, a little +way off from the road I saw dimly a lighted window. I pointed it out, but my +companion shuddered and looked round him uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +“‘You won’t get no good there,’ he said, hastily. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Why not?’ I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“‘There’s a something there, sir,’ he replied, ‘what ’tis I dunno, but the +little ’un belonging to a gamekeeper as used to live in these parts see it, and +it was never much good afterward. Some say as it’s a poor mad thing, others +says as it’s a kind of animal; but whatever it is, it ain’t good to see.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Well, I’ll keep on, then,’ I said. ‘Goodnight.’ +</p> + +<p> +“He went back whistling cheerily until his footsteps died away in the distance, +and I followed the road he had indicated until it divided into three, any one +of which to a stranger might be said to lead straight on. I was now cold and +tired, and having half made up my mind walked slowly back toward the house. +</p> + +<p> +“At first all I could see of it was the little patch of light at the window. I +made for that until it disappeared suddenly, and I found myself walking into a +tall hedge. I felt my way round this until I came to a small gate, and opening +it cautiously, walked, not without some little nervousness, up a long path +which led to the door. There was no light and no sound from within. Half +repenting of my temerity I shortened my stick and knocked lightly upon the +door. +</p> + +<p> +“I waited a couple of minutes and then knocked again, and my stick was still +beating the door when it opened suddenly and a tall bony old woman, holding a +candle, confronted me. +</p> + +<p> +“‘What do you want?’ she demanded gruffly. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I’ve lost my way,’ I said, civilly; ‘I want to get to Ashville.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Don’t know it,’ said the old woman. +</p> + +<p> +“She was about to close the door when a man emerged from a room at the side of +the hall and came toward us. An old man of great height and breadth of +shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Ashville is fifteen miles distant,’ he said slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“‘If you will direct me to the nearest village, I shall be grateful,’ I +remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“He made no reply, but exchanged a quick, furtive glance with the woman. She +made a gesture of dissent. +</p> + +<p> +“‘The nearest place is three miles off,’ he said, turning to me and apparently +trying to soften a naturally harsh voice; ‘if you will give me the pleasure of +your company, I will make you as comfortable as I can.’ +</p> + +<p> +“I hesitated. They were certainly a queer-looking couple, and the gloomy hall +with the shadows thrown by the candle looked hardly more inviting than the +darkness outside. +</p> + +<p> +“‘You are very kind,’ I murmured, irresolutely, ‘but—’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Come in,’ he said quickly; ‘shut the door, Anne.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Almost before I knew it I was standing inside and the old woman, muttering to +herself, had closed the door behind me. With a queer sensation of being trapped +I followed my host into the room, and taking the proffered chair warmed my +frozen fingers at the fire. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Dinner will soon be ready,’ said the old man, regarding me closely. ‘If you +will excuse me.’ +</p> + +<p> +“I bowed and he left the room. A minute afterward I heard voices; his and the +old woman’s, and, I fancied, a third. Before I had finished my inspection of +the room he returned, and regarded me with the same strange look I had noticed +before. +</p> + +<p> +“‘There will be three of us at dinner,’ he said, at length. ‘We two and my +son.’ +</p> + +<p> +“I bowed again, and secretly hoped that that look didn’t run in the family. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I suppose you don’t mind dining in the dark,’ he said, abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Not at all,’ I replied, hiding my surprise as well as I could, ‘but really +I’m afraid I’m intruding. If you’ll allow me—’ +</p> + +<p> +“He waved his huge gaunt hands. ‘We’re not going to lose you now we’ve got +you,’ he said, with a dry laugh. ‘It’s seldom we have company, and now we’ve +got you we’ll keep you. My son’s eyes are bad, and he can’t stand the light. +Ah, here is Anne.’ +</p> + +<p> +“As he spoke the old woman entered, and, eyeing me stealthily, began to lay the +cloth, while my host, taking a chair the other side of the hearth, sat looking +silently into the fire. The table set, the old woman brought in a pair of fowls +ready carved in a dish, and placing three chairs, left the room. The old man +hesitated a moment, and then, rising from his chair, placed a large screen in +front of the fire and slowly extinguished the candles. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Blind man’s holiday,’ he said, with clumsy jocosity, and groping his way to +the door opened it. Somebody came back into the room with him, and in a slow, +uncertain fashion took a seat at the table, and the strangest voice I have ever +heard broke a silence which was fast becoming oppressive. +</p> + +<p> +“‘A cold night,’ it said slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“I replied in the affirmative, and light or no light, fell to with an appetite +which had only been sharpened by the snack in the middle of the day. It was +somewhat difficult eating in the dark, and it was evident from the behaviour of +my invisible companions that they were as unused to dining under such +circumstances as I was. We ate in silence until the old woman blundered into +the room with some sweets and put them with a crash upon the table. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Are you a stranger about here?’ inquired the curious voice again. +</p> + +<p> +“I replied in the affirmative, and murmured something about my luck in +stumbling upon such a good dinner. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Stumbling is a very good word for it,’ said the voice grimly. ‘You have +forgotten the port, father.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘So I have,’ said the old man, rising. ‘It’s a bottle of the “Celebrated” +to-day; I will get it myself.’ +</p> + +<p> +“He felt his way to the door, and closing it behind him, left me alone with my +unseen neighbour. There was something so strange about the whole business that +I must confess to more than a slight feeling of uneasiness. +</p> + +<p> +“My host seemed to be absent a long time. I heard the man opposite lay down his +fork and spoon, and half fancied I could see a pair of wild eyes shining +through the gloom like a cat’s. +</p> + +<p> +“With a growing sense of uneasiness I pushed my chair back. It caught the +hearthrug, and in my efforts to disentangle it the screen fell over with a +crash and in the flickering light of the fire I saw the face of the creature +opposite. With a sharp catch of my breath I left my chair and stood with +clenched fists beside it. Man or beast, which was it? The flame leaped up and +then went out, and in the mere red glow of the fire it looked more devilish +than before. +</p> + +<p> +“For a few moments we regarded each other in silence; then the door opened and +the old man returned. He stood aghast as he saw the warm firelight, and then +approaching the table mechanically put down a couple of bottles. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I beg your pardon,’ said I, reassured by his presence, ‘but I have +accidentally overturned the screen. Allow me to replace it.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘No,’ said the old man, gently, ‘let it be. +</p> + +<p> +“‘We have had enough of the dark. I’ll give you a light.’ +</p> + +<p> +“He struck a match and slowly lit the candles. Then—I saw that the man opposite +had but the remnant of a face, a gaunt wolfish face in which one unquenched +eye, the sole remaining feature, still glittered. I was greatly moved, some +suspicion of the truth occurring to me. +</p> + +<p> +“‘My son was injured some years ago in a burning house,’ said the old man. +‘Since then we have lived a very retired life. When you came to the door we—’ +his voice trembled, ‘that is-my son—’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘I thought,” said the son simply, ‘that it would be better for me not to come +to the dinner-table. But it happens to be my birthday, and my father would not +hear of my dining alone, so we hit upon this foolish plan of dining in the +dark. I’m sorry I startled you.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘I am sorry,’ said I, as I reached across the table and gripped his hand, +‘that I am such a fool; but it was only in the dark that you startled me.’ +</p> + +<p> +“From a faint tinge in the old man’s cheek and a certain pleasant softening of +the poor solitary eye in front of me I secretly congratulated myself upon this +last remark. +</p> + +<p> +“‘We never see a friend,’ said the old man, apologetically, ‘and the temptation +to have company was too much for us. Besides, I don’t know what else you could +have done.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Nothing else half so good, I’m sure,’ said I. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Come,’ said my host, with almost a sprightly air. ‘Now we know each other, +draw our chairs to the fire and let’s keep this birthday in a proper fashion.’ +</p> + +<p> +“He drew a small table to the fire for the glasses and produced a box of +cigars, and placing a chair for the old servant, sternly bade her to sit down +and drink. If the talk was not sparkling, it did not lack for vivacity, and we +were soon as merry a party as I have ever seen. The night wore on so rapidly +that we could hardly believe our ears when in a lull in the conversation a +clock in the hall struck twelve. +</p> + +<p> +“‘A last toast before we retire,’ said my host, pitching the end of his cigar +into the fire and turning to the small table. +</p> + +<p> +“We had drunk several before this, but there was something impressive in the +old man’s manner as he rose and took up his glass. His tall figure seemed to +get taller, and his voice rang as he gazed proudly at his disfigured son. +</p> + +<p> +“‘The health of the children my boy saved!’ he said, and drained his glass at a +draught.” +</p> + +<p class="center"> + +THE END. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12133 ***</div> +</body> + +</html> + |