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diff --git a/42902-8.txt b/42902-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 01ab380..0000000 --- a/42902-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11039 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Young Blood, by E. W. Hornung - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Young Blood - -Author: E. W. Hornung - -Release Date: June 9, 2013 [EBook #42902] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOUNG BLOOD *** - - - - -Produced by Suzanne Shell and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) - - - - - - - _BY THE SAME AUTHOR._ - - A BRIDE FROM THE BUSH. - UNDER TWO SKIES. - TINY LUTTRELL. - THE BOSS OF TAROOMBA. - THE UNBIDDEN GUEST. - THE ROGUE'S MARCH. - IRRALIE'S BUSHRANGER. - MY LORD DUKE. - - - - -YOUNG BLOOD - - -BY - -E. W. HORNUNG - - - "_When all the world is young, lad, - And all the trees are green; - And every goose a swan, lad, - And every lass a queen; - Then hey for boot and horse, lad, - And round the world away; - Young blood must have its course, lad, - And every dog his day._" - - THE WATER BABIES. - - -CASSELL AND COMPANY, LIMITED -_LONDON, PARIS & MELBOURNE_ -1898 -ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - - - - -CONTENTS. - - PAGE - -CHAPTER I. - -THE OLD HOME 1 - - -CHAPTER II. - -THE BREAKING OF THE NEWS 11 - - -CHAPTER III. - -THE SIN OF THE FATHER 20 - - -CHAPTER IV. - -THE NEW HOME 32 - - -CHAPTER V. - -A WET BLANKET 40 - - -CHAPTER VI. - -THE GAME OF BLUFF 57 - - -CHAPTER VII. - -ON RICHMOND HILL 71 - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -A MILLIONAIRE IN THE MAKING 85 - - -CHAPTER IX. - -THE CITY OF LONDON 95 - - -CHAPTER X. - -A FIRST OFFENCE 111 - - -CHAPTER XI. - -BEGGAR AND CHOOSER 122 - - -CHAPTER XII. - -THE CHAMPION OF THE GODS 135 - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -THE DAY OF BATTLE 150 - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -A CHANGE OF LUCK 165 - - -CHAPTER XV. - -IT NEVER RAINS BUT IT POURS 175 - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -A DAME'S SCHOOL 183 - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -AT FAULT 195 - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -MR. SCRAFTON 203 - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -ASSAULT AND BATTERY 214 - - -CHAPTER XX. - -BIDING HIS TIME 226 - - -CHAPTER XXI. - -HAND TO HAND 234 - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -MAN TO MAN 247 - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - -THE END OF THE BEGINNING 259 - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - -YOUNG INK 276 - - -CHAPTER XXV. - -SCRAFTON'S STORY 287 - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - -A MASTERSTROKE 304 - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - -RESTITUTION 315 - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - -A TALE APART 326 - - - - -Transcriber's Note: Minor typographical errors have been corrected -without note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have been -retained as printed. The cover of this ebook was created by the -transcriber and is hereby placed in the public domain. - - - - -Young Blood. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -THE OLD HOME. - - -Harry Ringrose came of age on the happiest morning of his life. He was -on dry land at last, and flying north at fifty miles an hour instead of -at some insignificant and yet precarious number of knots. He would be -at home to eat his birthday breakfast after all; and half the night he -sat awake in a long ecstasy of grateful retrospect and delicious -anticipation, as one by one the familiar stations were hailed and left -behind, each an older friend than the last, and each a deadlier enemy -to sleep. Worn out by excitement, however, he lay down for a minute -between Crewe and Warrington, and knew no more until the guard came to -him at the little junction across the Westmoreland border. Harry -started up, the early sun in his sleepy eyes, and for an instant the -first-class smoking-compartment was his state-room aboard the ship -_Sobraon_, and the guard one of his good friends the officers. Then -with a rush of exquisite joy the glorious truth came home to him, and -he was up and out that instant--the happiest and the luckiest young -rascal in the land. - -It was the 19th of May, and a morning worthy the month and the -occasion. The sun had risen in a flawless sky, and the dear old English -birds were singing on all sides of the narrow platform, as Harry -Ringrose stretched his spindle-legs upon it and saw his baggage out of -the long lithe express and into the little clumsy local which was to -carry him home. The youth was thin and tall, yet not ungainly, with a -thatch of very black hair, but none upon his sun-burnt face. He was -shabbily dressed, his boots were down at heel and toe, there were -buttons missing from his old tweed coat, and he wore a celluloid collar -with his flannel shirt. On the other hand, he was travelling -first-class, and the literary supplies tucked under his arm had cost -the extravagant fellow several shillings at Euston book-stall. Yet he -had very little money in his pocket. He took it all out to count. It -amounted to five shillings and sixpence exactly, of which he gave -half-a-crown to the guard for waking him, and a shilling to a porter -here at the junction, before continuing his journey in the little -train. This left him a florin, and that florin was all the money he -possessed in the world. - -He was, however, the only child of a father who would give him as much -as he wanted, and, what was rarer, of one with sufficient sense of -humour to appreciate the prodigal's return without a penny in his -pocket or a decent garment on his back. Whether his people would be -equally pleased at being taken completely by surprise was not quite so -certain. They might say he ought to have let them know what ship he was -coming by, or at least have sent a telegram on landing. Yet all along -he had undertaken to be home for his twenty-first birthday, and it -would only have made them anxious to know that he had trusted himself -to a sailing-vessel. Fifty days instead of twenty from the Cape! It had -nearly cost him his word; but, now that it was over, the narrow margin -made the joke all the greater; and Harry Ringrose loved a joke better -than most things in the world. - -The last two years of his life had been a joke from beginning to end: -for in the name of health he had been really seeking adventure and -undergoing the most unnecessary hardships for the fun of talking about -them for the rest of his days. He pictured the first dinner-party after -his return, and the faces of some dozen old friends when they heard of -the leopards under the house, the lion in the moonlight, and (when the -ladies had withdrawn) of the notorious murderer with whom Harry had -often dined. They should perceive that the schoolboy they remembered -was no longer anything of the sort, but a man of the world who had seen -more of it than themselves. It is true that for a man of the world -Harry Ringrose was still somewhat youthfully taken up with himself and -his experiences; but his heart was rich with love of those to whom he -was returning, and his mind much too simple to be aware of its own -egotism. He only knew that he was getting nearer and nearer home, and -that the joy of it was almost unendurable. - -His face was to the carriage window, his native air streamed down his -throat and blew a white lane through his long black hair. Miles of -green dales rushed past under a network of stone walls, to change soon -to mines and quarries, which in their turn developed into furnaces and -works, until all at once the sky was no longer blue and the land no -longer green. And when Harry Ringrose looked out of the opposite -window, it was across grimy dunes that stretched to a breakwater built -of slag, with a discoloured sea beyond. - -The boy rolled up his rug and changed his cap for a villainous sombrero -preserved for the occasion. He then made a selection from his lavish -supply of periodical literature, and when he next looked out the train -was running in the very shadow of some furnaces in full blast. The -morning sun looked cool and pale behind their monstrous fires, and -Harry took off the sombrero to his father's ironworks, though with a -rather grim eye, which saw the illuminated squalor of the scene without -appreciating its prosperity. Sulphurous flames issued from all four -furnaces; at one of the four they were casting as the train passed, and -the molten incandescent stream ran white as the wire of an electric -light. - -After the works came rank upon rank of workmen's streets running right -and left of the line; then the ancient and historic quarter of the -town, with its granite houses and its hilly streets, all much as it had -been a hundred years before the discovery of iron-stone enriched and -polluted a fair countryside. Then the level-crossing, without a -creature at the gates at such an hour; finally a blank drab platform -with the long loose figure of the head-porter standing out upon it as -the homeliest sight of all. Harry clapped him on the cap as the train -drew up; but either the man had forgotten him, or he was offended, for -he came forward without a smile. - -"Well, David, how are you? Your hand, man, your hand! I'm back from the -wilds. Don't you know me?" - -"I do now, sir." - -"That's right! It does me good to see an old face like yours. Gently -with this green box, David, it's full of ostrich-eggs, that's why I had -it in the carriage. There's four more in the van; inspan the lot till -we send in for them, will you? I mean to walk up myself. Come, gently, -I say!" - -The porter had dropped the green box clumsily, and now sought to cover -his confusion by saying that the sight of Master Harry, that altered, -had taken him all aback. Young Ringrose was justly annoyed; he had -taken such care of that green box for so many weeks. But he did not -withhold the florin, which was being pocketed for a penny when the man -saw what it was and handed it back. - -"What, not enough for you?" cried Harry. - -"No, sir, too much." - -The boy stared and laughed. - -"Don't be an ass, David; I don't come home from Africa every day! If -you'd been with me you'd think yourself lucky to get home at all! You -just inspan those boxes, and we'll send for them after breakfast." - -The man mumbled that it was not worth two shillings. Harry said that -was his business. The porter hung his head. - -"I--I may have broken them eggs." - -"Oh, well, if you have, two bob won't mend 'em; cling on to it, man, -and don't drop them again." - -The loose-limbed porter turned away with the coin, but without a word, -while Harry went off in high good-humour, though a little puzzled by -the man's manner. It was not a time to think twice of trifles, however, -and, at all events, he had achieved the sportsmanlike feat of emptying -his pockets of their last coin. He strode out of the station with a -merry, ringing tread. Half the town heard him as he went whistling -through the streets and on to the outlying roads. - -The one he took was uphill and countrified. High hedgerows bloomed on -either hand, and yet you could hear the sea, and sometimes see it, and -on this side of the town it was blue and beautiful. Our wayfarer met -but one other, a youth of his own age, with whom he had played and -fought since infancy, though the families had never been intimate. -Harry halted and held out his hand, which was ignored, the other -passing with his nose in the air, and a tin can swinging at his side, -on his way to some of the works. Harry coloured up and said a hard word -softly. Then he remembered how slow his old friend the porter had been -to recognise him; and he began to think he must have grown up out of -knowledge. Besides accounting for what would otherwise have been an -inexplicable affront, the thought pleased and flattered him. He strode -on serenely as before, sniffing the Irish Sea at every step. - -He passed little lodges and great gates with never a glance at the fine -houses within: for to Harry Ringrose this May morning there were but -one house and one garden in all England. To get to them he broke at -last into a run, and only stopped when the crest of the hill brought -him, breathless, within sight of both. There was the long front wall, -with the gates at one end, the stables at the other, and the fresh -leaves bulging over every intervening brick. And down the hill, behind -the trees, against the sea, were the windows, the gables, the chimneys, -that he had been dreaming of for two long years. - -His eyes filled with a sudden rush of tears. "Thank God!" he muttered -brokenly, and stood panting in the road, with bowed bare head and -twitching lips. He could not have believed that the mere sight of home -would so move him. He advanced in an altered spirit, a sense of his own -unworthiness humbling him, a hymn of thanksgiving in his heart. - -And now the very stones were eloquent, and every yard marked by some -landmark forgotten for two years, and yet familiar as ever at the first -glance. Here was the mark a drunken cabman had left on the gatepost in -Harry's school-days; there the disused summerhouse with the window -still broken by which Harry had escaped when locked in by the very -youth who had just cut him on the road. The drive struck him as a -little more overgrown. The trees were greener than he had ever known -them, the bank of rhododendrons a mass of pink without precedent in his -recollection; but then it was many years since Harry had seen the place -so late in May, for he had gone out to Africa straight from school. - -As for the dear house, the creepers had spread upon the ruddy stone and -the tiles had mellowed, but otherwise there seemed to be no change. It -would look its old self when the blinds were up: meantime Harry fixed -his eyes upon those behind which his parents would still be fast -asleep, and he wondered, idly at first, why they had given up sleeping -with a window open. It had been their practice all the year round; and -the house had been an early-rising house; yet not a fire was -lighted--not a chimney smoking--not a window open--not a blind -drawn--though close upon seven o'clock by the silver watch that had -been with Harry through all his adventures. - -His hand shook as he put the watch back in his pocket. The possibility -of his parents being away--of his surprise recoiling upon himself--had -never occurred to him until now. How could they be away? They never -dreamt of going away before the autumn. Besides, he had told them he -was coming home in time to keep his birthday. They were not away--they -were not--they were not! - -Yet there he stood--in the sweep of the drive--but a few yards from the -steps--and yet afraid to ring and learn the truth! As though the truth -must be terrible; as though it would be a tragedy if they did happen to -be from home! - -It would serve him right if they were. - -So at last, with such a smile as a man may force on the walk to the -gallows, Harry Ringrose dragged himself slowly to the steps, and still -more slowly up them; for they were dirty; and something else about the -entrance was different, though he could not at first tell what. It was -not the bell, which he now pulled, and heard clanging in the kitchen -loud enough to rouse the house; he was still wondering what it was when -the last slow tinkling cut his speculations short. - -Strange how so small a sound should carry all the way from the kitchen! - -He rang again before peering through one of the narrow ruby panes that -lighted the porch on each side of the door. He could see no farther -than the wall opposite, for the inner door was to the right, and in the -rich crimson light the porch looked itself at first sight. Then -simultaneously Harry missed the mat, the hat stand, a stag's antlers; -and in another instant he knew what it was that had struck him as -different about the entrance. He ought not to have been able to peer -through that coloured light at all. The sill should have supported the -statuette of Night which matched a similar representation of Morning on -the other side of the door. Both were gone; and the distant bell, still -pealing lustily from his second tug, was breaking the silence of an -empty house. - -Harry was like a man waking from a trance: the birds sang loud in his -ears, the sun beat hot on his back, while he himself stood staring at -his own black shadow on the locked door, and wondering what it was, for -it never moved. Then, in a sudden frenzy, he struck his hand through -the ruby glass, and plucked out the pieces the putty still held in -place, until he was able to squeeze through bodily. Blood dripped from -his fingers and smeared the handle of the unlocked inner door as he -seized and turned it and sprang within. The hall was empty. The stairs -were bare. - -He ran into room after room; all were stripped from floor to ceiling. -The sun came in rods through the drawn blinds: on the walls were the -marks of the pictures: on the floors, a stray straw here and there. - -He cried aloud and railed in his agony. He shouted through the house, -and his voice came back to him from the attics. Suddenly, in a grate, -he espied a printed booklet. It was an auctioneer's list. The sale had -taken place that very month. - -The calmness of supreme misery now stole over Harry Ringrose, and he -saw that his fingers were bleeding over the auctioneer's list. He took -out his handkerchief and wiped them carefully--he had no tears to -staunch--and bound up the worst finger with studious deliberation. -Apathy succeeded frenzy, and, utterly dazed, he sat down on the stairs, -for there was nowhere else to sit, and for some minutes the only sound -in the empty house was the turning of the leaves of the auctioneer's -list. - -Suddenly he leapt to his feet: another sound had broken the silence, -and it was one that he seemed to have heard only yesterday: a sound so -familiar in his home, so home-like in itself, that it seemed even now -to give the lie to his wild and staring eyes. - -It was the sound of wheels in the gravel drive. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -THE BREAKING OF THE NEWS. - - -Harry was in three minds in as many seconds: he would hide, he would -rush out and learn the truth, he would first see who it was that had -followed him at such an hour. The last impulse prevailed, and the study -was the room from which to peep. Harry crept in on tiptoe, past the -bookshelves eloquently bare, to the bow-window with the drawn Venetian -blinds. Slightly raising one of the laths, he could see everything as -the cab drew up at the steps. - -The cab-door was flung open and out sprang an utter stranger to Harry -Ringrose. This was a middle-aged man of the medium height, wearing a -somewhat shabby tall hat and a frock-coat which shone unduly in the -strong sunlight. He had a fresh complexion, a reddish moustache -streaked with grey, a sharp-pointed nose, and a very deep chin which -needed shaving; but what struck Harry first and last were the keen, -decisive eyes, twinkling behind glasses with gold rims, which went -straight to the broken window and surveyed it critically before their -owner had set foot on the steps. It seemed that the cabman saw it too -and made some remark; for the fare turned upon him, paid him and -slammed his door, and ordered him off in a very peremptory voice which -Harry heard distinctly. The cab turned in the sweep and disappeared -among the trees. Then the stranger came slowly up the steps, with his -eyes once more fixed upon the broken window. In another moment they had -run like lightning over the face of the house, and, before Harry had -time to move, had met his own. - -The stranger raised his eyebrows, shook his head, and pointed to the -front door. Harry went to it, shot the bolts back, turned the key, and -flung the door wide open. He was trembling now with simple terror. His -tongue would not ask what had happened. It was like standing to be -shot, and having to give the signal to the firing party. - -The other seemed to feel it almost equally: his fresh face was pale, -and his quick eyes still with sorrow and compunction. It was evident he -knew the worst. If only he would tell it unasked! - -"My name is Lowndes," he began at last. "Gordon Lowndes--you must have -heard of me?" - -"I--I don't remember it," stammered Harry at the second attempt. - -"I stayed here several times while you were in Africa. I was here in -February." - -"Yes, now I remember your name: it was in the last letter I had." - -He could say this calmly; and yet his lips could not frame the question -whose answer would indeed be life or death. - -"Two years ago I did not know your people," resumed the other. "But for -two years I have been their most intimate friend." - -"Tell me," at length whispered Harry: "is--either of them--dead?" And -he awaited the worst with a sudden fortitude. - -Mr. Lowndes shook his head. - -"Not that I know of," said he. - -"Thank God!" the boy burst out, with the first break in his voice. -"Nothing else matters--nothing--nothing! I made sure it was that! Can -you swear that my father is all right?" - -The other winced. "To the best of my knowledge," said he almost -sharply. - -"And my mother?" - -"Yes, yes, I was with her three days ago." - -"Where?" - -"In London." - -"London! And I passed through London last night! You saw her, you say, -three days ago, and she was all right then?" - -"I never knew her look better." - -"Then tell me the worst and let us have it over! I can see that we have -lost our money--but that doesn't matter. Nothing matters if they are -all right; won't you come in, sir, and tell me all?" - -Harry did not know it, for in his deep emotion he had lost sight of -self; but there was something infinitely touching in the way the young -man stood aside and ushered his senior into the hall as though it were -still his home. Mr. Lowndes shook his head at the unconscious air, and -he entered slowly, with it bent. Harry shut the doors behind them, and -they turned into the first room. It was the room with the empty -bookshelves; and it still smelt of Harry's father's cheroots. - -"You may wonder at my turning up like this," said Lowndes; "but for -those fools at the shipping-office I should have met you at the docks. -I undertook to do so, and to break the news to you there." - -"But how could you know my ship?" - -The other smiled. - -"Cable," said he; "that was a very simple matter. But if your shipping -fellows hadn't sworn you'd be reported from the Lizard, in lots of time -for me to get up from Scotland to meet you, I should never have run -down there as I was induced to do on business the night before last. I -should have let the business slide. As it was the telegram reached me -last night in Glasgow, when I knew it was too late to keep you out of -this. Still, I timed myself to get here five minutes before you, and -should have done it if my train hadn't been forty minutes late. It--it -must have been the devil's own quarter-of-an-hour for you, Ringrose! -Have a drop of this before we go on; it'll do you good." - -He took a flask from his pocket and half filled the cup with raw -whisky, which Harry seized gratefully and drained at a gulp. In truth, -the shock of the morning, after the night's excitement, had left him -miserably faint. The spirit revived him a little. - -"You are very kind to me," he said, returning the cup. "You must be a -great friend of my parents for them to give you this job, and a good -friend to take it on! Now, if you please, tell me every mortal thing; -you will tell me nothing I cannot bear; but I am sure you are too kind -to keep anything back." - -Lowndes was gazing with a shrewd approval upon the plucky young fellow, -in whom, indeed, disappointment and disaster had so far awakened only -what was best. At the last words, however, the quick eyes fell behind -the gold-rimmed glasses in a way that made Harry wonder whether he had -indeed been told the worst. And yet there was already more than enough -to account for the other's embarrassment; and he determined not to add -to it by unnecessary or by impatient questions. - -"You are doubtless aware," began Lowndes, "that the iron trade in this -country has long been going from bad to worse? You have heard of the -bad times, I imagine, before to-day?" - -Harry nodded: he had heard of the bad times as long as he could -remember. But because the happy conditions of his own boyhood had not -been affected by the cry, he had believed that it was nothing else. He -was punished now. - -"The times," proceeded Lowndes, "have probably been bad since your -childhood. How old are you now?" - -"Twenty-one to-day." - -"To-day!" - -"Go on," said Harry, hoarsely. "Don't be sorry for me. I deserve very -little sympathy." His hands were in the pockets he had wilfully emptied -of every coin. - -"When you were five years old," continued Lowndes, "the pig-iron your -father made fetched over five pounds a ton; before you were seven it -was down to two-pounds-ten; it never picked up again; and for the last -ten years it hasn't averaged two pounds. Shall I tell you what that -means? For these ten years your father has been losing a few shillings -on every ton of pig-iron produced--a few hundred pounds every week of -his life!" - -"And I was enjoying myself at school, and now in Africa! Oh," groaned -Harry Ringrose, "go on, go on; but don't waste any pity on me." - -"You may be a very rich man, but that sort of thing can't last for -ever. The end is bound to come, and in your father's case it came, -practically speaking, several years ago." - -"Several years? I don't follow you. He never failed?" - -"It would have been better for you all if he had. You have looked upon -this place as your own, I suppose, from as far back as you can remember -down to this morning?" - -"As my father's own--decidedly." - -"It has belonged to his bankers for at least five years." - -"How do you know?" cried Harry hotly. - -"He told me himself, when I first came down here, now eighteen months -ago. We met in London, and he asked me down. I was in hopes we might do -business together; but it was no go." - -"What sort of business?" - -"I wanted him to turn the whole thing into a Limited Liability -Company," said Gordon Lowndes, reeling off the last three words as -though he knew them better than his own name; "I mean those useless -blast-furnaces! What good were they doing? None at all. Three bob a ton -on the wrong side! That's all the good they'd done for years, and -that's all they were likely to do till times changed. Times never will -change--to what they were when you were breeched--but that's a detail. -Your father's name down here was as sweet as honey. All he'd got to do -was to start an extra carriage or two, put up for Parliament on the -winning side, and turn his works into a Limited Liability Company. I'd -have promoted it. I'd have seen it through in town. The best men would -have gone on the board, and we'd have done the bank so well in shares -that they wouldn't have got out of it if they could. We'd have made a -spanking good thing of it if only the governor would have listened to -reason. He wouldn't; said he'd rather go down with the ship than let in -a lot of shareholders. 'Damn the shareholders!' says I. 'Why count the -odds in the day of battle?' It's the biggest mistake you can make, -Ringrose, and your governor kept on making it! It was in this very -room, and he was quite angry with me. He wouldn't let me say another -word. And what happens? A year or so later--this last February--he -wires me to come down at once. Of course I came, but it was as I -thought: the bank's sick of it, and threatens to foreclose. I went to -see them; not a bit of good. Roughly speaking, it was a case of either -paying off half the mortgage and reconstructing the whole bag of -tricks, or going through the courts to beggary. Twenty thousand was the -round figure; and I said I'd raise it if it was to be raised." - -This speech had barely occupied a minute, so rapidly was it spoken; and -there was much of it which Harry, in his utter ignorance of all such -matters, would have found difficult to follow at a much slower rate of -utterance. As it was, however, it filled him with distrust of his -father's friend, who, on his own showing, had made some proposal -dishonourable in the eyes of a high-principled man. Moreover, it came -instinctively to Harry that he had caught a first glimpse of the real -Gordon Lowndes, with his cunning eyes flashing behind his _pince-nez_, -the gestures of a stump orator, and this stream of unintelligible -jargon gushing from his lips. The last sentences, however, were plain -enough even to Harry's understanding. - -"You said you'd raise it," he repeated dryly; "yet you can't have done -so." - -"I raised ten thousand." - -"Only half; well?" - -"It was no use." - -"My father would refuse to touch it?" - -"N-no." - -"Then what did he do?" - -Lowndes drew back a pace, saying nothing, but watching the boy with -twitching eyelids. - -"Come, sir, speak out!" cried Harry, "He will tell me himself, you -know, when I get back to London." - -"He is not there." - -"You said he was!" - -"I said your mother was." - -"Where is my father, then?" - -"On the Continent--we think." - -"You think? And the--ten thousand pounds?" - -"He has it with him," said Lowndes, in a low voice. "I'm sorry to say -he--bolted with the lot!" - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -THE SIN OF THE FATHER. - - -"It's a lie!" - -The word flew through Harry's teeth as in another century his sword -might have flown from its sheath; and so blind was he with rage and -horror that he scarcely appreciated its effect on Gordon Lowndes. Never -was gross insult more mildly taken. The elder man did certainly change -colour for an instant; in another he had turned away with a shrug, and -in yet another he was round again with a sad half-smile. Harry glared -at him in a growing terror. He saw that he was forgiven; a blow had -disconcerted him less. - -"I expected you to jump down my throat," observed Lowndes, with a -certain twitching of the sharp nose which came and went with the -intermittent twinkle in his eyes. - -"It is lucky you are not a younger man, or you would have got even more -than you expected!" - -"For telling you the truth? Well, well, I admire your spirit, -Ringrose." - -"It is not the truth," said Harry doggedly, his chest heaving, and a -cold sweat starting from his skin. - -"I wish to God it were not!" - -"You mean to tell me my father absconded?" - -"That is the word I should have used." - -"With ten thousand pounds that did not belong to him?" - -"Not exactly that; the money was lent to him, but for another purpose. -He has misapplied rather than misappropriated it." - -Harry felt his head swimming. Disaster he might bear--but disaster -rooted in disgrace! He gazed in mute misery upon the stripped but still -familiar room; he breathed hard, and the stale odour of his father's -cheroots became a sudden agony in his dilated nostrils. Something told -him that what he had heard was true. That did not make it easier to -believe--on the bare word of a perfect stranger. - -"Proofs!" he gasped. "What proofs have you? Have you any?" - -Lowndes produced a pocket-book and extracted a number of newspaper -cuttings. - -"Yes," sighed he, "I have almost everything that has appeared about it -in the papers. It will be cruel reading for you, Ringrose; but you may -take it better so than from anybody's lips. The accounts in the local -press--the creditors' meetings and so forth--are, however, rather long. -Hadn't you better wait until we're on our way back to town?" - -"Wait? No, show me something now! I apologise for what I said; I made -use of an unpardonable word; but--I don't believe it yet!" - -"Here, then," said Lowndes, "if you insist. Here's a single short -paragraph from the _P.M.G._ It would appear about the last day in -March." - -"The day I sailed!" groaned Harry. He took the cutting and read as -follows:-- - - THE MISSING IRONMASTER. - - The Press Association states that nothing further has been - ascertained with regard to the whereabouts of Mr. Henry J. - Ringrose, the Westmoreland ironmaster, who was last seen on Easter - Eve. He has been traced, however, as already reported in these - columns, to the Café Suisse in Dieppe, though no further. The - people at the café persist in stating that their visitor only - remained a few hours, so that he would appear to have walked thence - into thin air. The police, as usual, are extremely reticent; but - inquiry at Scotland Yard has elicited the fact that considerable - doubt exists as to whether the missing man's chief creditors will, - or can, owing to the character of their claim, take further action - in the matter. - -"Who are the chief creditors?" asked Harry, returning the cutting with -an ashy face. - -"Four business friends of your father's, from whom I raised the money -in his name." - -"Here in the neighbourhood?" - -"No, in London; they advanced two thousand five hundred each." - -"It was no good, you say?" - -"No; the bank was not satisfied." - -"So my father ran away with their money and left the works to go to -blazes--and my mother to starve?" - -Lowndes shrugged his shoulders. - -"I apologise again for insulting you, Mr. Lowndes," said the boy, -holding out his hand. "You have been a good friend to my poor father, I -can see, and I know that you firmly believe what you say. But I never -will! No; not if all his friends, and every newspaper in the kingdom, -told me it was true!" - -"Then what are you to believe?" - -"That there has been foul play!" - -The elder man turned away with another shrug, and it was some moments -before Harry saw his face; when he did it was grave and sympathetic as -before, and exhibited no trace of the irritation which it had cost an -apparent effort to suppress. - -"I am not surprised at that entering your head, Ringrose." - -"Has it never entered yours?" - -"Everything has; but one weeds out the impossibilities." - -"Why is it impossible?" Harry burst out. "It is a good deal likelier -than that my father would have done what it's said he did! There's an -impossibility, if you like; and you would say so, too, if you had known -him better." - -Mr. Lowndes shook his head, and smiled sadly as he watched the boy's -flaming face through his spectacles. - -"You may have known your father, Ringrose, but you don't know human -nature, or you wouldn't talk like that. Nothing is impossible--no -crime--not even to the best of us--when the strain becomes more than we -can bear. It is a pure question of strain and strength: which is the -greater of the two. Every man has his breaking-point; your father was -at his for years; it's a mystery to me how he held out so long. You -must look at it sensibly, Ringrose. No thinking man will blame him, for -the simple reason that every man who thinks knows very well that he -might have done the same thing himself under the same pressure. -Besides--give him a chance! With ten thousand pounds in his pocket----" - -"You're sure he had it in his pocket?" interrupted Harry. These -arguments only galled his wounds. - -"Or else in a bag; it comes to the same thing." - -"In what shape would he have the money?" - -"Big notes and some gold." - -"Yet foul play's an impossibility!" - -"The numbers of the notes are known. Not one of them has turned up." - -"I care nothing about that," cried the boy wildly, "though it shows he -hasn't spent them himself. Listen to me, Mr. Lowndes. I believe my -father is dead, I believe he has been murdered: and I would rather that -than what you say! But you claim to have been his friend? You raised -this money for him? Very well; take my hand--here in his room--where I -can see him now, all the time I'm talking to you--and swear that you -will help me to clear this mystery up! We'll inspan the best detective -in town, and take him with us to Dieppe, and never leave him till we -get at the truth. I mean to live for nothing else. Swear that you will -help me ... swear it here ... in his own room." - -The wild voice had come down to a broken whisper. Next moment it had -risen again: the man hesitated. - -"Swear it! Swear it! Or you may have been my father's friend, but you -are none from this hour to my mother and me." - -Lowndes spread his hands in an indulgent gesture. - -"Very well! I swear to help you to clear up this--mystery--as long as -you think it is one." - -"That is all I want. Now tell me when the next train starts for town. -It used to be nine-twenty?" - -"It is still." - -"You are returning to London yourself?" - -"Yes, by that train." - -"Then let us meet at the station. It is now eight. I--I want to be -alone here for an hour or two. No, it will do me good, it will calm me. -I feel I have been very rude to you, sir, but I have hardly known what -I said. I am beside myself--beside myself!" And Harry Ringrose rushed -from the room, and up the bare and sounding stairs of his empty home: -it was from his own old bedroom that he heard Lowndes leave the house, -and saw a dejected figure climbing the sloping drive with heavy steps. - -That hour of leave-taking is not to be described. How the boy harrowed -himself wilfully by going into every room and thinking of something -that had happened there, and seeing it all again through scalding -tears, is a thing to be understood by some, but pitied rather than -commended. There was, however, another and a sounder side to Harry -Ringrose, and the prayers he prayed, and the vows he vowed, these were -brave, and he meant them all that bitter birthday morning, that was to -have been the happiest of all his life. Then his heart was broken but -still heroic: there came many a brighter day he would gladly have -exchanged for that black one, for the sake of its high resolves, its -pure impulses, its noble and undaunted aspirations. - -He had one more rencontre before he got away: in the garden he espied -their old gardener. It was impossible not to go up and speak to him; -and Harry left the old man crying like a child; but he himself had no -tears. - -"I am glad they left you your job: you will care for things," he had -said, as he was going. - -"Ay, ay, for the master's sake: he was the best master a man ever had, -say what they will." - -"But you don't believe what they say?" - -The gardener looked blank. - -"Do you dare to tell me," cried Harry, "that you believe what they -believe?" - -It was at this the man broke down; but Harry strode away with bitter -resentment in his heart, and so back to the town, with a defiant face -for every passer; but this time there were none he knew. At the spot -where his old companion had cut him, that affront was recalled for the -first time; its meaning was plain enough now; and plain the strange -conduct of the railway-porter, who kept out of his way when Harry -reappeared at the station. - -Lowndes was there waiting for him, and had not only taken the tickets, -but also telegraphed to Mrs. Ringrose; and this moved poor Harry to a -shame-faced confession of his improvidence on the way down, and its -awful results, in the midst of which the other burst out laughing in -his face. Harry was a boy after his own heart; it was a treat to meet -anybody who declined to count the odds in the day of battle; but, in -any case, Mr. Lowndes claimed the rest of the day as "his funeral." As -Harry listened, and thanked his new friend, he had a keen and hostile -eye for any old ones; but the train left without his seeing another. - -"The works look the same as ever," groaned Harry, as he gazed out on -them once more. "I thought they seemed to be doing so splendidly, with -all four furnaces in blast." - -"They are doing better than for some years past: iron's looking up: the -creditors may get their money back yet." - -"Thank God for that!" - -Lowndes opened his eyes, and the sharp nose twitched amusement. - -"If I were in your place that would be the worst part of all. I have no -sympathy with creditors as a class." - -"I want to be even with them," said Harry through his teeth. "I will -be, too, before I die: with every man of them. Hallo! why, this is a -first-class carriage! How does that happen? I never looked where we got -in; I followed you." - -"And I chose that we should travel first." - -"But I can't, I won't!" cried Harry, excitedly. "It was monstrous of me -last night, but it would be criminal this morning. You sit where you -are. I can change into a third at the next station." - -"I have a first-class ticket for you," rejoined Lowndes. "You may as -well make use of it." - -"But when shall I pay you back?" - -"Never, my boy! I tell you this is my funeral till I deliver you over -to your mother, so don't _you_ begin counting the odds; you've nothing -to do with them. Besides, you came up like a rocket, and I won't have -you go down altogether like the stick!" - -Nor did he; and Harry soon saw that his companion was not to be judged -by his shabby top-hat and his shiny frock-coat; he was evidently a very -rich man. Where the boy had flung half-crowns overnight--where -half-a-crown was more than ample--his elder now scattered -half-sovereigns, and they had an engaged carriage the whole way. At -Preston an extravagant luncheon-basket was taken in, with a bottle of -champagne and some of the best obtainable cigars, for the quality of -both of which Gordon Lowndes made profuse apologies. But Harry felt a -new being after his meal, for grief and excitement had been his bread -all day, and the wine warmed his heart to the strange man with whom he -had been thrown in such dramatic contact. Better company, in happier -circumstances, it would have been difficult to imagine; and it was -clear that, with quip and anecdote, he was doing his utmost to amuse -Harry and to take him out of his trouble. But to no purpose: the boy -was perforce a bad listener, and at last confessed it in as many words. - -"My mind is so full of my father," added Harry, "that I have hardly -given my dear mother a thought; but my life is hers from to-day. You -said she was in Kensington; in lodgings, I suppose?" - -"No, in a flat. It's very small, but there's a room for you, and it's -been ready for weeks." - -"What is she living on?" - -"Less than half her private income by marriage settlement; that was all -there was left, and five-eighths of it she would insist on making over -to the men who advanced the ten thousand. She is paying them -two-and-a-half per cent. on their money and attempting to live on a -hundred and fifty a year!" - -"I'll double it before long!" - -"Then she'll pay them five." - -"They shall have every farthing one day; and the other creditors, they -shall have their twenty shillings in the pound if I live long enough. -Now let me have the rest of those cuttings. I want to know just how we -stand--and what they say." - -Out came the pocket-book once more. They were an hour's run nearer town -when Harry spoke again. - -"May I keep them?" he said. - -"Surely." - -"Thank you. I take it the bank's all right--and thank God the other -liabilities up there are not large. As to the flight with that ten -thousand--I don't believe it yet. There has been foul play. You mark my -words." - -Lowndes looked out at the flying fields. - -"Which of you saw him last?" continued Harry. - -"Your mother, when he left for town." - -"When was that?" - -"The morning after Good Friday." - -"When did he cross?" - -"That night." - -"Did he write to anybody?" - -"Not that I know of." - -"Not to my mother?" - -Lowndes leant forward across the compartment: there was a shrewd look -in the spectacled eyes. - -"Not that I know of," he said again, but with a different intonation. -"I have often wondered!" - -"Did you ask her?" - -"Yes; she said not." - -"Then what do you mean?" cried Harry indignantly. "Do you think my -mother would tell you a lie?" - -"Your mother is the most loyal little woman in England," was the reply. -"I certainly think that she would keep her end up in the day of -battle." - -Harry ground his teeth. He could have struck the florid able face whose -every look showed a calm assumption of his father's infamy. - -"You take it all for granted!" he fumed; "you, who say you were his -friend. How am I to believe in such friendship? True friends are not so -ready to believe the worst. Oh! it makes my blood boil to hear you -talk; it makes me hate myself for accepting kindness at your hands. You -have been very kind, I know," added Harry in a breaking voice; -"but--but for God's sake don't let us speak about it any more!" And he -flung up a newspaper to hide his quivering lips; for now he was hoping -against hope and believing against belief. - -Was it not in black and white in all the papers? How could it be -otherwise than true? Rightly or wrongly, the world had found his father -guilty; and was he to insult all and sundry who failed to repudiate the -verdict of the world? - -Harry was one who could not endure to be in the wrong with anybody: his -weakness in every quarrel was an incongruous hankering for the good -opinion of the enemy, and this was intensified in the case of one who -was obviously anxious to be his friend. To appear ungracious or -ungrateful was equally repugnant to Harry Ringrose, and no sooner was -he master of his emotion than he lowered the paper in order to add a -few words which should remove any such impression. - -Gordon Lowndes sat dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief that he -made haste to put away, as though it was his eyes he had been wiping, -which indeed was Harry's first belief. But the gold-rimmed glasses were -not displaced, and, so far from a tear, there was an expression behind -them for which Harry could not then find the name; nevertheless, it -made him hold his tongue after all. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -THE NEW HOME. - - -Harry had hoped that his companion would go his own way when they got -to London; but it was "his funeral," as Mr. Lowndes kept saying, and he -seemed determined to conduct it to the end. Euston was crowded, where -Lowndes behaved like a man in his element, dealing abuse and largesse -with equal energy and freedom, and getting Harry and all his boxes off -in the first cab which left the station. But he himself was at Harry's -side; and there he sat until the cab stopped, half-an-hour later, -beneath a many-windowed red-brick pile thrown up in the angle of two -back streets. - -A porter in uniform ran up to help with the luggage, and, as Harry -jumped out, a voice with a glad sob in it hailed him from a first-floor -window. He waved his hat, and, with a pang, saw a white head vanishing: -it had not been white when he went away. Next moment he was flying up -the stone stairs three at a time; and on the first landing, at an open -door, there was the sweet face, all aged and lined and lighted with -sorrow and shame and love; there were the softest arms in all the -world, spread wide to catch and clasp him to the warmest heart. - -It was a long time afterwards, in a room which made the old furniture -look very big, the old pictures very sad, that Mr. Lowndes was -remembered for the first time. They looked into the narrow passage: the -boxes blocked it, but he was not there; they called, but there was no -answer. - -"Have we no servant, mother?" - -"We have no room for one. The porter's wife comes up and helps me." - -"I can help you! Many a meal have I cooked in Africa." - -"My boy, what a home-coming!" - -It was the first word about that, and with it came the first catch in -Harry's mother's voice. - -"No, mother, thank God I am back to take care of you; and oh! I am so -thankful we are to be alone to-night." - -"But I am sorry he did not come in." - -"He was quite right not to." - -"But he must have paid for the cab--I will look out of the window--yes, -it has gone--and I had the money ready in case you forgot!" - -Harry could have beaten himself, but he could not tell his mother just -then that he had arrived without a penny, and that Lowndes had not only -paid the cabman, but must be pounds out of pocket by him on the day. - -"Don't you like him, dear?" said his mother, divining that he did not. - -"I do and I don't," said Harry bluntly. - -"He has been so kind to me!" - -"Yes; he is kind enough." - -"Did you not think it good of him to rush from Scotland to meet you and -then bring you all the way to your--new--home?" - -"It was almost too good. I would have been happier alone," said Harry, -forgetting all else in his bitter remembrance of some speeches Lowndes -had made. - -"That is not very grateful, my boy. You little know what he has been to -me!" - -"Has he done so much?" - -"Everything--all through! You see what I have saved from the wreck? It -was he who went to bid for me at the sale!" - -"You bought them in, mother?" - -"Yes; I could accept nothing from the creditors. That is the one point -on which I quarrel with Mr. Lowndes; but we have agreed to differ. Why -do you dislike him, Harry?" - -"Mother, don't you know?" - -"I cannot imagine." - -"He thinks the worst--about my father." - -It was the first mention of the father's name. Mrs. Ringrose was silent -for many moments. - -"I know he does," she said at length. - -"Then how can you bear the sight of him?" her boy burst out. - -"It is no worse than all the world thinks." - -And Mrs. Ringrose sighed; but now her voice was abnormally calm, as -with a grief too great for tears. - -The long May evening had not yet closed in, and in the ensuing silence -the cries of children in the street below, and the Last Waltz of Weber -from the piano of the flat above, came with equal impertinence through -the open windows. Mrs. Ringrose was in the rocking-chair in which she -had nursed her only child. Her back was to the light, but she was -rocking slowly. Her son stood over her with horror deepening in his -face, but hers he could not see, only the white head which two years -ago had been hardly grey. He dropped upon his knees and seized her -hands; they were cold; and he missed her rings. - -"Mother--mother! You don't think it too?" - -No answer. - -"You do! Oh, mother, how are we to go on living after this? What makes -you think it? Quick! has he written to you?" - -Mrs. Ringrose started violently. "Who put that into your head?" she -cried out sharply. - -"Nobody. I only wondered if there had been a letter, and I asked -Lowndes, but he said you said there had not." - -"Was that not enough for you?" - -"Oh, mother, tell me the truth!" - -The poor lady groaned aloud. - -"God knows I meant to keep it to myself!" she whispered. "And yet--oh, -how could I destroy his letter? And I thought you ought to see it--some -day--not yet." - -"Mother, I must see it now." - -"You will never breathe it to a soul?" - -"Never without your permission." - -"No one must ever dream I heard one word after he left me!" - -"No one ever shall." - -"I will get the letter." - -His hand was trembling when he took it from her. - -"It was written on the steamer, you see." - -"It may be a forgery," said Harry, in a loud voice that trembled too. -Yet there was a ring of real hope in it. He was thinking of Lowndes in -the train. He had caught him mopping a wet brow. He had surprised a -guilty look--yes, guilty was the word--he had found it at last--in -those shifty eyes behind the _pince-nez_. If villainy should be at the -bottom of it all, and Lowndes at the bottom of the villainy! - -If the letter should prove a forgery after all! - -He had it in his hand. He carried it to the failing light. He hardly -dared to look at it, but when he did a cry escaped him. - -It was a cry of disappointment and abandoned hope. - -Minutes passed without another sound; then the letter was slowly folded -up and restored to its envelope, and dropped into Harry's pocket, -before his arms went round his mother's neck. - -"Mother, let me burn it, so that no eyes but ours shall ever see!" - -"Burn it? Burn the last letter I may ever have from him? Give it to -me!" And she pressed it to her bosom. - -Harry hung his head in a long and wretched silence. - -"We must forget him, mother," he said at last. - -"Harry, he was a good father to you, he loved you dearly. He was mad -when he did what he has done. You must never say that again." - -"I meant we must forget what he has done----" - -"Ah God! if I could!" - -"And only think of him as he used to be." - -"Yes; yes; we will try." - -"It would be easier--don't you think--if we never spoke of this?" - -"We never will, unless we must." - -"Let us think that we just failed like other people. But, mother, I -will work all my life to pay off everybody! I will work for you till I -drop. Goodness knows what at; but I learnt to work for fun in Africa, I -am ready to work in earnest, and, thank God, I have all my life before -me." - -"You are twenty-one to-day!" - -"Yes, I start fair in every way." - -"That this should be your twenty-first birthday! My boy--my boy!" - - * * * * * - -The long May twilight deepens into night; the many windows of the -red-brick block are lit up one by one; and the many lives go on. Below, -at the curb, a doctor's brougham and a hansom are waiting end to end; -and from that top flat a young couple come scuttling down the stone -stairs, he in a crush-hat, she with a flower in her hair, and theirs is -the hansom. The flat below has similar tenants, but here the doctor is, -and the young man paces his desolate parlour with a ghastly face. - -And in the flat below that it is Weber's Last Waltz once more, and -nothing else, by the hour together. And in the flat below that--the -flat that would have gone into one room of their old home--Harry -Ringrose and his mother are still steeling themselves and one another -to face the future and to live down the past. - -The light has been lowered in their front room and transferred for a -space to the tiny dining-room at the back, which looks down into the -building's well, but now it is the front windows which stand out once -more. Twelve o'clock comes, and there is a tinkle of homing hansoms -(the brougham has gone away masterless), and the public-house at the -corner empties noisily, but the light in those front windows remains -the brightest in the mansions. And Weber is done with at last; but the -two voices below go on and on and on into the night; nor do they cease -when their light shifts yet again into the front bedroom. - -It is two in the morning, and the young couple have come home crumpled -from their dance, and their feet drag dreadfully on the stairs, and the -doctor has taken their hansom, and the young man below them is drunk -with joy, when Harry Ringrose kisses his mother for the twentieth last -time and really goes. But he is too excited to sleep. In half-an-hour -he creeps back into the passage. Her light is still burning. He goes -in. - -"You spoke of Innes, mother?" - -"Yes; I feel sure he would be the first to help you." - -"I cannot go to him. I can go to nobody. We must start afresh with -fresh friends, and I'll begin answering advertisements to-morrow. -Yet--Innes has helped me already!" - -Mrs. Ringrose has been reading herself asleep, like a practical woman, -out of one of the new magazines he has brought home. The sweet face on -the pillow is wonderfully calm (for it is not from his mother that -Harry inherits his excitability), but at this it looks puzzled. - -"When has he helped you?" - -"To-night, mother! There was a motto he had when I was at his school. -He used to say it in his sermons, and he taught me to say it in my -heart." - -"Well, my boy?" - -"It came back to me just now. It puts all that we have been saying in a -nutshell. May I tell you, mother?" - -"I am waiting to hear." - -"'Money lost--little lost.'" - -"It's easy to say that." - -"'Honour lost--much lost.'" - -"I call it everything." - -"No, mother, wait! 'PLUCK lost--ALL lost!' It's only pluck that's -everything. We must never lose that, mother, we must never lose that!" - -"God grant we never may." - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -A WET BLANKET. - - -The morning sun filled the front rooms of the flat, and the heavy -hearts within were the lighter for its cheery rays. Sorrow may outlive -the night, and small joy come in the morning; but yet, if you are young -and sanguine, and the month be May, and the heavens unspotted, and the -air nectar, then you may suddenly find yourself thrilling with an -unwarrantable delight in mere life, and that in the very midst of -life's miseries. It was so with young Harry Ringrose, on the morning -following his tragic home-coming; it was even so with Harry's mother, -who was as young at heart as her boy, and fully as sanguine in -temperament. They had come down from the high ground of the night. The -everyday mood had supervened. Harry was unpacking his ostrich eggs in -the narrow passage, and thoroughly enjoying a pipe; in her own room his -mother sat cleaning her silver, incredible contentment in her face, -because her boy was in and out all the morning, and the little flat was -going to bring them so close together. - -"That's the lot," said Harry when the bed was covered with the eggs. -"Now, mother, which do you think the best pair?" - -"They all look the same to me." - -"They are not. Look at this pair in my hands. Can't you see that -they're much bigger and finer than the rest?" - -"I daresay they are." - -"They're for you, mother, these two." - -And he set them on the table among the spoons and forks and -plate-powder. She kissed him, but looked puzzled. - -"What shall you do with the rest?" - -"Sell them! Five shillings a pair; five tens are fifty; that's -two-pound-ten straight away." - -"I won't have you sell them!" - -"They are mine, mother, and I must." - -"You'll be sorry for it when you have a good situation." - -"Ah, when!" said Harry, and he was out again with a laugh. - -A noise of breaking wood came from the passage. He was opening another -case. His mother frowned at her miniature in the spoon she had in hand, -and when he returned, brandishing a brace of Kaffir battle-axes, she -would hardly look at them. - -"I feel sure Wintour Phipps would take you into his office," said Mrs. -Ringrose. - -"I never heard of him. Who is he?" - -"A solicitor; your father paid for his stamps when he was articled." - -"An old friend, then?" - -"Not of mine, for I never saw him; but he was your father's godson." - -"It comes to the same thing, and I can't go to him, mother. Face old -friends I cannot! You and I are starting afresh, dear; I'm prepared to -answer every advertisement in the papers, and to take any work I can -get, but not to go begging favours of people who would probably cut us -in the street. I don't expect to get a billet instantly; that's why I -mean to sell all this truck--for the benefit of the firm." - -"You had much better write an article about your experiences, and get -it into some magazine, as you said you would last night." - -Indeed, they had discussed every possible career in the night, among -others that of literature, which the mother deemed her son competent to -follow on the strength of certain contributions to his school magazine, -and of the winning parody in some prize competition of ancient history. -He now said he would try his hand on the article some day, but it would -take time, and would anybody accept it when written? That was the -question, said Harry, and his mother had a characteristic answer. - -"If you wrote to the Editor of _Uncle Tom's Magazine_," said she, "and -told him you had taken it in as long as you could remember--I bought in -the bound volumes for you, my boy--I feel sure that he would accept it -and pay for it too." - -"Well, we'll see," said Harry, with a laugh. "Meanwhile we must find -somebody to accept all these curios, and to pay for them. I see no room -for them here." - -"There is certainly very little." - -"I wonder who would be the best people to go to?" - -Mrs. Ringrose considered. - -"I should try Whitbreds," said she at last, "since you are so set upon -it. They sell everything; and I have had all my groceries from them for -so many years that they can hardly refuse to take something from us." - -To the simple-hearted lady, whom fifty years had failed to -sophisticate, there seemed nothing unreasonable in the expectations -which she formed of others, for they were one and all founded upon the -almost fanatical loyalty which was a guiding impulse of her own warm -heart. In her years of plenty it was ever the humblest friend who won -her warmest welcome, and the lean years to come proved powerless to -check this generous spirit. Mrs. Ringrose would be illogically staunch -to tradesmen whom she had dealt with formerly, and would delight their -messengers with unnecessary gratuities because she had been accustomed -to give all her life; but so unconscious was she of undue liberality on -her part that she was apt to credit others with her own extravagance in -charity, and to feel it bitterly when not done by as perhaps she alone -would have done. It simply astounded her when three of her husband's -old friends, who had in no way suffered by him, successively refused -her secret supplication for a desk for her boy in their offices: she -would herself have slept on the floor to have given the child of any -one of them a bed in her little flat. - -But the treadmill round in search of work was not yet begun, though -Harry was soon enough to find himself upon the wheel. Even as he -unpacked his native weapons a weighty step was ascending the common -stair, and the electric bell rang long and aggressively just as Mrs. -Ringrose decided that it would be worth her son's while to let his -trophies go for fifty pounds. - -"A tall man in a topper!" whispered Harry, bursting quietly in. "I saw -him through the ground glass; who can it be?" - -"Your Uncle Spencer," said Mrs. Ringrose, looking straight at Harry -over the wash-leather and the mustard-pot. - -"Uncle Spencer!" Harry looked aghast. "What's bringing him, mother?" - -"I wrote to him directly I got the telegram." - -"You never said so!" - -"No; I knew you wouldn't be pleased." - -"Need I see him?" - -"It is you he has come to see. Go, my boy; take him into the -sitting-room, and I will join you when you have had your talk. -Meanwhile, remember that he is your mother's brother, and will exert -his influence to get you a situation; he has come so promptly, I -shouldn't be surprised if he has got you one already! And you are -letting him ring twice!" - -Indeed, the avuncular thumb had already pressed the button longer than -was either necessary or polite, and Harry went to the door with -feelings which he had difficulty in concealing as he threw it open. -Uncle Spencer stood without in a stiff attitude and in sombre clerical -attire; he beheld his nephew without the glimmer of a smile on his -funereal, bearded countenance, while his large hand was slow in joining -Harry's, and its pressure perfunctory. - -"So sorry to keep you waiting, but--but I forgot we hadn't a servant," -fibbed Harry to be polite. "Do come in, Uncle Spencer." - -"I thought nobody could be at home," was the one remark with which the -clergyman entered; and Harry sighed as he heard that depressing voice -again. - -The Reverend Spencer Walthew was indeed the survival of a type of -divine now rare in the land, but not by any means yet extinct. His -waistcoat fastened behind his back in some mysterious manner, and he -never smiled. He was the vicar of a semi-fashionable parish in North -London, where, however, he preached in a black gown to empty pews, -while a mixed choir behaved abominably behind his back. As a man he was -neither fool nor hypocrite, but the natural enemy of pleasure and -enthusiasm, and one who took a grim though unconscious satisfaction in -disheartening his neighbour. No two proverbial opposites afford a more -complete contrast than was presented by Mr. Walthew and Mrs. Ringrose; -and yet at the bottom of the brother's austerity there lay one or two -of the sister's qualities, for those who cared to dig deep enough in -such stony and forbidding ground. - -Harry had never taken to his uncle, who had frowned on Lord's and -tabooed the theatre on the one occasion of his spending a part of his -holidays in North London; and Mr. Walthew was certainly the last person -he wanted to see that day. It made Harry Ringrose throb and tingle to -look on the clergyman and to think of his father; they had never been -friendly together; and if one syllable was said against the man who was -down--no matter what he had done--the son of that man was prepared to -make such a scene as should secure an immunity from further insult. But -here Harry was indulging in fears as unworthy as his determination, and -he was afterwards ashamed of both. - -The clergyman began in an inevitable strain, dwelling solemnly on the -blessing of adversity in general, before proceeding to point out that -the particular misfortunes which had overwhelmed Harry and his mother -could not, by any stretch of the imagination, be regarded as -adventitious or accidental, since they were obviously the deliberate -punishment of a justly irate God, and as such to be borne with -patience, meekness, and humility. Harry chafed visibly, thinking of his -innocent mother in the next room; but, to do the preacher justice, his -sermon was a short one, and the practical issue was soon receiving the -attention it deserved. - -"I understand, Henry," said Mr. Walthew, "that you did obtain some -useful and remunerative employment in Africa, which you threw up in -order to come home and enjoy yourself. It is, of course, a great pity -that you were so ill-advised and improvident; but may I ask in what -capacity you were employed, and at what salary?" - -"I don't admit that I was either ill-advised or improvident," cried -Harry, with disrespectful warmth. "I didn't go out to work, but for my -health, and I only worked for the fun of it, and am jolly glad I did -come back to take care of my mother and to work for her. I was tutor in -a Portuguese planter's family, and he gave me seventy pounds a year." - -"And your board?" - -"And my board." - -"It was very good. It is a great deal better than anything you are -likely to get here. How long were you with the planter?" - -"Ten months." - -"Only ten months! You must allow an older head than yours to continue -thinking it is a pity you are not there still. Now, as to money -matters, your father would doubtless cease sending you remittances once -you were earning money for yourself?" - -"No, he sent me fifty pounds last Christmas." - -"Then, at any rate, you have brought enough home to prevent your being -a burden to your mother? Between fifty and a hundred pounds, I take -it?" - -Harry shook his head; it was hot with a shame he would have owned to -anybody in the world but Mr. Walthew. - -"Not fifty pounds?" - -"No." - -"How much, then?" - -"Not a penny!" - -The clergyman opened his eyes and lifted his hands in unaffected -horror. Harry could not help smiling in his face--could not have helped -it if he had stood convicted of a worse crime than extravagance. - -"You have spent every penny--and you smile!" the uncle cried. "You come -home to find your mother at starvation's door--and you smile! You have -spent her substance in--in----" - -"Riot!" suggested Harry wickedly. "Sheer riot and evil living! Oh, -Uncle Spencer, don't look like that; it's not exactly true; but, can't -you see, I had no idea what was going to happen here at home? I thought -I was coming back to live on the fat of the land, and when I'd made my -miserable pile I spent it--like a man, I thought--like a criminal, if -you will. Whichever it was, you must know which I feel now. And -whatever I have done I am pretty badly punished. But at least I mean to -take my punishment like a man, and to work like one, too, at any mortal -thing I can find to do." - -Mr. Walthew looked down his nose at the carpet on which he stood. He -had sense enough to see that the lad was in earnest now, and that it -was of no use to reproach him further with what was past. - -"It seems to me, Henry," he said at length, "that it's a case of -ability rather than of will. You say you are ready to do anything; the -question is--what can you do?" - -"Not many things," confessed Henry, in a humbler voice; "but I can -learn, Uncle Spencer--I will do my best to learn." - -"How old are you, Henry?" - -"Twenty-one." - -Harry was about to add "yesterday," but refrained from making his -statement of fact an appeal for sympathy; for the man in him was coming -steadily to the front. - -"Then you would leave school in the Sixth Form?" - -Harry had to shake his head. - -"Perhaps you were on the Modern Side? All the better if you were!" - -"No, I was not; I left in the form below the Sixth." - -"Then you know nothing about book-keeping, for example?" - -"I wish I did." - -"But you are a fair mathematician?" - -"It was my weakest point." - -The clergyman's expression was more melancholy than ever. "It is a -great pity--a very great pity, indeed," said he. "However, I see -writing materials on the table, and shall be glad if you will write me -down your full name, age, and address." - -Harry sat down and wrote what was required of him in the pretty, rather -scholarly hand which looked like and was the imitation of a prettier -and more scholarly one. Then he unsuspectingly blotted the sheet and -handed it to Mr. Walthew, who instantly began shaking his head in the -most depressing fashion. - -"It is as I feared," said he; "you do not even write a fair commercial -hand. It is well enough at a distance," and he held the sheet at arm's -length, "but it is not too easy to read, and I fear it would never do -in an office. There are several City men among my parishioners; I had -hoped to go to one or two of them with a different tale, but now I -fear--I greatly fear. However, one can but try. You do not fancy any of -the professions, I suppose? Not that you could afford one if you did." - -"Are the fees so high?" asked poor Harry, in a broken-spirited voice. - -"High enough to be prohibitive in your case, though it might not be so -if you had saved your money," the clergyman took care to add. "Of which -particular profession were you thinking?" - -"We--we have been talking it all over, and we did speak of--the Law." - -"Out of the question; it would cost hundreds, and you wouldn't make a -penny for years." - -"Then there is--schoolmastering." - -"It leads to nothing; besides--excuse me, Henry--but do you think you -are scholar enough yourself to--to presume to--teach others?" - -Harry fetched a groan. - -"I don't know. I managed well enough in Mozambique, but it was chiefly -teaching English. I only know that I would work day and night to -improve myself, if once I could get a chance." - -"Well," said Uncle Spencer, "it is just possible that I may hear in my -parish of some delicate or backward boy whom you would be competent to -ground, and if so I shall recommend you as far as I conscientiously -can. But I cannot say I am sanguine, Henry; it would be a different -thing if you had worked harder at school and got into the Sixth Form. I -suppose no other career has occurred to you as feasible? I confess I -find the range sadly restricted by the rather discreditable limitations -to which you own." - -Another career had occurred to Harry, and it was the one to which he -felt most drawn, but by inclination rather than by conscious aptitude, -so that he would have said nothing about it had not Mrs. Ringrose -joined them at this moment. Her brother greeted her with a tepid -salute, then dryly indicated the drift of the conversation, enlarging -upon the vista of hopeless disability which it had revealed in Henry, -and concluding with a repetition of his last question. - -"No," said Harry rather sullenly, "I can think of nothing else I'm fit -for unless I sweep a crossing; and then you would say I hadn't money -for the broom!" - -"But, surely, my boy," cried his mother, "you have forgotten what you -said to me last night?" - -Harry frowned and glared, for it is one thing to breathe your -ridiculous aspirations to the dearest of mothers in the dead of night, -and quite another thing to confide them to a singularly unsympathetic -uncle in broad daylight. But Mrs. Ringrose had turned to her brother, -and she would go on: "There is one thing he tells me he would rather do -than anything else in the world--and I am sure he could do it best." - -"What is that?" - -"Write!" - -Harry groaned. Mr. Walthew raised his eyebrows. Mrs. Ringrose sat -triumphant. - -"Write what, my dear Mary?" - -"Articles--poems--books." - -A grim resignation was given to Harry, and he laughed aloud as the -clergyman shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. - -"On his own showing," said Uncle Spencer, "I should doubt whether he -has--er--the education--for that." - -Mrs. Ringrose looked displeased, and even dangerous, for the moment; -but she controlled her feelings on perceiving that the boy himself was -now genuinely amused. - -"You are quite mistaken," she contented herself with saying. "Have I -never shown you the parody on Gray's Elegy he won a guinea for when he -was fourteen? Then I will now." - -And the fond lady was on her feet, only to find her boy with his back -to the door, and laughter, shame and anger fighting for his face. - -"You shall do no such thing, mother," Harry said firmly. "That -miserable parody!" - -"It was nothing of the kind. It began, 'The schoolbell tolls the -knell----'" - -"Hush, mother!" - -"'Of parting play'" she added wilfully. - -Mr. Walthew's eyebrows had reached their apogee. - -"That is quite enough, Mary," said he. "I disapprove of parodies, root -and branch; they are invariably vulgar; and when the poem parodied has -a distinctly religious tendency, as in this case, they are also -irreverent and profane. I am only glad to see that Henry is himself -ashamed of his lucubration. If he should write aught of a religious -character, and get it into print--a difficult matter, Henry, for one so -indifferently equipped--my satisfaction will not be lessened by my -surprise. Meanwhile let him return to those classics he should never -have neglected, for by the dead languages only can we hope to obtain a -mastery of our own; and I, for my part, will do my best in what, after -all, I regard as a much less hopeless direction. Good-bye, Mary. I -trust that I shall see you both on Sunday." - -But Mrs. Ringrose would not let him go without another word for her -boy's parody. - -"When I read it to Mr. Lowndes," said she, to Harry's horror, "he said -that he thought that a lad who could write so well at fourteen should -have a future before him. So you see everybody is not of your opinion, -Spencer; and Mr. Lowndes saw nothing vulgar." - -"Do I understand you to refer," said Mr. Walthew, bristling, "to the -person who has done me the honour of calling upon me in connection with -your affairs?" - -"He is the only Mr. Lowndes I know." - -"Then let me tell you, Mary, that his is not a name to conjure with in -my hearing. I should say, however, that he is the last person to be a -competent judge of vulgarity or--or other matters." - -"Then you dislike him too?" cried poor Mrs. Ringrose. - -"Do you?" said Mr. Walthew, turning to Harry; and uncle and nephew -regarded one another for the first time with mutually interested eyes. - -"Not I," said Harry stoutly. "He has been my mother's best friend." - -"I am sorry to hear it," the clergyman said; "what's more, I don't -believe it." - -"But he has been and he is," insisted the lady; "you little know what -he has done for me." - -"I wouldn't trust his motives," said her brother. "I am sorry to say -it, Mary; he is very glib and plausible, I know; but--he doesn't strike -me as an honest man!" - -Mrs. Ringrose was troubled and vexed, and took leave of the visitor -with a face as sombre as his own; but as for Harry, he recalled his own -feelings on the journey up, and he felt less out of sympathy with his -uncle than he had ever done in his life before. But Mr. Walthew was not -one to go without an irritating last word, and in the passage he had -his chance. He had remarked on the packing cases, and Harry had dived -into his mother's room and returned with an ostrich egg in each hand, -of which he begged his uncle's acceptance, saying that he would send -them by the parcels post. Mr. Walthew opened his eyes but shook his -head. - -"I could not dream of taking them from you," said he, "in--in your -present circumstances, Henry." - -"But I got them for nothing," said Harry, at once hurt and nettled. "I -got a dozen of them, and any amount of assegais and things, all for -love, when I was on the Zambesi. I should like you and my aunt to have -something." - -"Really I could not think of it; but, if I did, I certainly should not -permit you to incur the expense of parcel postage." - -"Pooh! uncle, it would only be sixpence or a shilling." - -"_Only_ sixpence _or_ a shilling! As if they were one and the same -thing! You talk like a millionaire, Henry, and it pains me to hear you, -after the conversation we have had." - -Harry wilfully observed that he never had been able to study the -shillings, and his uncle stood shocked on the threshold, as indeed he -was meant to be. - -"Then it's about time," said he, "that you did learn to study them--and -the sixpences--and the pence. You were smoking a pipe when I came. I -confess I was surprised, not merely because the habit is a vile one, -for it is unhappily the rule rather than the exception, but because it -is also an extravagant habit. You may say--I have heard young men -say--that it only costs you a few pence a week. Then, pray, study those -few pence--and save them. It is your duty. And as for what you say you -got for nothing, the ostrich eggs and so forth, take them and sell them -at the nearest shop! That also is your bounden duty, unless you wish to -be a burden to your mother in her poverty; and I am very sorry that you -should compel me to tell you so by talking of not 'studying' the -shillings." - -He towered in the doorway, a funereal monument of righteous horror; and -once more Harry held out his hand, and let his elder go with the last -word. The lad realised, in the first place, that he had just heard one -or two things which were perfectly true; and yet, in the second, he was -certain that he could not have replied without insolence--after his own -prior and virtuous resolve to sell the curios himself. Now he never -would sell them--so he felt for the moment; and he found himself -closing the door as though there were illness in the flat, in his -anxiety to keep from banging it as he desired. - -"I fear your Uncle Spencer has been vexing you too," his mother said; -"and yet I know that he will do his best to secure you a post." - -"Oh, that's all right, mother; he was kind enough; it's only his way," -said Harry, for he could see that his mother was sufficiently put out -as it was. - -"It's a way that makes me miserable," said poor Mrs. Ringrose, with a -tear in her voice. "Did you hear what he said to me? He said what I -never shall forgive." - -"Not about those rotten verses?" - -"No--about Mr. Lowndes. Your uncle said he didn't think him an honest -man." - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -THE GAME OF BLUFF. - - -An inscrutable note reached Harry by the last post that night. It was -from Gordon Lowndes, and it ran:-- - - "Leadenhall Street, E.C. - - "May 20. - - "DEAR RINGROSE,--If you are still of the same mind about a matter - which we need not name, let me hear from you by return, and I'll - 'inspan' the best detective in the world. He is at present cooling - his heels at Scotland Yard, but may be on the job again any day, so - why not on ours? - - "Perhaps you will kindly drop me a line in any case, as I await - your instructions. - - "Yours faithfully, - - "GORDON LOWNDES." - -"What is it, my boy?" - -"A line from Lowndes." - -"Am I not to see it?" - -"I would rather you didn't, mother dear." - -"You haven't offended him, I hope?" - -"Oh, no, it's about something we spoke of in the train; it has come to -nothing, that's all." - -And Mrs. Ringrose gathered, as she was intended to gather, that some -iron or other had already been in the fire--and come out again. She -said no more. As for Harry, the final proof of his father's dishonour -had put out of his mind the oath which he had made Lowndes swear in -that almost happy hour when he could still refuse to believe; and the -sting of the reminder, and of the contrast between his feelings then -and now, was such that he was determined his mother should not bear it -with him. But yet, with all the pain it gave, the note from Lowndes -both puzzled and annoyed him; it was as though there were some subtle -thing between the lines, a something in a cipher to which he had not -the key; and he resented being forced to reply. After long -deliberation, however, this was written and rewritten, and taken -stealthily to the pillar in the small hours:-- - - "Kensington, May 21st. - - "DEAR MR. LOWNDES,--I am not of the same mind about the matter - which you very kindly do not name. I hope that neither you nor I - will ever have occasion to name it again, and that you will forgive - me for what I said yesterday before I could believe the truth. I - hardly know now what I did say, but I do honestly apologise, and - only beg of you never to speak, and, if possible, not to think, of - it again. - - "Believe me that I am grateful for your kind offer, and more than - grateful for all your goodness to my mother. - - "Yours sincerely, - - "HARRY RINGROSE." - -This had the effect of bringing Lowndes to the flat the following -afternoon, in the high spirits which were characteristic of the normal -man; it was only natural they should have deserted him the day before; -and yet when Harry came in and found him taking tea with his mother, -radiant, voluble, hilarious, the change was such that he seemed to the -boy another being. Humour shone through the gold-rimmed glasses and -trembled at the tip of the pointed nose. Harry had never seen a jollier -face, or listened to so boisterous a laugh; and they were what he -needed, for he had come in doubly embittered and depressed. - -He had been to the great house which had supplied his mother with her -groceries for so many years. He had seen a member of the firm, a -gentleman of presence and aplomb, in whose courtly company Harry and -his old clothes were painfully outclassed. The resultant and inevitable -repulse was none the less galling from being couched in terms of -perfectly polite condescension. Harry carried his specimen battle-axe -home in the brown paper he had taken it in, and pitched it upon the -sofa with a wry face before recounting his experience. - -Lowndes instantly said that he would get a price for the curios if -Harry would send them along to his office. Whereupon Harry thanked him, -but still looked glum, for a worse experience remained untold. - -The boy was in glaring need of new clothes; he could not possibly seek -work in town as he was; and Mrs. Ringrose had characteristically -insisted that he should go to his father's and his own old London -tailors. There was, moreover, some point in such a course, since it was -now known that Mr. Ringrose had settled his tailors' account, with -several others of the kind, on the very eve of his flight; so that in -the circumstances these people might fairly be expected to wait for -their money until Harry could earn it. Elsewhere he would have to pay -ready cash, a very serious matter, if not an impossibility for some -time to come. So Harry was really driven to go where he was known, but -yet so ashamed, that it was only the miserable interview with the -well-groomed gentleman aforesaid which had brought him to the point. He -had called at the tailors' on his way home, chosen his cloth and been -measured, only to be confronted by the senior partner at the door. - -"What do you think he wanted?" cried Harry in a blaze. "A guarantee -that they would be paid! I told them they needn't trouble to make the -things at all, and out I came." - -Lowndes dashed down his cup and was on his legs in an instant. - -"I'll give them their guarantee," said he. "You swallow your tea and -get your hat; we'll take a hansom back to your tailors, and I'll give -them their guarantee!" - -Harry was against any such intervention, but Mrs. Ringrose was against -Harry, and in less than five minutes Lowndes had carried him off. In -the hansom the spirits of that mirthful man rose higher than ever; he -sat rubbing his hands and chuckling with delight; but so truculent were -his sentiments that Harry, who hated a row as much as his companion -appeared to like one, was not a little nervous as to what would happen, -and got out finally with his heart in his mouth. - -What did happen need not be described. Suffice it that Mr. Lowndes -talked to that master-tailor with extraordinary energy for the space of -about three minutes, and that in several different strains, preparing -his soil with simple reproaches, scarifying with sarcasm, and finally -trampling it down with a weight of well-worded abuse the like of which -Harry had never listened to off the stage. And the effect was more -extraordinary than the cause: the tradesman took it like a lamb, -apologised to Harry on the spot, and even solicited his friend's custom -as they turned to leave the shop. The result opened Harry's mouth in -sheer amazement. After a first curt refusal, Mr. Lowndes hesitated, -fingered a cloth, became gradually gracious, and in the end was -measured for no fewer than three suits and an Inverness cape. - -"Couldn't resist it!" said he, roaring with laughter in the cab. -"Trustfulness is a virtue we should all encourage, and I hope, -Ringrose, that you'll continue to encourage it in these excellent -fellows. I've sown the seed, it's for you to reap the flower; and -recollect that they'll think much more of you when you order six suits -than when you pay for one." - -"It was extraordinary," said Harry, "after the dressing-down you gave -them!" - -"Dressing-down?" said Lowndes. "I meant to dress 'em down, and I'll -dress anybody down who needs it--of that you may be sure. What's this? -Grosvenor Square? Do you see that house with the yellow balcony in the -far corner? That's my Lady Banff's--I gave _her_ a bit of my mind the -other evening. Went to see my Lord on business. Left standing in the -hall twenty minutes. Down came my Lady to dinner, so I just asked her, -as a matter of curiosity, if they took me for a stick or an umbrella, -to leave me there, and then I told her what I thought of the manners -and customs of her house. My Lady had me shown into the library at -once, and made me a handsome apology into the bargain. I guarantee -friend Yellowplush to know better next time!" - -Lowndes stayed to supper at the flat, and he became better and better -company as Harry Ringrose gradually yielded to the contagion of his -gaiety and his good-humour. He was certainly the most entertaining of -men; yet for a long time Harry resented being entertained by him, and -would frown one moment because he had been forced to laugh the moment -before. Nor was this because of anything that had already happened; it -was due entirely to the current behaviour of Gordon Lowndes. The man -took unwarrantable liberties. His status at the flat was rightly that -of a privileged friend, but Harry thought he presumed upon it -insufferably. - -Like many great talkers, Lowndes was a vile listener, who thought -nothing of interrupting Mrs. Ringrose herself; while as for Harry, he -tried more than once to set some African experience of his own against -the visitor's endless anecdotes; but he never succeeded, and for a time -the failures rankled. It was the visitor, again, who must complain of -the supper: the lamb was underdone, the mint sauce too sweet for him, -and the salad dressing which was on the table not to be compared with -the oil and vinegar which were not. These were the things that made -Harry hate himself when he laughed; yet laugh he must; the other's -intentions were so obviously good; and he did not offend Mrs. Ringrose. -She encouraged him to monopolise the conversation, but that without -appearing to attach too much importance to everything he said. And once -when Harry caught her eye, himself raging inwardly, there was an -indulgent twinkle in it which mollified him wonderfully, for it seemed -to say: "These are his little peculiarities; you should not take them -seriously; they do not make him any the less my friend--and yours." It -was this glance which undermined Harry's hostility and prepared his -heart for eventual surrender to the spell of which Gordon Lowndes was -undoubted master. - -"I tell you what, Ringrose," said he, as they rose from the table, "if -you don't get a billet within the next month, I'll give you one -myself." - -"You won't!" cried Harry, incredulously enough, for the promise had -been made without preliminary, and it seemed too good to be possible. - -"Won't I?" laughed Lowndes; "you'll see if I won't! What's more, it'll -be a billet worth half-a-dozen such as that uncle of yours is likely to -get you. What would you say to three hundred for a start?" - -"I knew you were joking," was what Harry said, with a sigh; and his -mother turned away as though she had known it too. - -"I was never more serious in my life," retorted Lowndes. "I'm up to my -chin in the biggest scheme of the century--bar none--though I'm not -entitled to tell you what it is at this stage. It's a critical stage, -Ringrose, but this week will settle things one way or the other. It's -simply a question whether the Earl of Banff will or whether the Earl of -Banff won't, and he's going to answer definitely this week. If he -will--and I haven't the slightest doubt of it in my own mind--the -Company will be out before you know where you are--and you shall be -Secretary----" - -"Secretary!" - -"Be good enough not to interrupt me, Ringrose. You shall be Secretary -with three hundred a year. Not competent? Nonsense; I'll undertake to -make you competent in a couple of hours; but if I say more, you'll know -too much before the time, and I'm pledged to secrecy till we land the -noble Earl. He's a pretty big fish, but I've as good as got him. -However, he's to let us know this week, and perhaps it would be as well -not to raise the wind on that three hundred meanwhile; but it's as good -as in your pocket, Ringrose, for all that!" - -Mrs. Ringrose sat in her chair, without a sound save that of her -knitting needles; and Harry formed the impression that she was already -in the secret of the unmentionable scheme, but that she disapproved of -it. He remarked, however, that he only wished he had known of such a -prospect in time to have mentioned it to his uncle at their interview. - -"Your uncle!" cried Lowndes. "I should like to have seen his face if -you had! I asked him to take shares the other day--told him I could put -him on the best thing of the reign--and it was as good as a pantomime -to see his face. Apart from his religious scruples, which make him -regard the City of London as the capital of a warmer place than -England, he's not what you would call one of Nature's sportsmen, that -holy uncle of yours. He's a gentleman who counts the odds. I wouldn't -trust him in the day of battle. Never till my dying day shall I forget -our first meeting!" - -And Lowndes let out a roar of laughter that might have been heard -throughout the mansions; but Harry looked at his mother, who was -smiling over her knitting, before he allowed himself to smile and to -ask what had happened. - -"Your mother had written to tell him I was going to call," said -Lowndes, wiping the tears from his eyes, "and when I did go he wanted -proof of my identity because I didn't happen to have a card on me. I -suppose he thought I looked a shady cuss, so he took it into his head I -wasn't the real Simon Pure. You see, there's nothing rash about your -uncle; as for me, I burst out laughing in his face, and that made -matters worse. He said he'd want a witness then--a witness to my -identity before he'd discuss his sister's affairs with me. 'All right,' -says I, 'you shall have half a dozen witnesses, for I'll call my -underclothes! There's "Gordon Lowndes" on my shirt and collar--there's -"Gordon Lowndes" on my pants and vest--and if there isn't "Gordon -Lowndes" on both my socks there'll be trouble when I get home,' I told -him; and I was out of my coat and waistcoat before he could stop me. -I'd have gone on, too, but that was enough for your uncle! I can see -him now--it was on his doorstep--but he let me in after that!" - -Harry had a hearty, boyish laugh which it was a pleasure to hear, and -Mrs. Ringrose heard it now as she had not heard it for two years; for -she had shown that the story did not offend her by laughing herself; -and besides, the boy also could see his uncle, with sable arms -uplifted, and this impudent Bohemian coolly stripping on the doorstep. -His innate impudence was brought home to Harry in different fashion a -moment later, when the visitor suddenly complained of the light, and -asked why on earth there was only one gas-bracket in a room of that -size. - -"Because I could not afford more," replied Mrs. Ringrose. - -"Afford them, my dear madam? There should have been no question of -affording them!" cried Gordon Lowndes. "You should have brought what -you wanted from your own house." - -"But it wasn't our own," sighed Mrs. Ringrose; "it belonged to--our -creditors." - -"Your creditors!" echoed Lowndes, with scathing scorn. "It makes me -positively ill to hear an otherwise sensible lady speak of creditors in -that submissive tone! I regard it as a sacred obligation on all of us -to get to windward of our creditors, by fair means or foul. We owe it -to our fellow-creatures who may find themselves similarly situated -to-morrow or next day. If we don't get to windward of our creditors, be -very sure they'll get to windward of us. But to pamper and pet the -enemy--as though they'd dare to say a word about a petty -gas-bracket!--was a perfect crime, my dear Mrs. Ringrose, and one that -showed a most deplorable lack of public spirit. I only wish I'd thought -of your gas-brackets when I was down there the day before yesterday!" - -"Why? What would you have done?" demanded Harry with some heat. - -"Come away with one in my hat!" roared Lowndes. "Come away with the -chandelier next my skin!" - -And he broke into a great guffaw in which Harry Ringrose joined in his -own despite. It was absurd to apply conventional standards to this -sworn enemy of convention. It was impossible to be angry with Gordon -Lowndes. Harry determined to take no further offence at anything he -might say or do, but to follow his mother's tacit example and to accept -her singular friend on her own tolerant terms. Nor was it hard to see -when the lad made amiable resolutions; they flew like flags upon his -face; and Mrs. Ringrose was able to go to bed and to leave the pair -together with an easy mind. - -Whereupon they sat up till long after midnight, and Harry, having -relinquished all thought of entertaining Gordon Lowndes, was himself -undeniably entertained. He had seen something of the world (less than -he thought, but still something), yet he had never met with anybody -half so interesting as Lowndes, who had been everywhere, seen -everything, and done most things, in his time. He had made and lost a -fortune in different companies, the names of which Harry hardly caught, -for they set him speculating upon the new Company which was to make his -own small fortune too. Lowndes, however, refused to be drawn back to -that momentous subject. Nor were all the exploits he recounted of a -financial cast; there were some which Harry would have flatly -disbelieved the day before; but one and all were consistent with the -character of the man as he had seen it since. - -Great names seemed as familiar to him as his own, and, after the scene -at the tailors', Harry could well believe that Mr. Lowndes had heckled -a very eminent politician to his inconvenience, if not to the alleged -extent of altering the entire course of a General Election. He was also -the very man to have defended in person an action for libel, and to -have lost it by the little error of requesting the judge to "be good -enough to hold his tongue." The consequences had been serious indeed, -but Lowndes described them with considerable relish. His frankness was -not the least of his charms as a raconteur. Before he went he had -confessed to one crime at least--that of blackmailing a surgeon-baronet -for a thousand pounds in his own consulting-room. - -"He got a hold of the bell-rope," said Lowndes, "but it was no use his -playing the game of bluff with _me_. I simply laughed in his face. He'd -murdered a poor man's wife--vivisected her, Ringrose--taken her to -pieces like a watch--and he'd got to pay up or be exposed." - -For it was disinterested blackmail, so that even this story was -characteristic if incredible. It illustrated what may be termed an -officious altruism--which Harry had seen operating in his own -behalf--side by side with a perfectly piratical want of principle which -Lowndes took no pains to conceal. It was impossible for an -impressionable young fellow, needing a friend, not to be struck by one -so bluff, so masterful, so kind-hearted, and probably much less -unscrupulous than it pleased him to appear; and it was impossible for -Harry Ringrose not to put the kind heart first, as he came upstairs -after seeing Lowndes into a hansom, and thought how joyfully he would -come up them if he were sure of earning even one hundred a year. - -And Lowndes said three! - -"I am thankful you like him," said Mrs. Ringrose, who was still awake. -"But--we all can see the faults of those we really like--and there's -one fault I do see in Mr. Lowndes. He is so sanguine!" Mrs. Ringrose -might have added that we see those faults the plainest when they are -also our own. - -"Sanguine!" said Harry. "How?" - -"He expects Lord Banff to make up his mind this week." - -"Well?" - -"It has been 'this week' all this year!" - -Harry looked very sad. - -"Then you don't think much of my chances of that--three hundred? I -might have seen you didn't at the time." - -"No, my boy, I do not. Of his will to help you there can be no -question; his ability is another matter; and we must not rely on him." - -"But you say he has helped you so much?" - -"In a different way." - -"Well," said Harry after a pause, "in spite of what you say, he seems -quite sure himself that everything will be settled to-morrow. He has an -appointment with Lord Banff in the afternoon. He wants to see me -afterwards, and has asked me to go down and spend the evening with them -at Richmond." - -Mrs. Ringrose lay conspicuously silent. - -"Who are 'they,' mother?" continued her son. "Somehow or other he is a -man you never associate with a family, he's so complete in himself. Is -he married?" - -"His wife is dead." - -"Then there are children?" - -"One daughter, I believe." - -"Don't you know her?" - -"No; and I don't want to!" cried Mrs. Ringrose. So broke the small -storm which had been brewing in her grave face and altered voice. - -"Why not, mother?" - -"She has never been near me! Here I have been nearly two months, and -she has never called. I shall refuse to see her when she does. The -father can come, but we are beneath the daughter. We are in trouble, -you see! I only hope you'll have very little to say to her." - -"I won't go at all if you'd rather I didn't." - -"No, you must go; but be prepared for a snub--and to snub her!" - -The bitterness of a sweet woman is always startling, and Harry had -never heard his mother speak so bitterly. Her spirit infected him, and -he left her with grim promises. Yet he went to bed more interested than -ever in Gordon Lowndes. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -ON RICHMOND HILL. - - -It was the hour before sunset when Harry Ringrose took the train from -Earl's Court to Richmond, and, referring to an envelope which Lowndes -had given him overnight, inquired his way to Sandringham, Greville -Road, Richmond Hill. Having no experience of suburban London, he was -prepared to find a mansion not absolutely unworthy of its name, and was -rather astonished at having to give that of the road to the policeman -who directed him. He had half expected that officer to look impressed -and say, "Oh, yes, Mr. Lowndes's; the large house on the hill; you -can't mistake it." For though he gathered that Lowndes was only about -to become a millionaire, and that his contempt for creditors was -founded upon some former personal experience of that obnoxious class, -it nevertheless appeared to Harry that his friend must be pretty well -off as it was. At all events, he thought nothing of losing the last -train and driving all this way home. - -Harry had never been in Richmond before, and the picturesque features -with which its narrow streets still abound were by no means lost upon -him. Here a quaint gable, and there a tile roof, sunken and discoloured -with sheer age, reminded him that he was indeed in the old country once -more; and he rejoiced in the fact with a blessed surcease of the pain -and shame with which his home-coming had been fraught. May was in his -blood; and as he climbed the hill the words of the old song, that -another Richmond claims, rang so loud in his head that he had a work to -keep them back from his lips:-- - -"On Richmond Hill there lives a lass, More bright than May-day morn; -Whose charms all other maids' surpass--A rose without a thorn. This -lass so neat, with smiles so sweet, Has won my right good will. I'd -crowns resign to call her mine, Sweet lass of Richmond Hill!" - -The young fellow could not help thinking that it was a lass of Richmond -Hill he was about to meet, and wondering whether her smiles would prove -sweet, and her charms superior to those of all other maids. Harry -Ringrose had never been in love. He had been duly foolish in his callow -day, but that was nothing. From the firm pedestal of one-and-twenty he -could look back, and lay his hand upon his heart, and aver with truth -that it had never been irretrievably lost. Nevertheless, Harry was -quite prepared to lose his heart as soon as ever he realised the ideal -which was graven upon it; or he had been so prepared until the -revelation of these last days had hurled such idle aspirations to the -winds. But, for some reason, the memory of that revelation did not -haunt him this evening; and, accordingly, he was so prepared once more. - -One of the many inconveniences of preconceiving your fate lies in the -nervous feeling that it may be lurking round every corner in the shape -of every woman you are about to meet. Even when he met them Harry was -not always sure. His ideal was apt to be elastic in the face of obvious -charms. It was only the impossibles that he knew at sight, such as the -girl who was climbing the hill ahead of him at this moment. Harry would -not have looked twice at her but for one circumstance. - -She was tall and well-built, on a far larger scale than Harry cared -about, and yet she was continually changing a bag which she carried -from one hand to the other. It was a leather travelling-bag, of no -excessive size, but as she carried it in one hand her body bent itself -the other way; and she never had it in the same hand long. - -The hill was steep and seemed interminable; it was the warm evening of -a hot day; and Harry, slowly overhauling the young woman, might have -seen that she had pretty hair and ears, but he could think of nothing -but her burden and her fatigue. He could not even think of himself and -his ideals, and had so ceased committing his besetting sin. What he did -see, however, was that the girl was a lady, and he heartily wished that -she were not. He longed to carry that bag for her, but he could not -bring himself to offer to do so. He had too much delicacy or too little -courage. - -Irresolutely he slackened his pace; he was ashamed, despite his -scruples, to pass her callously without a word. He was close behind her -now. He heard her breathing heavily. Was there nothing he could say? -Was there no way of putting it without offence? Harry was still -thinking when the knot untied itself. The girl had stopped dead, and -put the bag down with a deep sigh, and Harry had caught it up without -thinking any more. - -"What are you doing?" cried the girl. "Give that back to me at once." - -Her voice was very indignant, but also a little faint; and the note of -alarm with which it began changed to one of authority as she saw that, -at any rate, she was not dealing with a thief. - -"I beg your pardon," said Harry, very red, as he raised his hat with -his unoccupied hand; "but--but you really must let me carry it a little -way for you." - -"I could not dream of it. Will you kindly give it me back this -instant?" - -The girl was now good-humoured but very firm. She also had coloured, -but her lips remained pale with fatigue. And she had very fine, -fearless, grey eyes; but Harry found he could defy them in such a -cause, so that they flashed with anger, and a foot--no very small -one--stamped heartily on the pavement. - -"Did you hear what I said?" - -"I did; but----" - -"Give it to me!" - -"It's so heavy." - -"Give it to me!" - -He was wondering whether the bag was full of jewels, that she was in -such a state about it, when all at once she grabbed at the handle he -still hesitated to relinquish. The bag came open between them--and to -his amazement he saw what it contained. - -Coals! - -A few fell out upon the pavement. Harry stooped, put them in again, and -shut the bag. The young lady had moved away. She was walking on slowly -ahead, and from her shoulders Harry feared that she was crying. He -followed miserably but doggedly with the bag. - -She never looked round, and he never took his eyes from those broad, -quivering shoulders. He felt an officious brute, but he had a certain -fierce consolation too: he had got his way--he had not been beaten by a -woman. And the heaviness of the bag, no longer to be wondered at, was -in itself a justification; he also had changed it from hand to hand, -and that more than once, before they came to the top of the hill. - -Here he followed his leader down a broad turning to the left, and -thence along a smaller road until she stopped before the low wooden -gate of a shabby little semi-detached house. Evidently this was her -destination, and she was waiting for her bag. And now Harry lost -confidence with every step he took, for the girl stood squarely with -her back to the gate, and her eyes were dry but very bright, as though -she meant to give him a bit of her mind before she let him go. - -"You may put it down here." - -Harry did so without a word. - -"Thank you. You are a stranger to Richmond, I think?" - -The thanks had sounded ironical, and the question took Harry aback. The -grey eyes looked amused, and it was the last expression he had expected -in them. - -"How did you know that?" he simply asked. - -"You are too sunburnt for Richmond, and--perhaps--too gallant!" - -"Or officious?" - -Her pleasant tone put him at his ease. - -"No; it was very kind of you, and one good turn deserves another. Were -you looking for any particular road or house?" - -"Yes, for Sandringham, in the Greville Road." - -She stood aside and pointed to the name on the little wooden gate. - -"Why, this is it!" gasped Harry Ringrose. - -"Yes; this is Sandringham," said the girl, with a sort of shamefaced -humour. "No wonder you are disappointed!" - -His eyes came guiltily from the little house with the big name. "Then -are you Miss Lowndes?" he inquired aghast. - -"That is my name--Mr. Ringrose." - -Spoken with the broadest smile, this was the last straw so far as -Harry's manners were concerned. - -"How on earth do you know mine?" cried he. - -"I guessed it in the road." - -"How could you?" - -"How did I know you were a stranger to Richmond?" rejoined Miss -Lowndes. "Anybody could see that you have come from foreign parts; and -I had heard all about you from my father. Besides, I expected you. I -only hoped to get home first with my coals. And to be caught like -this--it's really too bad!" - -"I am awfully sorry," murmured Harry, and with such obvious sincerity -that Miss Lowndes smiled again. - -"I think you may be!" said she. "One may find that stupidity in the -kitchen has run one short of coals at the very moment when they are -wanted most, and the quickest thing may be for one to go oneself and -borrow a few from a friend. But it's hard lines to be caught doing so, -Mr. Ringrose, for all that!" - -So this was the explanation. To Harry Ringrose it was both simple and -satisfying; but before he could say a word Miss Lowndes had changed the -subject abruptly by again pointing to the grand name on the gate. - -"This is another thing I may as well explain for your benefit, Mr. -Ringrose; it is one of my father's little jokes. When he came here he -was so tickled by the small houses with the large names that he -determined to beat his neighbours at their own game. It was all I could -do to prevent him from having 'Buckingham Palace' painted on the gate. -So you are quite forgiven for finding it difficult to believe that this -was the house, and also for upsetting my coals. And now I think we may -shake hands and go in." - -He took with alacrity the fine firm hand which was held out to him, and -felt already at his ease as he followed Miss Lowndes to the steps, -again carrying the bag. By this time, moreover, he had noted and -admired her pretty hair, which was fair with a warm tinge in it, her -rather deep but very pleasant voice, and the clear and healthy skin -which had her father's freshness in finer shades. She was obviously -older than Harry, and stronger-minded as well as less beautiful than -his ideal type. But he had a feeling, even after these few minutes, -which had not come to him in all the hours that he had spent with -Gordon Lowndes. It was the feeling that he had found a real friend. - -But the surprises of the evening were only beginning, for while Harry -contemplated a warped and blistered front door, in thorough keeping -with the poverty-stricken appearance of the house, it was opened by a -man-servant not unworthy of the millionaire of the immediate future. -And yet next moment he found himself in a sitting-room as sordid as the -exterior. The visitor was still trying to reconcile these -contradictions when Miss Lowndes followed him slowly into the room, -reading a telegram as she came. - -"Are you very hungry, Mr. Ringrose?" said she, looking up in evident -anxiety. - -"Not a bit." - -"Because I am afraid my father will not be home for another hour. This -is a telegram from him. He has been detained. But it doesn't seem fair -to ask you to wait so long!" - -"I should prefer it. I shall do myself much better justice in an hour's -time," said Harry, laughing; but Miss Lowndes still appeared to take -the situation seriously, though she also seemed relieved. And her -embarrassment was notable after the way in which she had carried off -the much more trying contretemps in the road. It was as though there -were something dispiriting in the atmosphere of the poky and -ill-favoured house, something which especially distressed its young -mistress; for they sat for some time without a word, while dusk -deepened in the shabby little room; and it was much to Harry's relief -when he was suddenly asked if he had ever seen the view from Richmond -Hill. - -"Never," he replied; "will you show it to me, Miss Lowndes? I have -often heard of it, and I wish you would." - -"It would be better than sitting here," said his companion, "though I'm -afraid you won't see much in this light. However, it's quite close, and -we can try." - -It was good to be in the open air again, but, as Miss Lowndes observed, -it was a pity she had not thought of it before. In the park the shadows -were already deep, and the deer straggling across the broad paths as -they never do till nightfall. A warm glow still suffused the west, and -was reflected in the river beneath, where pleasure-boats looked black -as colliers on the belt of pink. It was the hour when it is dark -indoors but light without, and yellow windows studded the woody levels -while the contour of the trees was yet distinct. Even where the river -coiled from pink to grey the eye could still follow it almost to -Twickenham, a leaden track between the leaves. - -"I only wish it were an hour earlier," added Miss Lowndes when she had -pointed out her favourite landmarks. "Still, it's a good deal -pleasanter here than indoors." She seemed a different being when she -was out of that house; she had been talkative enough since they -started, but now she turned to Harry. - -"Tell me about Africa, Mr. Ringrose. Tell me all the interesting things -you saw and did and heard about while you were out there!" - -Harry caught his breath with pleasure. It was the unconscious fault of -his adolescence that he was more eager to convey than receive; it was -the complementary defect of the quality of enthusiasm which was Harry's -strongest point. He had landed from his travels loaded like a gun with -reminiscence and adventure, but the terrible return to the old home had -damped his priming, and at the new home the future was the one affair -of his own of which he had had time or heart to think. But now the -things came back to him which he had come home longing to relate. He -needed no second bidding from the sympathetic companion at his side, -but began telling her, diffidently at first, then with all his boyish -gusto as he caught and held her interest, the dozen and one experiences -that had been on his tongue three days (that seemed three weeks) ago. - -To talk and be understood--to talk and be appreciated--it was half the -battle of life with Harry Ringrose at this stage of his career. It is -true that he had seen but little, and true that he had done still less, -even in these two last errant years of his. But whatsoever he had seen -or done, that had interested him in the least, he could bring home -vividly enough to anybody who would give him a sympathetic hearing. And -to do so was a deep and a strange delight to him; not, perhaps, -altogether unconnected with mere vanity; but ministering also to a -subtler sense of which the possessor was as yet unconscious. - -And Miss Lowndes listened to her young Othello, an older and more -critical Desdemona, who liked him less for the dangers he had passed -than for his ingenuous delight in recounting them. The talk indeed -interested, but the talker charmed her, so that she was content to -listen for the most part without a word. Meanwhile they were sauntering -farther and farther afield, and at length the new Desdemona was -compelled to tell Othello they must turn. He complied without pausing -in the story. Her next interruption was more serious. - -"Don't you write?" she suddenly exclaimed. - -"Write what?" - -"Things for magazines." - -"I wish I did! The magazine at school was the only one I ever tried my -hand for. Who told you I wrote?" - -"Mrs. Ringrose has shown things to my father, and he thought them very -good. It only just struck me that what you are telling me would make -such a capital magazine sketch. But it was very rude of me to -interrupt. Please go on." - -"No, Miss Lowndes, I've gone on too long as it is! Here have I been -talking away about Africa as though nothing had happened while I was -there; and it's only three days since I landed and found -out--everything!" - -His voice was strangely altered: the shame of forgetting, the pain of -remembering, saddened and embittered every accent. Miss Lowndes, -however, who had so plainly shared his enthusiasm, as plainly shrank -from him in his depression. Harry was too taken up with his own -feelings to notice this. Nor did he feel his companion's silence; for -what was there to be said? - -"You should take to writing," was what she did say, presently. "You -have a splendid capital to draw upon." - -"Do you write?" - -"No." - -"It is odd you should speak of it. There's nothing I would sooner do -for a living--and something I've got to do--only I doubt if I have it -in me to do any good with my pen. I may have the capital, but I -couldn't lay it out to save my life." - -He spoke wistfully, however, as though he were not sure. And now Miss -Lowndes seemed the more sympathethic for her momentary lapse. She was -very sure indeed. - -"You have only to write those things down as you tell them, and I'm -certain they would take!" - -"Very well," laughed Harry, "I'll have a try--when I have time. I -suppose you know what your father promises me?" - -"No, indeed I don't," cried Miss Lowndes. - -"The Secretaryship of this new Company when it comes out!" - -For some moments the girl was silent, and then: "I'd rather see you -writing," she said. - -"But this would mean three hundred a year." - -"I would rather make one hundred by my pen!" - -Harry said that he would, too, as far as liking was concerned, but that -there were other considerations. He added that of course he did not -count upon the Secretaryship, which seemed far too good a thing to be -really within his reach, for it would be many a day before he was worth -three hundred a year in any capacity. Nevertheless, it was very kind of -Mr. Lowndes to have thought of such a thing at all. - -"He is kind," murmured the girl, breaking a silence which had -influenced Harry's tone. And it was a something in her tone that made -him exclaim: - -"He is the kindest man I have ever met!" - -"You really think so?" she cried, wistfully. - -"I know it," said Harry, at once touched and interested by her manner. -"It isn't as if he'd only been kind to me. He was more than kind three -days ago, and--and I didn't take it very well from him at first; but I -shall never forget it now! It isn't only that, however; it's his -kindness to my dear mother that I feel much more; and then--he was my -father's friend!" - -They walked on without a word--they were nearly home now--and this time -Harry thought less of his companion's silence, for what could she say? -But already he felt that he could say anything to her, and "You knew my -father?" broke from him in a low voice. - -"Oh, yes; I knew him very well." - -"He has been here?" said Harry, looking at the semi-detached house with -a new and painful interest as they stopped at the gate. - -"Yes; two or three times." - -"When was the last?" - -But the latch clicked with his words, and Miss Lowndes was hastening up -the path. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -A MILLIONAIRE IN THE MAKING. - - -There was a bright light in the little drawing-room, and Harry made -sure that the master of the house had returned from town. Miss Lowndes -put the question as soon as the door was opened, however, and he heard -the reply as he followed her within. - -"No, miss, not yet." - -"Then who is here?" - -"Mr. Huxtable." - -"Mr. Huxtable--in the drawing-room?" - -"He insisted on waiting, and I thought he might as well wait there as -anywhere." - -Harry thought the man's manner presumptuous, and, looking at him -severely, was actually answered with a wink. Before he had time to -think twice about that, however, Miss Lowndes marched erect into the -drawing-room, and the visitor at her heels became the unwilling witness -of a scene which he never forgot. - -A little bald man had planted himself on the hearthrug, where he stood -trembling like a terrier on the leash, in an attitude of indescribable -truculence and determination. - -"Good evening, young lady!" cried he, in a tone so insolent that Harry -longed to assault him on the spot. - -"Good evening, Mr. Huxtable. Do you wish to speak to me?" - -"No, thank you, miss. Not this time. I've spoken to you often enough -and nothing's come of it. To-night I mean to see your pa. 'E's not come -'ome yet, 'asn't 'e? Then 'ere I stick till 'e does." - -"May I ask what you want with him?" - -"May you arst?" roared Mr. Huxtable. "I like that, I'm blessed if I -don't! Oh, yes, you may arst, young lady, and you may pretend you don't -know; and much good it'll do you! I want my money; that's what _I_ -want. Thirty-eight pound seventeen shillings and fourpence for -butcher-meat delivered at this 'ere 'ouse--that's all _I_ want! If -you've got it 'andy, well and good; and if 'e's got it 'andy when 'e -comes in, well and good again, for 'ere I wait; but if not, I'll -county-court 'im to-morrow, and there's plenty more'll follow my -example. It's a perfect scandal the way this 'ouse is conducted. Not a -coal or a spud, let alone a bit o' meat, are you known to 'ave paid for -this blessed year. It's all over Richmond, and for my part I'm sick of -it. I've been put off and put off but I won't be put off no more. 'Ere -I stick till 'is nibs comes in." - -During the first half of this harangue--considerably lengthened by -pauses during which the tradesman gasped for breath and seemed once or -twice on the verge of apoplexy--Harry Ringrose was on the horns of a -dilemma in the hall. One moment he was within an ace of rushing in and -ejecting the fellow on his own responsibility, and the next he felt it -better to spare his new friend's feelings by making his own escape. But -the butcher had only partly said his say when a latch-key grated in the -door, and Gordon Lowndes entered in time to overhear the most -impertinent part. Shutting the door softly behind him, he stood -listening on the mat, with his head on one side and a very comical -expression on his face. Harry had been tremulous with indignation. -Lowndes merely shook with suppressed amusement; and, handing a heavy -parcel to Harry, entered the room, as the tradesman ceased, in a -perfect glow of good-humour and geniality. - -"Ah! my dear Huxtable, how are you?" cried he. "Delighted to see you; -only hope I haven't kept you very long. You must blame the Earl of -Banff, not me; he kept me with him until after eight o'clock. Not a -word, my dear sir--not one syllable! I know exactly what you are going -to say, and don't wonder at your wishing to see me personally. My dear -Huxtable, I sympathise with you from my soul! How much is it? Thirty or -forty pounds, eh? Upon my word it's too bad! But there again the Earl -of Banff's to blame, and I've a very good mind to let you send in your -account to him. His Lordship has been standing between me and a million -of money all this year, but he won't do so much longer. I think I've -brought him to reason at last. My good Mr. Huxtable, we're on the eve -of the greatest success in modern finance. The papers will be full of -it in about a week's time, and I shall be a rich man. But meanwhile I'm -a poor one--I've put my all on it--I've put my shirt on it--and I'm a -much poorer man than ever you were, Huxtable. Poor men should hang -together, shouldn't they? Then stand by me another week, and I give you -my word I'll stand by you. I'll pay you thirty shillings in the pound! -Fanny, my dear, write Mr. Huxtable an IOU for half as much again as we -owe him; and let him county-court me for _that_ if he doesn't get it -before he's many days older!" - -Mr. Huxtable had made several ineffectual attempts to speak; now he was -left without a word. Less satisfied than bewildered, he put the IOU in -his pocket and was easily induced to accept a couple of the Earl of -Banff's cigars before he went. Lowndes shook hands with him on the -steps, and returned rubbing his own. - -"My dear Ringrose," said he, "I'm truly sorry you should have come in -for this little revelation of our _res angusta_, but I hope you will -lay to heart the object-lesson I have given you in the treatment of -that harmful and unnecessary class known as creditors. There are but -two ways of treating them. One is to kick them out neck-and-crop, and -the other you have just seen for yourself. But don't misunderstand me, -Ringrose! I meant every word I said, and he shall have his thirty -shillings in the pound. The noble Earl has been a difficult fish to -play, but I think I've landed him this time. Yes, my boy, you'll be -drawing your three hundred a year, and I my thirty thousand, before -midsummer; but I'll tell you all about it after supper. Why, bless my -soul, that's the supper you've got in your hands, Ringrose! Take it -from him, Fanny, and dish it up, for I'm as hungry as a coach-load of -hunters, and I've no doubt Ringrose is the same." - -And now Harry understood the trepidation with which Miss Lowndes had -consulted him as to whether they should wait supper for her father, and -her relief on hearing his opinion on the point: there had been no -supper in the house. Lowndes, however, had brought home material for an -excellent meal, of which caviare, a raised pie, French rolls, -camembert, peaches and a pine-apple, and a bottle of Heidsieck, were -conspicuous elements. Black coffee followed, rather clumsily served by -the man-servant, who waited in a dress suit some sizes too small for -him. And after supper Harry Ringrose at last heard something definite -concerning the Company from which he was still assured that he might -count on a certain income of three hundred pounds a year. - -"Last night my tongue was tied," said Lowndes; "but to-night the matter -is as good as settled; and I may now speak without indiscretion. I must -tell you first of all that the Company is entirely my own idea--and a -better one I never had in my life. It is founded on the elementary -principle that the average man gives more freely to a good cause than -to a bad one, but most freely to the good cause out of which he's -likely to get some change. He enjoys doing good, but he enjoys it most -when it pays him best, and there you have the root of the whole matter. -Only hit upon the scheme which is both lucrative and meritorious, which -gives the philanthropist the consolation of reward, and the -money-grubber the kudos of philanthropy, and your fortune's made. You -may spread the Gospel or the Empire, and do yourself well out of -either; but, for my part, I wanted something nearer home--where charity -begins, Ringrose--and it took me years to hit upon the right thing. -Ireland has been my snare: to ameliorate the Irish peasant and the -English shareholder at the same swoop: it can't be done. I wasted whole -months over the Irish Peasants' Potato Produce Company, but it wouldn't -pan out. Nobody will put money into Ireland, and potatoes are cheap -already as the dirt they grow in. But I was working in the right -direction, and the crofter grievances came as a godsend to me about a -year ago. The very thing! I won't trouble you with the intermediate -stages; the Highland Crofters' Salmon and Trout Supply Association, -Limited, will be registered this week; and the greatest of Scottish -landlords, my good old Earl of Banff, is to be Chairman of Directors -and rope in all the rest." - -Harry asked how it was to be made to pay. Lowndes had every detail at -his finger-ends, and sketched out an amazing programme with bewildering -volubility. The price of salmon would be reduced a hundred per cent. -The London shops would take none but the Company's fish. Fresh trout -would sell like herrings in the street, and the Company would buy up -the fishmongers' shops all over the country, just as brewers bought up -public-houses. As soon as possible they would have their own line to -the North, and expresses full of nothing but fish would do the distance -without stopping in time hitherto unprecedented in railway annals. - -"But," said Harry, "there are plenty of fish in the sea, and in other -places besides the Highlands." - -"So there are, but in ten years' time we shall own every river in the -kingdom, and every cod-bank round the coast." - -"And where will the crofters come in then?" - -Lowndes roared with laughter. - -"They won't come in at all. It will be forgotten that they ever were -in: the original Company will probably be incorporated with the British -Fresh Water and Deep Sea Fishing Company, Limited. Capital ten -millions. General Manager, Sir Gordon Lowndes, Bart., Park Lane, W. -Secretary, H. Ringrose, Esq., at the Company's Offices, Trafalgar -Square. We shall buy up the Grand Hotel and have them there. As for the -crofters, they'll be our Empire and our Gospel; we'll play them for all -they're worth in the first year or two, and then we'll let them slide." - -Miss Lowndes had been present all this time, and Harry had stolen more -than one anxious glance in her direction. She never put in a word, nor -could she be said to wear her thoughts upon her face, as she bent it -over some needlework in the corner where she sat. Yet it was the -daughter's silent presence which kept Harry himself proof for once -against the always contagious enthusiasm of the father. He could not -help coupling it with other silences of the early evening, and the -Highland Crofters' Salmon and Trout Supply Association, Limited, left -him as cold as he felt certain it left Miss Lowndes. It was now after -eleven, however, and he rose to bid her good-night, while Lowndes went -to get his hat in order to escort him to the station. - -"And I shall never forget our walk," added Harry, and unconsciously -wrung her hand as though it were that of some new-found friend of his -own sex. - -"Then don't forget my advice," said Miss Lowndes, "but -write--write--write--and come and tell me how you get on!" - -It was her last word to him, and for days to come it stimulated Harry -Ringrose, like many another remembered saying of this new friend, -whenever he thought of it. But at the time he was most struck by her -tacit dismissal of the more brilliant prospects which had been -discussed in her hearing. - -"A fine creature, my daughter," said Lowndes, on the way to the -station. "She's one to stand by a fellow in the day of battle--she's as -staunch as steel." - -"I can see it," Harry answered, with enthusiasm. - -"Yes, yes; you have seen how it is with us, Ringrose. There's no use -making a secret of it with you, but I should be sorry for your mother -to know the hole we've been in, especially as we're practically out of -it. Yet you may tell her what you like; she may wonder Fanny has never -been to see her, but she wouldn't if she knew what a time the poor girl -has had of it! You've no conception what it has been, Ringrose. I -couldn't bear to speak of it if it wasn't all over but the shouting. -To-night there was oil in the lamps, but I shouldn't like to tell you -how many times we've gone to bed in the dark since they stopped our -gas. You may keep your end up in the City, because if you don't you're -done for, but it's the very devil at home. We drank cold water with our -breakfast this morning, and I can't conceive how Fanny got in coals to -make the coffee to-night." - -Harry could have told him, but he held his tongue. He was trying to -reconcile the present tone of Lowndes, which had in it a strong dash of -remorse, with the countless extravagances he had already seen him -commit. Lowndes seemed to divine his thoughts. - -"You may wonder," said he, "how I managed to raise wind enough for the -provender I had undertaken to bring home. I wonder if I dare tell you? -I called at your tailors' on my way to the noble Earl's, and--and I -struck them for a fiver! There, there, Ringrose, they'll get it back -next week. I've lived on odd fivers all this year, and I simply didn't -know where else to turn for one to-day. Yet they want me to pay an -income tax! I sent in my return the other day, and they sent it back -with 'unsatisfactory' written across my writing. So _I_ sent it back -with 'I entirely agree with you' written across theirs, and that seems -to have shut them up. One of the most pestilent forms of creditor is -the tax gatherer, and the income tax is the most iniquitous of all. -Never you fill one in correctly, Ringrose, if you wish me to remain -your friend." - -"But," said Harry, as they reached the station and were waiting for the -train, "you not only keep servants----" - -"Servants?" cried Lowndes. "We have only one, and she's away at the -seaside. I send her there for a change whenever she gets grumpy for -want of wages. I tell her she looks seedy, and I give her a sovereign -to go. It has the air of something thrown in, and it comes a good deal -cheaper than paying them their wages, Ringrose. I make you a present of -the tip for what it's worth." - -"But you have a man-servant, too?" - -"A man-servant! My good fellow, that's no servant of mine. I only make -it worth his while to lend a hand." - -"Who is he, then?" - -"This is your train; jump in and I'll tell you." - -The spectacled eyes were twinkling, and the sharp nose twitching, when -Harry leant out of the third-class carriage window. - -"Well, who is it?" - -"The old dodge, Ringrose, the old dodge." - -"What's that?" - -"The Man in Possession!" - -And Gordon Lowndes was left roaring with laughter on the platform. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -THE CITY OF LONDON. - - -It was a considerably abridged version of his visit to Richmond which -Mrs. Ringrose received from her son. Gordon Lowndes had indeed given -Harry free leave to tell his mother what he liked, but not even to her -could the boy bring himself to repeat all that he had seen and heard. -He preferred to quote the frank admissions of Lowndes himself, and that -with reticence and a definite object. It was Harry's ambition to remove -his mother's bitterness against the young woman who had never been to -see her; and, by explaining the matter as it had been explained to him, -he easily succeeded, since Mrs. Ringrose would have sympathised and -sorrowed with her worst enemy when that enemy was in distress. In -uprooting one prejudice, however, her son went near to planting another -in its stead. - -"I only hope, my boy, that you are not going to fall in love with her." - -"Mother!" - -"She seems to have made a deep impression on you." - -"But not that sort of impression! She is a fine creature, I can see, -and we got on capitally together. We shall probably become the best of -friends. But you need have no fears on any other score. Why, she must -be ever so much older than I am." - -"She is twenty-seven. He told me so." - -"There you are! Twenty-seven!" cried Harry, triumphantly. - -But it was not a triumph he enjoyed. Twenty-seven seemed a great age to -him, and six years an impassable gulf. Doubtless it was just as well, -especially when a person did not in the least resemble another person's -ideal; still, he had not supposed she was so old as that. He wished he -had not been told her age. Certainly it gave him a sense of safety, -just as he was beginning to wonder what the view would be like from -Richmond Hill to-day. But it was a little dull to feel so safe as all -that. - -This was the day on which Harry Ringrose had intended to pack up his -African curios and send them off to Lowndes's office. But, after the -conversation of which the above was a snatch, his mother charged him to -do nothing of the kind. If Mr. Lowndes was in such difficulties, it was -certainly not their place to add to them by claiming further favours at -his hands. Harry agreed, but said the idea had originated with Lowndes -himself. His mother was firm on the point, and counselled him either to -sell his own wares or to listen to her and give up the idea. - -So Harry haunted the Kensington Public Library, and patiently waited -his turn for such journals as the _Exchange and Mart_. But it was in an -evening paper that he came across the advertisement which brought the -first grist to his mill. A lady in a suburb guaranteed good prices for -secondhand books, left-off jewellery, and all kinds of bric-à-brac and -"articles of vertu," and inserted her advertisement in places as -original as itself. It caught Harry's eye more than once before the -idea occurred to him; but at length he made his way to that suburb with -a pair of ostrich eggs, an assegai, and a battle-axe studded with -brass-headed nails. He came back with a basket of strawberries, a pot -of cream, and several shillings in his pocket. Next evening a -post-office order to the amount of that first-class fare to London was -remitted to Gordon Lowndes, while a new silk hat hung on the pegs, to -give the boy a chance in the City. All that now remained of the curios -were one pair of ostrich eggs and a particularly murderous tomahawk, -with which Harry himself chopped up the empty packing-cases to save in -firewood. - -So a few days passed, and the new clothes came home, and Harry Ringrose -was externally smart enough for the Stock Exchange itself, before the -first letter came from Uncle Spencer. He had spoken to several of the -business men among his congregation, but, he regretted to say, with but -little result so far. Not that this had surprised him, as conscience -had of course forbidden him to represent his nephew as other than he -was in respect of that training and those qualifications in which Harry -was so lamentably deficient. He understood that for every vacant post -there were some hundreds of applicants, all of whom could write -shorthand and keep books, while the majority had taken the trouble to -master at least one foreign language. Harry had probably learned French -at school, but doubtless he had wasted his opportunities in that as in -other branches. Shorthand, however, appeared to be the most essential -requirement, and, as it was unfortunately omitted from the -public-school curriculum, Mr. Walthew was sending Harry a "Pitman's -Guide," in the earnest hope that he would immediately apply himself to -the mastery of this first step to employment and independence. -Meanwhile, one gentleman, whose name and address were given, had said -that he would be glad to see Henry if he cared to call, and of course -it was just possible that something might come of it. Henry would -naturally leave no stone unturned, and would call on this gentleman -without delay. Uncle Spencer, however, did not fail to add that he was -not himself sanguine of the result. - -"He never is," said Harry. "What's the good of going?" - -"You must do what your uncle says," replied Mrs. Ringrose, to whom the -letter had been written. - -"But what's the good if he's given me away beforehand? He will have -told the fellow I can't even write an office fist, and am generally no -use, so why should he take me on? And if the fellow isn't going to take -me on, why on earth should I go and see him?" - -Mrs. Ringrose pointed out that this was begging the question, and -reminded Harry that his Uncle Spencer took a pessimistic view of -everything. She herself then went to the opposite extreme. - -"I think it an excellent sign that he should want to see you at all, -and I feel sure that when he does see you he will want to snap you up. -What a good thing you have your new clothes to go in! Your uncle -doesn't say what the business is, but I am quite convinced it has -something to do with Africa, and that your experience out there is the -very thing they want. So be sure that you agree to nothing until we -have talked it over." - -Harry spent a few minutes in somewhat pusillanimous contemplation of -the Pitman hieroglyphs, wondering if he should ever master them, and -whether it would help him so very much if he did. It was not that he -was afraid of work, for he only asked to be put into harness at once -and driven as hard as they pleased. But it was a different matter to be -told first to break oneself in; and to begin instantly and in earnest -and alone required a higher order of moral courage than Harry could -command just then. - -But he went into the City that same forenoon, and he saw the gentleman -referred to in his uncle's letter. The interview was not more -humiliating than many another to which Harry submitted at the same -bidding; but it was the first, and it hurt most at the time. No sooner -had it begun than Harry realised that he had no clue as to the -relations subsisting between Mr. Walthew and the man of business, nor -yet as to what had passed between them on the subject of himself, and -he saw too late that he had allowed himself to be placed in a -thoroughly false position. It looked, however, as though the clergyman -had been less frank than he professed, for Harry was put through a -second examination, and his admissions received with the most painful -tokens of surprise. He was even asked for a specimen of his -handwriting, which self-consciousness made less legible than ever; in -the end his name was taken, "in case we should hear of anything," and -he was bowed out with broken words of gratitude on his lips and bitter -curses in his heart. - -He went home vowing that he never would submit to that indignity again: -yet again and again he did. - -Mr. Walthew was informed of the result of the interview which he had -instigated, and wrote back to say how little it surprised him. But he -mentioned another name and another address, and, in short, sent his -nephew hat-in-hand to some half-dozen of his friends and acquaintances, -none of whom showed even a momentary inclination to give the lad a -trial. Harry did not blame them, but he did blame his uncle for making -him a suppliant in one unlikely quarter after another. Yet he never -refused to go when it came to the point; for, though a week slipped by -without his learning to write a line of shorthand, Harry Ringrose had -character enough not to neglect a chance--no matter how slight--for -fear of a rebuff--no matter how brutal. - -Yet he never forgot the exquisite misery of those unwarrantable begging -interviews: the excitement of seeking for the office in the swarming, -heated labyrinth of the City--the depression of the long walk home with -another blank drawn from the bag. How he used to envy the smart youths -in the short black jackets and the shiny hats--all doing something--all -earning something! And how stolidly he looked the other way when in one -or two of those youths he recognised a schoolfellow. How could he face -anybody he had ever known before?--an idler, a pauper, and disgraced. -They would only cut him as he had been cut that first morning on his -way to the old home; therefore he cut them. - -But one day he was forced to break this sullen rule: his arm was -grabbed by the man he had all but passed, and a sallow London face -compelled his recognition. - -"You're a nice one, Ringrose!" said a voice with the London twang. "Is -it so many years since you shared a cabin on a ship called the -_Sobraon_, with a chap of the name of Barker?" - -"I'm awfully sorry," cried Harry with a blush. "You--I wasn't looking -for any one I knew. How are you, Barker?" - -"Oh, as well as a Johnny can be in this hole of a City. Thinking of -knocking up again and getting the gov'nor to send me another long -voyage. I'm not a man of leisure like you, Ringrose. What brings _you_ -here?" - -"Oh, I've only been to see a man," said Harry, without technical -untruth. - -"I pictured you loafin' about that rippin' old place in the photos you -used to have up in our cabin. Not gone to Oxford yet, then?" - -"No--the term doesn't begin till October. But----" Harry tried to tell -the truth here, but the words choked him, and the moment passed. - -"Not till October! Four clear months! What a chap you are, Ringrose; it -makes me want to do you an injury, upon my Sam it does. Look at me! At -it from the blessed week after I landed--at it from half-past nine to -six, and all for a measly thirty-five bob a week. How would you like -that, eh? How would you like that?" - -Harry's mouth watered, but he said he didn't know, and contrived to -force another smile as he held out a trembling hand. - -"Got to be going, have you?" said the City youth. "I thought you -bloated Johnnies were never in a hurry? Well, well, give a poor devil a -thought sometimes, cooped up at a desk all day long. Good-bye--you -lucky dog!" - -The tears were in Harry's eyes as he went his way, yet the smile was -still upon his lips, and it was grimly genuine now. If only the envious -Barker knew where the envy really lay! How was it he did not? To the -conscious wretch it was a revelation that all the world was not -conversant with his disappointment and his disgrace. - -To think that he had talked of going up to Oxford next term! It had -never been quite decided, and he blushed to think how he must have -spoken of it at sea. Still more was he ashamed of his want of common -pluck in pretending for a moment that he was going up still. - -"'Pluck lost, all lost,'" he thought, remorsefully; "and I've lost it -already! Oh, what would Innes think of me, for carrying his motto in my -heart when I don't need it, and never acting on it when I do!" - -That night he wrote it out on the back of a visiting card, and tacked -the tiny text to the wall above his bed:-- - -"MONEY LOST--LITTLE LOST HONOUR LOST--MUCH LOST PLUCK LOST--ALL LOST." - -And his old master's motto sent Harry Ringrose with a stout heart on -many another errand to the City, and steeled and strengthened him when -he came home hopeless in the evening. Yet it was very, very hard to -live up to; and many also were the unworthy reactions which afflicted -him in those dark summer days, that he had expected to be so free from -care, and so full of happiness. - - * * * * * - -One afternoon he crept down from a stockbroker's office, feeling -smaller than ever (for that stockbroker had made the shortest work yet -of him), to see a man selling halfpenny papers over a placard that -proclaimed "extraordinary scoring at Lord's." A spirit of recklessness -came over Harry, and buying a paper was but the thin end of his -extravagance. A minute later he had counted his money and found enough -to take him to St. John's Wood and into the ground; and it was still -the money that he had obtained for his curios; and town was intolerable -with that sinister London heat which none feel more than your seasoned -salamander from the tropics. Harry's new clothes were sticking to him, -and he thought how delicious it would be at Lord's. To think was to -argue. What was sixpence after all? He had had no lunch, and that would -have cost him sixpence more or less; he would do without any lunch, and -go to Lord's instead. - -It was delicious there, and Harry was so lucky as to squeeze into a -seat. Quite a breeze, undreamt of in the City, blew across the ground, -blowing the flannels of the players against their bodies and fetching -little puffs of dust from the pitch. The wicket was crumbling, the long -scores of the morning were at an end. It was only the tail of the -Middlesex team that Harry was in time to see batting, but they were -good enough for him. All his life he had nourished a hopeless passion -for the game, and every care was forgotten until the last man was out. - -"Why--Harry?" - -He had been looking at the pitch, and he spun round like an arrested -criminal. Yet the strong hand on his shoulder was also delicate and -full of kindness, and he was gazing into the best face he had ever -seen. His ideal woman he was still to find, but his ideal man he had -loved and worshipped from his twelfth year; and here he stood, supple -and athletic as ever, only slimmer and graver; and their hands were -locked. - -"Mr. Innes!" - -"I had no idea you were in England, Harry." - -"I have been back three weeks." - -"Why didn't you write?" - -He knew everything. Harry saw it in the kind, strong face, and heard it -in a voice rich with sympathy and reproach. - -"I was too ashamed," he murmured--and he hung his head. - -"You might have trusted me, old fellow," said Mr. Innes. "Come and sit -on top of the pavilion and tell me all about yourself." - -At any other time it would have been a sufficient joy to Harry Ringrose -to set foot in that classic temple of the sacred game; now he had eyes -for nothing and nobody but the man who led him up the steps, through -the cricketing throng, up the stairs. And when they sat together on -top, and the ground was cleared, and play resumed, not another ball did -Harry watch with intelligent eyes. He was sitting with the man to whom -he had been too proud to write, but whose disciple he had been at heart -for many a year. He was talking to the object of his early -hero-worship, and he found him his hero still. - -Mr. Innes listened attentively, gravely, but said very little himself. -He appreciated the difficulty of starting in life without money or -influence, and was too true a friend to make light of it. He thought -that business would be best if only an opening could be found. -Schoolmastering led to nothing unless one had money or a degree. Still -they must think and talk it over, and Harry must come down to Guildford -and see the new chapel and the swimming-bath. Could he come for a day -or two before the end of the term? Was he sure he could leave his -mother? Harry was quite sure, but would write when he got home. - -Then it was time for Mr. Innes to go, but first he gave Harry tea in -the members' dining-room, and after that a lift in his hansom as far as -Piccadilly. So that Harry reached home both earlier and in better case -than he might have done; whereupon Mrs. Ringrose, hearing his key in -the latch, came out to meet him with a face of mystery which contrasted -oddly with his radiance. - -"Oh, mother," he cried, "whom do you think I've seen! Innes! Innes! and -he's the same as ever, and wants me to go and stay with him, so you -were right, and I was wrong! What is it then? Who's here?" His voice -sank in obedience to her gestures. - -"Your Uncle Spencer," she whispered, tragically. - -"Delighted to see him," cried Harry, who had been made much too happy -by one man to be readily depressed by any other. - -"He has been waiting to see you since five o'clock, my boy." - -"Has he? Very sorry to hear that, uncle," said Harry, bursting into the -sitting-room and greeting the clergyman with the heartiness he was -feeling for all the world. Mr. Walthew looked at his watch. - -"Since a quarter before five, Mary," said he, "and now it wants seven -minutes to six. Not that I shall grudge the delay if it be attributable -to the only cause I can imagine to account for it. The circumstances, -Henry, are hardly those which warrant levity; if you have indeed been -successful at last, as I hope to hear----" - -"Successful, uncle?" - -"I understand that you have been to see the gentleman on the Stock -Exchange, who was kind enough to say that he would see you, and of whom -I wrote to you yesterday?" - -"So I have! I had quite forgotten that." - -"Forgotten it?" cried Mr. Walthew. - -"I beg your pardon, Uncle Spencer," said Harry, respectfully enough; -"but since I saw your friend I have been with Mr. Innes my old -schoolmaster, the best man in the whole world, and I am afraid it has -put the other interview right out of my head." - -"He did give you an interview, however?" - -"Yes, for about a minute." - -"And nothing came of it, as usual?" sneered the clergyman. - -"And nothing came of it--as usual--I am very sorry to say, Uncle -Spencer." - -"And what time was this?" - -"Between two and three." - -"You must excuse me, Henry, but I am doing my best to obtain employment -for you--I cannot say I have much hope now--still, I am doing my best, -and I am naturally interested in the use you make of your time. May I -ask--as I think I have a right to ask--where you have spent the -afternoon?" - -"Certainly, Uncle Spencer; at Lord's Cricket-ground." - -Harry was well aware that he had delivered a bombshell, and he quite -expected to receive a broadside in return. But he had forgotten Uncle -Spencer's mode of expressing superlative displeasure. It has been said -that Mr. Walthew never smiled, but there were occasions when a weird -grin shed a sort of storm-light on his habitual gloom. That was when -indignation baffled invective, and righteous anger fell back on holy -scorn. The present was an occasion in point. - -Mr. Walthew stared at Harry without a word, but gradually this unlovely -look broke out upon him, and at last he positively chuckled in his -beard. - -"You are out of work, and too incompetent to obtain any," said he, "and -yet you can waste your own time and your mother's money in watching a -cricket-match!" - -"I went without my lunch in order to do so," was Harry's defence. "And -besides, it was my money--I got it for my spears and things." - -"And you call that your money?" cried Uncle Spencer. "I would not talk -about my money until I was paying for my board and residence under this -roof!" - -"Now, that will do!" cried Mrs. Ringrose. "That is my business, -Spencer, and I will not allow you to speak so to my boy." - -"Come, come, mother," Harry interrupted, "my uncle is quite right from -his point of view. I admit I had qualms about going to Lord's myself. -But I think I must have been meant to go--I know there was some meaning -in my meeting Innes." - -"If anything could surprise me in you, Henry," resumed Mr. Walthew, "it -would be the Pagan sentiments which you have just pained me by -uttering. May you live to pray forgiveness for your heresy, as also for -your extravagance! But of the latter I will say no more, though I -certainly think, Mary, that where my assistance has been invoked I have -a right to speak my mind. The waste of money is, however, even less -flagrant, in my opinion, than the waste of time. It is now several -days, Henry, since I sent you a guide to shorthand. An energetic and -conscientious fellow, as anxious as you say you are to work for his -daily bread, could have mastered at least the rudiments in the time. -Have you?" - -"I told you he had not!" cried Mrs. Ringrose. "How can you expect it, -when every day he has been seeking work in the City? And he comes in so -tired!" - -"Not too tired to go to Lord's Cricket-ground, however," was the not -unjust rejoinder. "But perhaps his energy has found another outlet? -Last time I was here he was going to write articles and poems for the -magazines--so I understood. How many have you written, Henry?" - -Harry scorned to point out that it was his mother's words which were -being quoted against him, not his own; yet ever since his evening at -Richmond he had been meaning to try his hand at something, and he felt -guilty as he now confessed that he had not written a line. - -"I was sure of it!" cried the clergyman. "You talk of getting -employment, but you will not take the trouble to qualify yourself for -the humblest post; you talk of writing, but you will not take the -trouble even to write! Not that I suppose for a moment anything would -come of it if you did! The magazines, Henry, do not open their columns -to young fellows without literary training, any more than houses of -business engage clerks without commercial education or knowledge. Yet -it would be something even if you tried to write! It would be something -if you wrote--as probably you would write--for the waste-paper basket -and the dust-bin. But no, you seem to have no application, no energy, -no sense of duty; and what more I can do for you I fail to see. I have -written several letters on your account; I have risked offending -several friends. Nothing has come of it, and nothing is likely to come -of it until you put your own shoulder to the wheel. I have put mine. I -have done _my_ best. My conscience is an easy one, at any rate." - -Mr. Walthew caught up his hat and brought these painful proceedings to -a close by rising abruptly, as though his feelings were too much for -him. Mrs. Ringrose took his hand without a word, and without a word -Harry showed him out. - -"So his conscience is easy!" cried the boy, bitterly. "He talks as if -that had been his object--to ease his conscience--not to get me work. -He has sent me round the City like a beggar, and he calls that doing -his best! I had a good mind to tell him what I call it." - -"I almost wish you had," said Mrs. Ringrose, shedding tears. - -"No, mother, there was too much truth in what he says. I have been -indolent. Nevertheless, I believe Innes will get me something to do. -And meanwhile I intend to have my revenge on Uncle Spencer." - -"How, my boy?" - -Harry had never looked so dogged. - -"By getting something into a magazine within a week." - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -A FIRST OFFENCE. - - -When Harry Ringrose vowed that he would get something into a magazine -within a week, he simply meant that he would write something and get it -taken by some editor. But even so he had no conception of the odds -against him. Few beginners can turn out acceptable matter at a day's -notice, and fewer editors accept within the week. Fortune, however, -often favours the fool who rushes in. - -Harry began wisely by deciding to make his first offering poetical, for -verses of kinds he had written for years, and besides, they would come -quicker if they came at all. Undoubted indolence is also discernible in -this choice, but on the whole it was the sound one, and that very -evening saw Harry set to work in a spirit worthy of a much older -literary hand. - -He found among the books the selected poems of Shelley which he had -brought home some mid-summers before as a prize for his English -examination. His own language was indeed the only one for which poor -Harry had shown much aptitude, though for a youth who had scribbled for -his school magazine, and formed the habit of shedding verses in his -thirteenth year, he was wofully ill-read even in that. Let it be -confessed that he took down his Shelley with the cynical and shameless -intention of seeking what he might imitate in those immortal pages. The -redeeming fact remains that he read in them for hours without once -recalling his impious and immoral scheme. - -It was years since he had dipped into the book, and its contents caused -him naive astonishment. He had read a little poetry in his desultory -way. Tennyson he loved, and Byron he had imitated at school But in all -his adventurings on the Ægean seas of song, he had never chanced upon -such a cluster of golden islets as the lyrics in this selection. The -epic mainland had always less attraction for him. He found it demand a -concentrative effort, and Harry was very sorry and even ashamed, but he -loved least to read that way. So he left "Alastor" and "The Witch of -Atlas" untouched and untried, and spent half the night in ecstasies -over such discoveries as the "Indian Serenade" and "Love's Philosophy." -These were the things for him; the things that could be written out on -half a sheet of notepaper or learnt in five minutes; the things he -loved to read, and would have died to write. - -He forgot his proposed revenge; he forgot his uttered vow. He forgot -the sinister design with which he had taken up his Shelley, and it was -pure love of the lines that left him, when he had blown out his candle, -saying his last-learnt over to himself: - - "Rarely, rarely, comest thou, - Spirit of Delight! - Wherefore hast thou left me now - Many a day and night? - Many a weary night and day - 'Tis since thou art fled away. - - How shall ever one like me - Win thee back again? - With the joyous and the free - Thou wilt scoff at pain. - Spirit false! thou hast forgot - All but those who need thee not. - - As a lizard with the shade - Of a trembling leaf, - Thou with sorrow art dismayed----" - -Here he stuck fast and presently fell asleep, to think no more of it -till he was getting up next morning. He was invaded with a dim -recollection of this poem while the water was running into his bath. As -he took his plunge, the lines sprang out clear as sunshine after rain, -and the man in the bath made a discovery. - -They were not Shelley's lines at all. They were his own. - -At breakfast he was distraught. Mrs. Ringrose complained. Harry pulled -out an envelope, made a note first, and then his apology. Mrs. Ringrose -returned as usual to her room, but Harry did not follow her with his -pipe. He went to his own room instead, and sat down on the unmade bed, -with a pencil, a bit of paper, and a frightful furrow between his -downcast eyes. In less than half-an-hour, however, the thing was done: -a highly imitative effort in the manner of those verses which he had -been saying to himself last thing the night before. - -The matter was slightly different: the subject was dreams, not delight, -and instead of "Spirit of Delight," the dreams were apostrophised as -"Spirits of the Night." Then the form of the stanza was freshened up a -little: the new poet added a seventh line, rhyming with the second and -fourth, while the last word of the fifth was common to all the stanzas, -and necessitated a new and original double-rhyme in the sixth line of -each verse. Harry found a rhyming dictionary (purchased in his -school-days for the benefit of the school magazine) very handy in this -connection. It was thus he made such short work of his rough draft. But -the fair copy was turned out (in the sitting-room) in even quicker -time, and a somewhat indiscreet note written to the Editor of _Uncle -Tom's Magazine_, though not on the lines which Mrs. Ringrose had once -suggested. A "stamped directed envelope" was also prepared, and -enclosed in compliance with _Uncle Tom's_ very explicit "Notice to -Contributors." Then Harry stole down and out, and posted his missive -with a kind of guilty pride: after all, the deed itself had been a good -deal less cold-blooded than the original intention. - -Mrs. Ringrose knew nothing. She had seen Harry scribble on an envelope, -and that was all. She knew how the boy blew hot and cold, and she did -him the injustice of concluding he had renounced his vow, but the -kindness of never voicing her conclusion. Yet his restless idleness, -and a something secretive in his manner, troubled her greatly during -the next few days, and never more than on the Saturday morning, when -Harry came in late for breakfast and there was a letter lying on his -plate. - -"You seem to have been writing to yourself," said Mrs. Ringrose, as she -looked suspiciously from Harry to the letter. - -"To myself?" he echoed, and without kissing her he squeezed round the -table to his place. - -"Yes; that's your writing, isn't it? And it looks like one of my -envelopes!" - -It was both. Harry stood gazing at his own superscription, and weighing -the envelope with his eye. He was afraid to feel it. It looked too thin -to contain his verses. It was too thin! Between finger and thumb it -felt absolutely empty. He tore it open, and read on a printed slip the -sweetest words his eyes had ever seen. - -"The Editor of _Uncle Tom's Magazine_ has great pleasure in accepting -for publication----" - -The title of the verses (a very bad one) was filled in below, the date -below that, and that was all. - -"Oh, mother, they've accepted my verses!" - -"Who?" - -"_Uncle Tom's Magazine._" - -"Did you actually send some verses to _Uncle Tom_?" - -"Yes, on Tuesday, the day after Uncle Spencer was here. I've done what -I said I'd do. He'll see I'm not such an utter waster after all." - -"And you--never--told--me!" - -His mother's eyes were swimming. He kissed them dry, and began to make -light of his achievement. - -"Mother, I couldn't. I didn't know what you would think of them. I -didn't think much of them myself, nor do I now. The verses in _Uncle -Tom_ are not much. And then--I thought it would be a surprise." - -"Well, it wouldn't have been one if I had known you had sent them," -said Mrs. Ringrose; and now she was herself again. "I only hope, my -boy," she added, "that they will pay you something." - -"Of course they will. _Uncle Tom_ must have an excellent circulation." - -"Then I hope they'll pay you something handsome. Did you tell the -Editor how long we have taken him in?" - -"Mother!" - -"Then I've a great mind to write and tell him myself. I am sure it -would make a difference." - -"Yes; it would make the difference of my getting the verses back by -return of post," said Harry, grimly. - -Mrs. Ringrose looked hurt, but gave way on the point, and bade him go -on with his breakfast. Harry did so with the _Uncle Tom_ acceptance -spread out and stuck up against the marmalade dish, and one eye was on -it all the time. Afterwards he went to his room and read over the rough -draft of his verses, which he had not looked at since he sent them -away. He could not help thinking a little more of them than he had -thought then. He wondered how they would look in print, and referred to -one of the bound _Uncle Toms_ to see. - -"Well, have you brought them?" said Mrs. Ringrose when he could keep -away from her no longer. - -"The verses? No, dear, I have only a very rough draft of them, which -you couldn't possibly read; and I could never read them to you--I -really couldn't." - -"Not to your own mother?" - -He shook his head. He was also blushing; and his diffidence in the -matter was not the less genuine because he was swelling all the time -with private pride. Mrs. Ringrose did not press the point. The -pecuniary side of the affair continued to interest her very much. - -"Do you think fifty?" she said at length, with considerable obscurity; -but her son knew what she was talking about. - -"Fifty what?" - -"Pounds!" - -"For my poor little verses? You little know their length! They are only -forty-two lines in all." - -"Well, what of that? I am sure I have heard of such sums being given -for a short poem." - -"Well, they wouldn't give it for mine. Fifty shillings, more like." - -"No, no. Say twenty pounds. They could never give you less." - -Harry shook his head and smiled. - -"A five-pound note, at the very outside," said he, oracularly. "But -whatever it is, it'll be one in the eye for the other uncle! Upon my -word, I think we must go to his church to-morrow evening." - -"It will mean going in to supper afterwards, and you know you didn't -like it last time." - -"I can lump it for the sake of scoring off Uncle Spencer!" - -But that was more easily said than done, especially, so to speak, on -the "home ground," where a small but exclusively feminine and entirely -spiritless family sang a chorus of meek approval to the reverend -gentleman's every utterance. When, therefore, Mr. Walthew added to his -melancholy congratulations a solemn disparagement of all the lighter -magazines (which he boasted were never to be seen in his house), the -echo from those timid throats was more galling than the speech itself. -But when poor Mrs. Ringrose ventured only to hint at her innocent -expectations as to the honorarium, and her brother actually laughed -outright, and his family made equally merry, then indeed was Harry -punished for the ignoble motives with which he had attended his uncle's -church. - -"My good boy," cried Uncle Spencer, with extraordinary geniality, "you -will be lucky if you get a sixpence! I say again that I congratulate -you on the prospect of getting into print at all. I say again that even -that is not less a pleasure than a surprise to me. But I would not -delude myself with pecuniary visions until I could write serious -articles for the high-class magazines!" - -Between his mother's presentiments and his uncle's prognostications, -the contributor himself endeavoured to strike a happy medium; but even -he was disappointed when an afternoon post brought a proof of the -verses, together with a postal order for ten-and-sixpence. Harry showed -it to his mother without a word, and for the moment they both looked -glum. Then the boy burst out laughing, and the lady followed suit. - -"And I had visions of a fiver," said Harry. - -"Nay, but I was the worst," said his mother, who was laughing and -crying at the same time. "I said twenty!" - -"It only shows how much the public know about such things. -Ten-and-six!" - -"Well, my boy, that's better than what your uncle said. How long did it -take you to write?" - -"Oh, not more than half an hour. If it comes to that, the money was -quickly earned." - -For a minute and more Mrs. Ringrose gazed steadily at an upper sash, -which was one's only chance of seeing the sky through the windows of -the flat. Her lips were tightly pursed; they always were when she was -in the toils of a calculation. - -"A thousand a year!" she exclaimed at length. - -"What do you mean, mother?" - -"Well, if this poem only took you half an hour, you might easily turn -out half a dozen a day. That would be three guineas. Three guineas a -day would come to over a thousand a year." - -Harry laughed and kissed her. - -"I'll see what I can do," he said; "but I'm very much afraid half a -dozen a week will be more than I can manage. Three guineas a week would -be splendid. I shouldn't have to go round begging for work any more; -they would never give me half as much in an office. Heigho! Here are -the verses for you to read." - -He put on his hat, and went into the High Street to cash his order. It -was the first money his pen had ever earned him in the open market, -and, since the sum seemed to Harry too small to make much difference, -he determined to lay out the whole of it in festive and appropriate, if -unjustifiable fashion. The High Street shops met all his wants. At one -he bought a ninepenny tin of mulligatawny, and a five-and-ninepenny -bottle of Perrier Jouet; at another, some oyster patties and meringues -and half a pound of pressed beef (cut in slices), which came to -half-a-crown between them. The remaining shilling he spent on -strawberries and the odd sixpence on cream. He would have nothing sent, -so we may picture a triumphant, but rather laborious return to the -flat. - -He found his mother in tears over the proofs of his first verses; she -shed more when he showed her how he had spent his first honorarium. Yet -she was delighted; there had been very little in the house, but now -they would be able to do without the porter's wife to cook, and would -be all by themselves for their little treat. No one enjoyed what she -loved to call a "treat" more than Mrs. Ringrose; and perhaps even in -the best of days she had never had a greater one than that now given -her by her extravagant son. It was unexpected, and, indeed, -unpremeditated; it had all the elements of success; and for one short -evening it made Harry's mother almost forget that she was also the wife -of a fraudulent and missing bankrupt. - -Harry, too, was happier than he had been for many a day. In the course -of the evening he stole innumerable glances at his proof, wondering -what this friend or that would think of the verses when they came out -in _Uncle Tom_. Once it was through Lowndes's spectacles that he tried -to look at them, more than once from Mr. Innes's point of view, but -most often with the sterling grey eyes of the girl on Richmond Hill, -who had so earnestly begged him to write. He had heard nothing of her -from that evening to this; her father had not mentioned her in the one -letter Harry had received from him, and neither of them had been near -the flat. But he believed that Fanny Lowndes would like the verses; he -knew that she would encourage him to go on. - -And go on he did, with feverish energy, for the next few days. But the -good luck did not repeat itself too soon; for though the first taste of -printer's ink gave the lad energy, so that within a week he had -showered verses upon half the magazines in London, all those verses -returned like the dove to the ark, because it did not also bring him -good ideas, and his first success had spoilt him a little by costing no -effort. Even _Uncle Tom_ would have no more of him; and the unhappy -Harry began to look upon his imitation of Shelley as the mere fluke it -seemed to have been. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -BEGGAR AND CHOOSER. - - -The one communication which Harry Ringrose had received from Gordon -Lowndes was little more than a humorous acknowledgment of the sum -refunded to him after the sale of the trophies. The writer warmly -protested against the payment of a debt which he himself had never -regarded in that light. The worst of it was that he was not in a -position to refuse such payment. The prospects of the Highland -Crofters' Salmon and Trout Supply Association, Limited, were if -anything rosier than ever. But it was an axiom that the more gigantic -the concern, the longer and more irritating the initial delay, and no -news of the Company would be good news for some time to come. - -"Meanwhile I am here every day of my life," concluded Lowndes, "and -pretty nearly all day. Why the devil don't you look me up?" - -Indeed, Harry might have done so on any or all of those dreadful days -which took him a beggar to the City of London. His reason for not doing -so was, however, a very simple one. He did not want Lowndes to think -that he disbelieved in the H.C.S. & T.S.A., as he must if he knew that -Harry was assiduously seeking work elsewhere. Harry was not altogether -sure that he did utterly disbelieve in that colossal project. But it -was difficult to put much confidence in it after the revelations at -Richmond, and when it was obvious that the promoter's own daughter -lacked confidence in his schemes. Certainly it was impossible to feel -faith enough in the Highland Crofters' to leave lesser stones unturned. -And yet to let Lowndes know what he was doing might be to throw away -three hundred a year. - -So Harry had avoided Leadenhall Street on days when the -company-promoter's boisterous spirits and exuberant good-humour would -have been particularly grateful to him. But this was before he became a -successful literary man. He wanted Lowndes to hear of his success; he -particularly wanted him to tell his daughter. He was not sure that he -should avoid Leadenhall Street another time, nor did he when it came. - -This was after the successful effort had realised only half-a-guinea, -and when some subsequent attempt was coming back in disgrace by every -post. Mrs. Ringrose had taken a leaf out of Harry's book, and committed -a letter to the post without even letting him know that she had written -one. An answer came by return, and this she showed to Harry in -considerable trepidation. It was from the solicitor whom she had -mentioned on the day after Harry's arrival. In it Mr. Wintour Phipps -presented his compliments to Mrs. Ringrose, and stated that he would be -pleased to see her son any afternoon between three and four o'clock. - -"I thought old friends were barred?" Harry said, reproachfully. "I -thought we were agreed about that, mother?" - -"But this is not an old friend of yours or mine, my dear. I never knew -him; I only know what your father did for him. He paid eighty pounds -for his stamps, so I think he might do something for you! And so does -he, you may depend, or he would not write that you are to go and see -him." - -"He doesn't insist upon it," said Harry, glancing again at the -solicitor's reply. "He puts it pretty formally, too!" - -"Have I not told you that I never met him? It was your father and his -father who were such old friends." - -"So he writes to you through a clerk!" - -"How do you know?" - -"It's the very hand they all tell me I ought to cultivate." - -"I have no doubt he is a very busy man. I have often heard your father -say so. Yet he can spare time to see you! You will go to him, my -boy--to please your mother?" - -"I will think about it, dear." - -The mid-day post brought back another set of rejected verses. Harry -swallowed his pride. - -"It's all right, mother; I'll go and see that fellow this afternoon." - -And there followed the last of the begging interviews, which in -character and result had little to differentiate it from all the rest. -Harry did indeed feel less compunction in bearding his father's god-son -than in asking favours of complete strangers. He also fancied that he -was better fitted for the law than for business, and, when he came to -Bedford Row, he could picture himself going there quite happily every -day. The knowledge, too, that this Wintour Phipps was under obligations -to his father, sent the young fellow up a pair of dingy stairs with a -confidence which had not attended him on any former errand of the kind. -And yet in less than ten minutes he was coming down again, with his -beating heart turned to lead, but with a livelier contempt for his own -innocence than for the hardness of the world as most lately exemplified -by Wintour Phipps. Nor would the last of these interviews be worth -mentioning but for what followed; for it was on this occasion that -Harry went on to Leadenhall Street to get what comfort he could from -the one kind heart he knew of in the City of London. - -But there an unexpected difficulty awaited him. He remembered the -number, but he looked in vain for the name of Gordon Lowndes among the -others that were painted on the passage wall as you went in. So he -doubted his memory and tried other numbers; but results brought him -back to the first, and he climbed upstairs in quest of the name that -was not in the hall. He never found it; but as he reached the fourth -landing a peal of unmistakable laughter came through a half-open door. -And Harry took breath, for he had found his friend. - -"Very well," he heard a thin voice saying quietly, "since you refuse me -the slightest satisfaction, Mr. Lowndes, I shall at once take steps." - -"Steps--steps, do you say?" roared Lowndes himself. "All right, take -steps to the devil!" - -And a small dark man came flying through the door, which was instantly -banged behind him. Harry caught him in his arms, and then handed him -his hat, which was rolling along the stone landing. The poor man -thanked him in an agitated voice, and was tottering down the stairs, -when he turned, and with sudden fury shook his umbrella at the shut -door. - -"The dirty scamp!" he cried. "The bankrupt blackguard!" - -Harry never forgot the words, nor the working, whiskered face of the -man who uttered them. He stood where he was until the trembling -footfalls came up to him no more. Then he knocked at the door. Lowndes -himself flung it open, and the frown of a bully changed like lightning -to the most benevolent and genial smile. - -"You!" he cried. "Come in, Ringrose--come in; I'm delighted to see -you." - -"Yes, it's me," said Harry, letting drop the hearty hand which he felt -to be a savage fist unclenched to greet him. "Who did you think it -was?" - -"Why, the man you must have met upon the stairs! A little rat of a -creditor I've chucked out this time, but will throw over the banisters -if he dares to show his nose up here again." - -Harry was forcibly reminded of the butcher at Richmond. - -"So this is the other way of treating them?" said he. - -"This is the other way. Ha! ha! I recollect what you mean. Well, I have -some sympathy with a small tradesman whom the fortune of war has kept -out of his money for weeks and months; not a particle for a little Jew -who has the insolence to come up here and browbeat and threaten me in -my own office for a few paltry pounds! If he had written me a civil -note, reminding me of the debt, which was really so small that I'd -forgotten all about it, he should have had his money in time. Now he -may whistle for it till he's black in the face!" - -Lowndes's indignation was so much more impressive than that of the -little dark man on the stairs, that Harry's sympathies changed sides -without his knowledge. He merely felt his heart warm to Lowndes as the -latter took him by the arm and led him through the outer office (in -which an undersized urchin was mastheaded on an abnormally high stool) -into an inner one, where a red-nosed man sat at the far side of a large -double desk. - -"My friend Mr. Backhouse," said Lowndes, introducing the red-nosed man. -"We're not partners; not even in the same line of business; but we -share the office between us, and the clerks, too--don't we, Bacchus?" - -The red-nosed man grinned at his blotting-pad, and Harry perceived that -the "clerks" consisted of the small child in the outer office. - -"I noticed your name down below in the passage," said Harry to Mr. -Backhouse, "but I couldn't see yours, Mr. Lowndes. I nearly went away -again." - -"Ah! it's in Backhouse's name we have the office; it suits my hand to -keep mine out of it. I'm playing a deep game, Ringrose--one of the -deepest that ever was played in the City of London. I stand to win a -million of money!" - -Lowndes had assumed an air of suitable subtlety and mystery; his eyes -were half-closed behind their gold-rimmed lenses, and he nodded his -head slowly and impressively as he stood with his back to the -fireplace. Harry noticed that he still wore the shabby frock-coat, and -that his trousers were as baggy as ever at the knees. He could not help -asking how the deep game was progressing. - -"Slowly, Ringrose, slowly, but as surely as the stride of time itself. -My noble Earl is up in the Highlands with his yacht. Insisted on -looking into the thing with his own eyes. That's what's keeping us all, -but I expect him back in another week, and then, Ringrose, you may -throw up your hat; for I have not the slightest shadow of a doubt as to -the result of the old chap's investigations." - -Here the clock struck four, and the red-nosed man, who had also a stiff -leg, put on his hat, and stumped out of the office. - -"Now we can talk," said Lowndes, shutting the door, giving Harry a -chair, and sitting down himself. "He'll be gone ten minutes. It's his -whisky-time; he has a Scotch whisky every hour as regularly as the -clock strikes. Wonderful man, Bacchus, for I never saw him a penn'orth -the worse. Some day he'll go pop. But never mind him, Ringrose, and -never mind the Company; tell us how the world's been using you, my boy; -that's more to the point." - -So Harry told him about the accepted verses, and Gordon Lowndes not -only promised to tell his daughter, but was himself most emphatic in -encouraging Harry to go on as he had begun. It might be his true -vocation after all. If he wrote a book and made a hit it would be a -better thing even than the Secretaryship of the H.C.S. & T.S.A. The -delay there was particularly hard lines on Harry. Lowndes only hoped he -was letting no chances slip meanwhile. - -"It is always conceivable," said he, "that my aristocratic directors -may each have a loafing younger son whom they may want to shove into -the billet. You may depend upon me, Ringrose, to resist such jobbery -tooth-and-nail; but, if I were you, I wouldn't refuse the substance for -the shadow; you could always chuck it up, you know, and join us just -the same." - -"Then you won't be offended," said Harry, greatly relieved, "if I tell -you that I have had one or two other irons in the fire?" - -"Offended, my boy? I should think you a duffer if you had not." - -In another minute Harry had made a clean breast of his other journeys -to the City, and was recounting the latest of those miserable -experiences when Lowndes cut him short. - -"What!" cried he, "your father paid for the fellow's stamps, and he -refused to pay for yours?" - -"We never got so far as that," said Harry bitterly. "He wanted a -premium with me, and that settled it. He said three hundred guineas was -the usual thing, but in consideration of certain obligations he had -once been under to my father (he wasn't such a fool as to go into -particulars), he would take me for a hundred and fifty. And he made a -tremendous favour of that. He expected me to go down on my knees with -gratitude, I daresay, but I just told him that a hundred and fifty was -as far beyond me as three hundred, and said good afternoon and came -away. Mind you, I don't blame him. Why should I expect so much for so -little? He's no worse than any of the rest; they're all the same, and I -don't blame any of them. Who am I that I should go asking favours of -any one of them? My God, I've asked my last!" - -"You're your father's son, that's who you are," said Gordon Lowndes. -"What your father did for this skunk of a solicitor, he should be the -first man to do for you. What's his name, by the way?" - -"Phipps." - -"Not Wintour Phipps?" - -Harry nodded; and his nod turned up every light in the other's -expressive face. Gordon Lowndes seized his hat and was on his legs in -an instant, as radiant and as eager as when he set out to chasten and -correct Harry's tailors. Such little punitive crusades were in fact the -salt and pepper of his existence. - -"My boy," he cried, "I've known Wintour Phipps for years. I know enough -to strike Wintour Phipps off the rolls to-morrow. I guess he'll do -anything for me, will Wintour Phipps! So you sit just as tight as wax -till I come back. I shan't be long." And he was gone before Harry -grasped his meaning sufficiently to interfere. For the young fellow was -apt to be slow-witted when taken by surprise: and though he ran -headlong down the stairs a minute later, he was only in time to see -Lowndes dive into a hansom on the other side of the crowded street, and -be driven away. - -He could do nothing now. He was annoyed with Lowndes, and yet the man -meant well--by Harry, at all events Others might take him as they found -him, and call him a scamp if they chose. Very possibly he was one; -indeed, on his own showing, in his own stories, he was nothing else. -But he had a kind heart, and Harry's needs and rebuffs inclined him to -rate a sympathetic rogue far higher in the moral scale than a callous -paragon. Whatever else might be said of Lowndes, there was no end to -the trouble he would take for another. Even when he insisted on doing -what the person most concerned would have had him leave undone (as in -this instance), it was impossible not to feel grateful to him for doing -anything at all. His unselfish enthusiasm in other people's causes was -beyond all praise. He might not be a good man, but that was a virtue -which many a good man had not. - -Still Harry was annoyed. What Gordon Lowndes had gone to say to Wintour -Phipps he could only conjecture; but the object was plainly -intercessory, and Harry hated the thought of such intercession on his -behalf. There was nothing for it, however, but to climb upstairs again -(he had done so), and patiently to await the return of Lowndes. So the -afternoon passed. Mr. Backhouse stumped in, took his hat off, wrote -letters, reached his hat, and stumped out again. But still no Lowndes. - -"Good-night," said Harry to the retreating Bacchus. - -"Oh, I'm not going--I shall be back directly," replied that methodical -man. "I have a little business down below." And he was back in ten -minutes, sucking his moustache, and followed almost immediately by -Gordon Lowndes, who stalked into the room with an air which Harry had -not before seen him affect. His triumph was self-evident, but it was -beautifully suppressed. He put down his hat with exasperating -deliberation, and then stood beaming at Harry through his glasses. - -"Well?" said Harry. - -"It's all right," said Lowndes, very quietly, as of a foregone -conclusion: "you may start work to-morrow, Ringrose. Our friend Phipps -will be only too glad to have you. He will pay for the stamps for your -articles, and, so far from charging you a premium, he will give you a -small salary from the beginning. It won't be much, but then articled -clerks as a rule get nothing. Our friend Phipps is going to make an -exception in your case--and just you let me know when he treats you -again as he did this afternoon. He never will! You'll find him tame -enough now. You're to go to him again to-morrow morning; and you see if -he don't receive you with open arms!" - -"But why?" cried Harry. "What have you said?" - -"What have I said? Well, I reminded him of a trifling incident which -there was no need to remind him of at all, for the mere thought of it -turned him pale the moment he saw me. So I took the liberty of showing -him what might still happen if he didn't do exactly what I wanted about -you. My boy, the thing was settled in two minutes. A rising young -fellow like Wintour Phipps is not the man to be struck off the rolls if -he knows it! But I wasn't coming away without having the whole thing -down in black and white, and here it is." - -From his inner pocket he took out a long blue envelope and slapped it -down on the desk. - -"May I see?" said Harry in a throbbing voice. - -"Certainly; it's your business now, not mine." - -Harry ran his eye over the brief document. Then he looked up. - -"It's my business now--not yours?" - -"To be sure." - -"Then I'm very much obliged to you, Mr. Lowndes, but here's an end of -it." - -He tore the paper twice across, and carefully dropped it into the -waste-paper basket. Then he looked up again. And he had never seen -Lowndes really pale until that moment, nor really red until the next. -Yet the storm passed over after all. - -"Well--upon--my--soul!" said Gordon Lowndes, very slowly, but with more -humour and less wrath in each successive word. "And you're the man who -wanted a billet!" - -"I want one still, but not on such terms. I'd rather starve." - -"There's no accounting for taste." - -"But I'm very sorry, I am indeed, that you should have troubled -yourself to no purpose," continued Harry, holding out his hand with -genuine emotion. "It was awfully good of you, and I shall never forget -it." - -"Nonsense--nonsense!" said Lowndes sharply. "Don't name it, my good -fellow. We all look at these things differently--don't we, Bacchus? You -wouldn't have had any scruples, would you? No more would I, my boy, I -tell you frankly. But don't name it again. It was no trouble at all, -and, even if it had been, there's nothing I wouldn't do for any of you, -Ringrose, and now you know it. Hurt my feelings? Not a bit of it, my -dear boy, I'm only frightened I hurt yours. Good night, good night, and -my love to the old lady. Cut away home and tell her I've no more -principles than Bacchus has brains!" - -But Harry thought the matter over in the Underground; and it was many a -day before he mentioned it at the flat. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -THE CHAMPION OF THE GODS. - - -Harry had gathered that another week would decide the fate of the -H.C.S. & T.S.A., Ltd., and he could not help feeling anxious as that -week drew to its close. Not that he himself had gained much confidence -in the mighty scheme in question, for he found it more and more -impossible to believe very deeply in Gordon Lowndes or any of his -works. Yet he knew now that Lowndes would help him if he could, by fair -means or by foul, and he could say the same of no other man. Lowndes -was not merely his friend, but his only friend in London, and you -cannot afford to be hypercritical of an only friend. He might be -unscrupulous, he might be unreliable, but he stood by himself for -staunchness and the will to help. He might be a straw for sinking -hopes, but there was no spar in sight. - -So Harry searched the papers at the Public Library, not only for likely -advertisements (which he would answer to the tune of several stamps a -day), but also for the announcement of the return from Scotland of the -Earl of Banff, K.G. When that announcement appeared, and two or three -days slipped by without a line from Lowndes, though the week was more -than up, then, and not until then, did Harry Ringrose abandon his last -hope of getting anything to do in London. His one friend there had -failed him, and was very likely himself in prison for debt. He had, it -is true, an infinitely better friend at Guildford, whom he was on the -eve of visiting, and who might help him to some junior mastership, but -this was the most that he could hope for now. Such a post would in all -probability separate him from his mother, but even that would be better -than living upon her as he was now doing. And in London he seemed to -stand no chance at all. - -To this melancholy conclusion had Harry come on the day before he was -to go to Guildford, when the electric bell began ringing as though it -was never going to stop, and there stood Lowndes himself at ten o'clock -in the morning. Harry instantly demanded to be told the worst or the -best. The other held up his finger and shook his head. His face seemed -wilfully inscrutable, but it was also full of humour and encouragement. - -"The fact is, Ringrose," said Lowndes, "I have heard so much of that -blessed Company every day for so many months, that I mean to give -myself one day without thinking or speaking about it at all. Come to me -to-morrow and you shall know everything. Meanwhile you and your mother -must dine with me this evening to celebrate the occasion. Let us say -the Grand Hotel and seven o'clock. Then we can all go to some theatre -afterwards." - -Harry ran to tell his mother he felt certain the Company was coming out -at last, and to repeat this invitation word for word; but he had great -difficulty in getting her to accept it. How could she go out again? She -might be seen; it would look so bad; and she did not want to enjoy -herself. Then, said Harry, neither did he; and so gained his point by -rather doubtful means. Lowndes, who was on his way to the City, and -would not come in, whispered to Harry that a little outing would do his -mother all the good in the world; then his eyes fell, and he stood -quizzically contemplating the shiny suit which he still seemed to -prefer to all the new ones he had ordered from Harry's tailors. - -"I think, Ringrose," said he, "that you and I had better dress. I keep -some war-paint in the City, so it will be no trouble to either of us. -Tell your mother not to bother, however, as my daughter will not be in -evening dress. I forgot to mention, by the way, that she is coming in -to pay her belated respects to Mrs. Ringrose this afternoon, and I want -you to be so good as to bring her along with you to the Grand Hotel. -Seven o'clock, recollect, and you and I will dress." - -With that he ran down the stone stairs, and the swing doors closed -behind him with a thud while Harry Ringrose still loitered on the -landing outside the flat. Delighted as he was at the unwonted prospect -of a little gaiety, and more than thankful for all that it implied, -those emotions were nothing to the sudden satisfaction with which he -found himself looking forward to seeing Miss Lowndes again and at the -flat. It is true that the keener pleasure was also the less perfect. It -was mingled with a personal anxiety which it was annoying to feel, but -which Harry could not shake off. He was unreasonably anxious that his -mother should like Miss Lowndes, and that Miss Lowndes should like his -mother. And yet he told himself it was a natural feeling enough; he -recalled its counterpart in old days when he had taken some -schoolfellow home for the holidays. - -As for Mrs. Ringrose, she was not only pleased to hear the girl was -coming, but regarded that unprecedented fact as a happier augury than -any other circumstance. - -"I really think you must be right," said she, "and that the ship he has -always talked about is coming in at last. I am sure I hope it is true, -for I know of nobody who would make a better millionaire than Mr. -Lowndes. He is generous with his money when it seems that he has less -than I should have believed possible, so what will he be when he is -really rich! But he never would tell me what his great scheme was; and -I am not sure that I altogether care for it from your description, my -boy. I like Mr. Lowndes immensely, but I am not sure that I want to see -you concerned in a pure speculation. However, let us hope for the best, -and let neither of them suppose that we do not believe the best. Yes, -of course, I shall be glad to see the daughter. Go down, my boy, and -tell the porter's wife to come up and speak to me." - -When in the fulness of time Miss Lowndes arrived, the door was opened -by neither Harry nor Mrs. Ringrose, and the flat was brightened by a -few fresh flowers which the former had brought in without exciting his -mother's suspicions. Mrs. Ringrose, indeed, had an inveterate love of -entertaining, which all her troubles had not killed in her, and she -received the visitor in a way that made Harry draw a very long breath. -Palpably and indeed inexplicably nervous as she came in, so genial was -the welcome that the girl recovered herself in a moment, and in another -Harry's anxieties were at an end. Once she had mastered her momentary -embarrassment, it was obvious that Miss Lowndes was in infinitely -better spirits than when he had seen her last at Richmond. She looked -younger; there was a warmer tinge upon her cheek, her eyes were -brighter, her dress less demure. Harry had only to look at her to feel -assured that fortune was smiling after all upon the H.C.S. & T.S.A.; -and he had only to hear the two women talking to know that they would -be friends. - -Miss Lowndes explained why she had never been to call before. She said -frankly that they had been terribly poor, and she herself greatly tied -in consequence. She spoke of the poverty in the perfect tense, with the -freedom and nonchalance with which one can afford to treat what is -passed and over. Nothing could have been more reassuring than her tone, -nothing pleasanter than the way in which she and Mrs. Ringrose took to -one another. Harry was so pleased that he was quite contented to sit by -and listen, and to wait upon Miss Lowndes when the tea came in, and -only put in his word here and there. It was his mother who would speak -about the accepted verses, and when Harry fled to dress he left her -ransacking the escritoire for his notorious outrage on Gray's Elegy. -Nor was this the final mark of favour. When they started for Charing -Cross, it was Mrs. Ringrose who insisted that they should take an -omnibus, and Mrs. Ringrose who presently suggested that the young -people would be cooler outside. It was as though Fanny Lowndes had made -a deeper impression on Harry's mother than on Harry himself. - -Now, there is no more delightful drive than that from Kensington to the -Strand, at the golden end of a summer's afternoon and on the top of a -Hammersmith omnibus. If you are so fortunate as to get a front seat -where nobody can smoke in your face and the view is unimpeded, it is -just possible that your coppers may buy you as much of colour and -beauty and life and interest as Harry Ringrose obtained for his; but -certainly Harry was very young and much addicted to enthusiasm over -small things; and perhaps nobody else is likely to breast the first -green corner of the Gardens with the thrill it gave him, or to covet a -certain small house in Kensington Gore as he coveted it, or to see with -his eyes through the railings and the thick leaves of the Park, or to -read as much romance upon the crowded flagstones of Piccadilly. Already -he knew and loved every furlong of the route; but Fanny Lowndes was the -first companion who had been with him over the ground; and afterwards, -when he came to know every yard, every yard was associated with her. -The beginning of the Gardens henceforth reminded Harry of his first -direct question about the Company, and her assurances ever afterwards -accompanied him to the Memorial. That maligned monument he never passed -again without thinking of the argument it had led to, without deploring -his companion's views as to gilt and gay colours, without remembering -sadly that it was the one subject on which they disagreed that happy -summer evening. He found her more sympathetic even than he had been -imagining her since their first meeting. They touched a score of topics -on which their spirits jumped as one: in after days he would recall -them in their order when he came that way alone, and see summer -sunshine through the dripping fogs, and green leaves on the black -branches in the Park. - -Their last words he remembered oftenest, because even the Underground -leads to Trafalgar Square, and it was there that they were spoken. The -shadows of the column lay sharp and black across the Square; that of -the Admiral was being run over by innumerable wheels in the road -beyond, and the low sun flashed in every window of the Grand Hotel. - -"Our future offices!" laughed Harry, pointing to the pile. - -"I don't think I want them to be yours," said Fanny Lowndes. - -"Why not?" - -"I want you to go on with your writing." - -"But you see how little good I am. One thing accepted out of seven -written! I should never make bread and butter at it." - -"You have not done what I told you to do at Richmond. You should try -prose, and draw on your own experiences." - -"Would you be my critic?" - -"If I had the qualifications." - -"Well, will you read me and say what you think?" - -"With all my heart." - -"Then I'll set to work as soon as ever I get back from Guildford. You -would put pluck into a mouse, Miss Lowndes, and I'll try to deserve the -interest you take in me." - -The omnibus stopped, and their eyes met with a mutual regret as they -rose. Harry could not have believed that a change of fortune would so -change a face; that of Miss Lowndes was always lighted by intelligence -and kindness, but with the light of happiness added it was almost -beautiful. And yet, the fine eyes fell before Harry's, and fell again -as he handed her to the curb with a cordial clasp, so that the boy was -thoughtful as they crossed to the hotel, thinking of her nervousness at -the flat. - -A few hours later he could understand the daughter of Gordon Lowndes -feeling nervous in accompanying comparative strangers to public places -under the wing of that extraordinary man. - -It was evident from the first that Lowndes was in a highly excitable -state. Harry overheard him telling his daughter she was five minutes -late in a tone which made his young blood boil. But it was the hotel -officials who had the chief benefit of the company-promoter's mood. -Something was wrong with the soup--Harry was talking to Miss Lowndes -and never knew what. All he heard was Lowndes sending for the head -waiter, and the harangue that followed. The head waiter ventured to -answer; he was instantly told to fetch the general manager. A painful -scene seemed inevitable, but the worst was over. In making two -officials miserable, and in greatly embarrassing his daughter and his -guests, it suddenly appeared that Lowndes had quite recovered his own -spirits, and the manager found a boisterous humourist instead of the -swashbuckler for whom he had come prepared. The complaint was waived -with dexterous good-nature; but care seemed to be taken that no -loophole should be given for a second. The remainder of the repast was -unexceptionable (as, indeed, the soup had seemed to Harry), and -Lowndes, who drank a good deal of champagne, continued uproariously -mirthful almost to the end. He told them the name of the piece for -which he had taken stalls. It had only been produced the previous -evening, so none of them could say that they had seen it before. - -"I don't know what it's like," added Lowndes. "I never read criticisms. -Have you seen anything about it, Ringrose?" - -"Why, yes," said Harry; "I looked in at the library this morning, and I -saw two or three notices. They say it is a good enough play; but there -was a bit of a row last night. The papers are full of it. In fact -that's how I came to read the criticisms." - -"A row in the theatre?" said Lowndes. "What about?" - -"Fees," said Harry. "You know there are no fees at the Lyceum and the -Savoy, and three or four more of the best theatres, so they want to -abolish them there also." - -"Who do?" - -"The public." - -"But it's a question for the management entirely. The public have -nothing to do with it." - -"I don't know about that," argued Harry. "The public pay, and they -think they shouldn't." - -"Why?" snapped Lowndes; and it became disagreeably apparent that his -lust for combat had revived. - -"Well, they think they pay quite enough for their places without any -extras afterwards, such as a fee for programmes. They say you might as -well be charged for the bill-of-fare when you dine at a restaurant. But -their great point seems to be that if half-a-dozen good theatres can do -without fees all good theatres can. They call them an imposition." - -"Rubbish," snorted Lowndes, in so offensive a manner that Harry could -say no more; he was therefore surprised when, after a little general -conversation in which Lowndes had not joined, the latter leant across -to him with all the twinkling symptoms of his liveliest moments. - -"I presume," said he, "that all the row last night was kicked up by the -pit and gallery?" - -"So I gathered." - -"Ah! What they want is a remonstrance from the stalls. There would be -some sense in that." - -There were no more disagreeables at the hotel, and none with either of -the cabmen outside the theatre. All at once Lowndes seemed to have -grown unnaturally calm and sedate, Harry could not imagine why. But -only too soon he knew. - -They had four stalls in the centre of the third row. Harry sat on the -extreme left of the party, with Fanny Lowndes on his right, to whom he -was talking as he tucked his twelve-shilling "topper" as carefully as -possible under the seat, when his companion suddenly looked round and -up with a startled expression. Harry followed her example, and there -was Gordon Lowndes standing up in his place and laughing in the -reddening face of the pretty white-capped attendant. In his hand were -four programmes. - -"Certainly not," he was saying. "The system of fees, in a theatre like -this, is an outrage on the audience, and I don't intend to submit to -it." - -"I can't help the system, sir." - -"I know you can't, my good girl. I don't blame you. Go about your -business." - -"But I must fetch the manager." - -"Oh, fetch the police if you like. Not a penny-piece do I pay." - -And Gordon Lowndes stood erect in his place, fanning himself with the -unpaid-for programmes, and beaming upon all the house. Already all eyes -were upon him; it was amusing to note with what different glances. The -stalls took care to look suitably contumelious, and the dress-circle -were in proper sympathy with the stalls. But the front row of the pit -were leaning across the barrier, and the gallery was a fringe of -horizontal faces and hats. - -"We're behind you," said a deep voice in the pit. - -"Good old four-eyes!" piped another from aloft. - -The gods had recognised their champion: he gave them a magnificent wave -of the programmes, and stood there with swelling shirt-front, every -inch the demagogue. - -"Now, sir, now!" - -The manager was a smart-looking man with a pointed beard, and a -crush-hat on the back of his head. He spoke even more sharply than was -necessary. - -"Now, sir, to you," replied Lowndes suavely, and with an admirable -inclination of his head. - -"Well, what's the matter? Why won't you pay?" - -"I never encourage fees," replied Lowndes, shaking his twinkling face -in the most fatherly fashion. He articulated his words with the utmost -deliberation, however, and there was a yell of approval from the gods -above. A ripple of amusement was also going round the house; for Mrs. -Ringrose was holding up half-a-crown and making treacherous signs to -the manager, which, however, he would not see. It seemed he was a -fighting man himself, and his eyes were locked in a tussle with -Lowndes's spectacles. - -"You must leave the theatre, that's all." - -"Nonsense," retorted Lowndes, with his indulgent smile. - -"We shall see about that. May I trouble you, ladies and gentlemen, to -leave your places for one moment?" - -Lowndes's incomparable guffaw resounded through the auditorium. It was -receiving a hearty echo in pit and gallery, when he held up his -programmes, and the gods were still. The ladies and gentlemen had kept -their seats. - -"My dear sir, why give yourself away?" said Gordon Lowndes, still -chuckling, to the manager. "You daren't touch me, and you know you -daren't. A pretty figure you'd cut at Bow Street to-morrow morning! Now -kindly listen to me--" and he tapped the programmes authoritatively -with his forefinger. "You know as well as I do that there was trouble -last night in this theatre about this very thing; my dear sir, I can -promise you there'll be trouble every night until you discontinue your -present obsolete and short-sighted policy. How I wish you were a -sensible man! Then you would think twice before attempting to force a -barefaced imposition of this sort down the throats of your audience; an -imposition that every theatre of repute has recognised as such and -thrown overboard long and long ago. You don't force it down _my_ -throat, I can tell you that. You don't bluff or bully _me_. As if we -didn't pay enough for our seats without any such exorbitant extras! -Why, they might as well charge us for the bill-of-fare at a first-class -restaurant. Besides, what a charge! Sixpence for these--sixpence for -this!" And he spun one of his programmes into the pit, and waved -another towards the gallery. - -But that cool quick tongue was no sooner silent than the house was in a -hubbub. Here and there arose a thin, peevish cry of "Turn him out," but -on the whole the sympathy of the house was with Lowndes. The stalls -were no longer visibly ashamed of him; the dress-circle jumped with the -stalls; but the pit clapped its ungloved hands and stamped with its -out-of-door boots, while every species of whistle, cheer and cat-call -came hurtling from the gallery. This went on for some three minutes, -which is a long time thus filled. There was no stopping it. The manager -retreated unheard and impotent. A minute later the curtain went up, -only to give the tumult a new impetus. The hapless actors looked at one -another and at the front of the house. The curtain came down, and the -popular and talented lessee himself stepped in front of it, dressed in -his stage costume. But even him they would not hear. Then arose the -unknown, middle-aged gentleman in the stalls, with the splendid temper -and the gold eye-glasses--and him they would. - -"Come, come, ladies and gentlemen," cried he, "haven't we done enough -for one night? We have all paid our money, are we not to see the piece? -As for that other matter, I think it may safely be left in the hands of -yonder wise man who stands before us." - -And it was--with a result you may remember. Meantime the curtain was up -for good and the play proceeding after a very short interval indeed, -during which Gordon Lowndes bore himself with startling modesty, -sitting quietly in his place and doing nothing but apologise to Mrs. -Ringrose for having caused such a scene on an occasion when she was his -guest. He should have thought only of his guests; but his sense of -public duty, combined with his bitter and inveterate intolerance of -anything in the shape of an imposition, had run away with him, and on -Mrs. Ringrose's account he was humbly sorry for it. That lady forgave -him, however. Through a perfect agony of shame and indignation she had -come to a new and not unnatural pride in her eccentric friend. - -As for Harry, there was no measure to his enthusiasm: the tears had -been in his eyes from sheer excitement. - -"A wonderful man, your father!" he whispered again and again to the -pale girl on his right. - -"He is," she answered, with a smile and a sigh. And the smile was the -sadder of the two. - -Between the acts Harry visited the foyer with Lowndes, who was -complimented by several strangers on his spirited and public-spirited -behaviour. - -"But do you know," said Harry, when they were alone, "from the way you -spoke at dinner I fancied you took quite an opposite view of the whole -question of fees?" - -"So I did," whispered Lowndes, with his tremulous grin, "but I saw my -way to some sport, and that was enough for me. I was spoiling for some -sport to-night, and a bit of bluff from the stalls was obviously what -was wanted. You must excuse my using your arguments, but the fact is I -very seldom set foot inside a theatre, and they were the only ones I'd -ever heard." - -"At dinner you said they were nonsense!" - -The other winked as he lowered his voice. - -"So they were, my dear Ringrose. That was exactly where the sport came -in." - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -THE DAY OF BATTLE. - - -It was the following morning that Harry Ringrose received a first -return for the many letters he had written in answer to advertisements -seen in the Public Library. The advertisement had been for an articled -clerk. The clerk was to be articled on really "exceptional terms" (duly -specified), and a "public-school boy" was "preferred." It was, in fact, -the likeliest advertisement Harry had seen, and its possibilities were -not altogether dissipated by the communication now received:-- - - "DEAR SIR,--We beg to acknowledge your letter of the 19th instant, - and to say that this is an increasing business, and that we require - further assistance in it. You would have an opportunity of - thoroughly learning the whole business under the supervision of Mr. - Shuttleworth himself; would accompany him to the various courts, - and eventually other arrangements might be made. You will notice - that the premium is only fifty guineas, which will be returned in - salary--a very unusual thing. - - "Perhaps you will give me a call at your early convenience, of - which we shall be glad to have notice, as we must take someone at - once. - - "Yours faithfully, - - "WALTER SHUTTLEWORTH & CO." - -Like most of his correspondence, this letter was read by Harry to his -mother, who looked up at him as though his fortune were already made. -She had been in favour of the Law all along, and she was prepared to -break into her capital for the fifty guineas' premium and for the -eighty pounds for stamps. It would decrease their income by a few -pounds, but if Harry were getting a good salary they would be the -gainers by the difference. In any case he must telegraph to these -people without a moment's loss of time--he must see Mr. Shuttleworth -before starting for Guildford that afternoon. His bag should be ready -immediately, and, as he also wanted to see Mr. Lowndes, he could leave -it in Leadenhall Street and pop in for it afterwards on his way to -Waterloo. - -Such was his mother's advice, and Harry took it to the letter. The bag -was his father's dressing-bag, which Mrs. Ringrose said would make a -good appearance at Mr. Innes's. It was heavy with silver-mounted -fittings, but there was just room for Harry's dress suit, which made it -heavier still. Consequently the way from Aldgate to Leadenhall Street -had never seemed so long before, and Harry was thankful when he and the -bag were at last aloft in Lowndes's office. Here he instantly forgot -his wet forehead and his aching arm. He had dropped in upon the -queerest scene. - -Gordon Lowndes was in the inner office. Harry saw him through the open -door, and his first impression was that Lowndes had been up all night. -He was still in evening dress. The very hat and Inverness, in which -Harry had seen the last of him at eleven the night before, completed -his attire at eleven this morning. There was one quaint difference: -instead of a white bow he wore a blue scarf tied in an ordinary knot, -which stultified the whole costume. Harry looked hard. Lowndes was -looking even harder at him, with a kind of what-do-_you_-want glare. -But he was palpably sober; he wore every sign of the man who had slept -heartily and risen in his vigour, and in an instant his features had -relaxed and his hands lay affectionately on Harry's shoulders. - -"Well, Ringrose, my boy, what brought you along so early? And what have -you got there?" - -"It's my bag," said Harry. "I'm going down to Guildford for a day or -two, but I've got to see a man this morning, and I thought I might -leave it here in the meantime. May I?" - -"Surely, Ringrose, surely. Come inside; I've got my daughter here. My -dear, here's Harry Ringrose, and this is his bag. Gad! but it's heavy!" - -Miss Lowndes blushed painfully as she shook hands with Harry. Her other -arm was held behind her back with incriminating care. - -"Now, my dear," said Lowndes, briskly, "since we are bowled out let's -be bowled out. Ringrose is bound to know the truth sooner or later, so -he may as well know it now." And with a rough laugh he snatched from -behind his daughter's back the shiny old clothes in which he had called -at the flat the previous morning. - -Harry thought that the best thing he could do was to join in the laugh. -Next moment his heart smote him, for Miss Lowndes had turned her back -and stood looking at the window: not through it: it was opaque with -grime. - -"Fact is, Ringrose." continued Lowndes, "the noble Earl is trying to -play me false. He won't keep it up, mind you; he's in too deep with me -to dare; but he's trying it on. Yesterday was the day we were to fix -things up for good and all. I wasn't sure of him, Ringrose; he's shown -himself a slippery old cuss too often. However, I had raised a breath -of wind since I saw you last, and I had a fiver left, so I thought we'd -make sure of our little spree. Blue your last fiver--that's my rule. -Never count the odds in the day of battle, and blue your last fiver for -luck! If you don't blue that fiver you may never have another to blue, -and I'm hanged if you deserve one! Well, that was my last fiver we -blued last night. Don't look like that, man--I tell you I blued it for -luck. The luck hasn't come yet, but you may bet your shirt it's on the -way. You'll see the noble Earl trot back to heel when I threaten to -expose him if he doesn't! Why, I've got letters from him that would -make him the laughing-stock of the Lords; yet he leaves me one crying -off in so many words, and has cleared for the Mediterranean in his -yacht. Either he'll come back within a week, Ringrose, and go through -with the Company, or by God he shall pay through the nose for breaking -his word and wasting my time! But I see you looking at my toilet. It is -a bit of an anachronism, I confess." - -"I suppose you have been sitting up all night," said Harry. "I'm not -surprised after what you tell me." - -Lowndes guffawed. - -"You'll never find me doing that!" he cried. "I leave the sitting up to -my creditors! They'll sit up pretty slick before I've done with 'em--so -will the noble Earl. Now let me enlighten you. You remember all those -clothes I ordered from your trustful tailors, and how I told you never -to neglect a good credit? Well, to give you a practical illustration of -the merits of my advice, I've been living on those clothes ever since. -I have so! Yesterday this time the whole boiling were up the spout. I -just got out the dress-suit and this Inverness for one night only, and -changed into them up here. Now I've got to put them in pop again, and -that's why you find me with them on. Do you follow me, Ringrose? Those -good old duds are the only garments I've got in the world--thanks to -the so-called Right Honourable the Earl of Banff." - -Harry could not smile. He was thinking of his tailors, and he shuddered -to remember that Lowndes had also borrowed five pounds in hard cash -from the accommodating firm. Harry had dazzling visions of eventual -trouble and responsibility; then his eyes stole over to the forlorn -figure by the window; and it was quivering in a way that cut him to the -heart. - -"You may like to blue your last fiver," he turned to Lowndes and cried; -"but I wish to heaven you hadn't blued it on us! As for my mother, when -she hears----" - -"Don't tell her, Mr. Ringrose!" cried a breaking voice. "I shall die of -shame if she ever knows." - -Fanny Lowndes had turned about with her fine eyes drowned in tears, her -strong hands clutched together in an agony of entreaty; and just then -Harry felt that he could forgive her father much, but never for the -grief and shame which he first heaped upon the girl, and then forced -her to display. - -"It's a queer thing, Ringrose," observed Lowndes, "that women never can -be got to take a sensible view of these matters. Your mother--my -daughter--they're every one of them alike." - -He swung on his heel with a shrug, and went into the outer office to -meet his friend Backhouse, who here returned from the usual errand. A -trembling hand fell on Harry's arm. - -"Do not think the worst of him!" whispered Fanny. - -"It is only on your account," was his reply. - -"But he is so good to me!" - -"Yet yesterday he let you think that all was well." - -"He wanted to give me a pleasure while he could." - -Harry looked in the brave wet eyes, and his heart gave a sudden bound. - -"How staunch you are!" he murmured. "He is a lucky man who has you at -his back!" - -Then he followed her father into the outer office, saying he must go, -but that he would be back in an hour for his bag. - -He was back in less. - -His interview with Messrs. Walter Shuttleworth (one gentleman) had -proved but little more satisfactory than any of his other interviews. -Still, here was a man who had need of Harry, and that was something. He -was the first. Harry rather took to him. He was a dashing young fellow, -a public-school man; and it was a public-school man such as Harry that -he wanted in his office. At present he appeared to keep but one -juvenile clerk, a size larger than Lowndes's--and he had no partner. -This was the opening which was dimly and dexterously held out to Harry -as an ultimate probability. And for one dazzling moment Harry felt that -here was his chance in life at last. But when he came to ask questions, -the fabric fell to pieces like all the rest, and he knew that he was -sitting in Mr. Shuttleworth's office for the last time as well as for -the first. For, though the premium was to be returned "in salary," it -would only be returned during the last twelvemonth of Harry's articles, -and for four weary years he must work for nothing. He shook his head; -he was bitterly disappointed. He was then told that the proposed -arrangement was an offer in a thousand; but that he knew. He took his -hat, simply saying he could never afford it. But he was asked to think -it over and to write again, for he was just the sort of fellow for the -place; and this he promised to do, because it seemed just the sort of -place for him. - -Mr. Backhouse had stumped into the office as Harry was leaving, and now -Harry met him stumping out. It was this that showed him that he had -been less than an hour away. But Lowndes had found time to array -himself once more in his "good old duds," to put his dress-suit back -into pawn, and to run through Leadenhall Market with Fanny before -packing her back to Richmond. And now he was ready to listen to Harry, -and very anxious to know how he had got on, and with whom, and where, -and what it had all been about. - -Harry told him everything. He was only too glad to do so, since however -Lowndes might misuse his wits and talents in his own affairs, they were -ever at the service of his friends, and it seemed but right that -someone should have the benefit of those capital parts. The boy had -felt differently an hour before, but now he needed advice, and here was -Lowndes as eager as ever to advise. As usual, he saw to the heart of -the matter long ere the whole had been laid before him. Ten to one, he -said, the thing was past praying for now; it depended, however, on how -strong a fancy this lawyer had taken to Ringrose, for he was by no -means the only public-school boy to be had in London. His best policy -now was to write a letter which should heighten that fancy, while it -set forth his own circumstances and needs more explicitly than Harry -appeared to have done in the interview. That would get at the man's -heart, if he had one, and if not there was no further chance. Such a -letter was eventually written at Lowndes's dictation; but Harry never -felt comfortable about it; and it was only the sore necessity of -employment that prevailed upon him to let Lowndes post it as they were -both on their way out to luncheon. - -They lunched at Crosby Hall. Harry took little because he meant to pay. -Lowndes, however, would not hear of that, and Harry had to give way on -the point, little as he liked doing so in the circumstances. They then -left the place arm-in-arm, but in the street Lowndes withdrew his hand -and held it out. - -"I won't drag you out of your way again," said he, "especially as I -have a lot of letters to write this afternoon. Good-day to you, -Ringrose." - -"You forget my bag," said Harry, smiling. - -"What about it?" - -"I left it in your office." - -"In my office? To be sure, so you did. And now I think of it, I've got -something to say to you about your bag." - -Harry wondered what. Evidently it was something he preferred not to say -in the street, for Lowndes strode along with a square jaw and a face -frowning with thought. Backhouse was at the desk. Lowndes put down -sixpence and told him to buy himself an irregular. Backhouse limped -out, shutting the door, and they were alone. Harry could not see his -bag. - -"Ringrose," said Lowndes, "I've stood by you and yours in the day of -battle, and now it's your turn to stand by me and mine. You can't -conceive what a hole we've been in. Not a penny piece in the house down -yonder--not a crust--not a bone. I came in this morning to raise a few -shillings by hook or crook, and I brought in my daughter so as to send -her back with enough to buy the bare necessary. I tried Bacchus, but he -swears he's getting his drinks on tick. I tried the caretaker, but I've -stuck her so often that she wouldn't be stuck again. I knew it was no -use trying you, Ringrose, yet I knew you would want to help me, so I'll -tell you what I've done. I've run in that bag of yours along with my -dress-suit." - -"You didn't pawn it?" - -"Certainly I did." - -"You mean to tell me----" - -"Kindly lower your voice. If you want the office-boy to hear what -you're saying, I don't. I mean to tell you that the situation was -desperate, and your bag has saved it for the time being. I mean to tell -you that I'd pawn the shirt off my back to get you out of half as bad a -hole as I've been in this morning. Come, Ringrose, I thought you were -sportsman enough to stand by the man who has stood by you?" - -Harry's indignation knew no bounds, and yet the plausibility of the -older man told upon him even in his heat. - -"I am ready enough to stand by you," he cried, "but this is a different -thing. I freely acknowledge your kindness to my mother and myself, but -it doesn't give you the right to put my things in pawn, and you must -get them out again at once." - -"My good fellow," said Lowndes, "I fully intend to do so. I have sent -an urgent letter to the noble Earl's solicitors this very morning, -telling them of the straits to which the old villain has reduced me, -and of the steps I intend to take failing a proper and immediate -indemnification. I haven't the least doubt that they will send me a -cheque on account before the day's out, and then I shall instantly send -round for your bag." - -Harry shook off the hand that had been laid upon his arm, and pulled -out his watch. - -"It's twenty to three," said he quietly. "I leave Waterloo by the -five-forty, and my bag leaves with me. Let there be no misunderstanding -about that, Mr. Lowndes. I must have it by five o'clock--not a minute -later." - -"Why must you? Surely they could fix you up for one night? I guarantee -it won't be longer." - -"They dress for dinner down at Guildford," said Harry; "it isn't the -fixing up for the night." - -"Well, why not lose your bag on the way? Nothing more natural in a -young fellow of your age." - -Harry lost his temper instead. - -"Look here, Mr. Lowndes, you have been a good friend to us, as you say. -You were a good friend to us last night. You've been a good friend to -me this very day. But I simply can't conceive how you could go and do a -thing like this; and I must have my bag by five o'clock, or we shall be -friends no longer." - -There was heat enough and fire enough in the young fellow's tone to -bring blood to the cheek of an older man so spoken to. Lowndes looked -delighted; he even clapped his hands. - -"Well said, Ringrose; said like a sportsman!" he cried. "I like to hear -a young chap talk out straight from the chest like that. I think all -the more of you, my son, and you shall have your old bag by five -o'clock if I bust for it. Only look here: don't you be angry with your -grandfather!" - -Harry burst out laughing in his own despite. - -"It's impossible to be angry with you," he said. "Still, I must----" - -"I see you must. So I'll jump into a hansom and I'll raise the fiver to -redeem your bag if I have to drive all over the City of London for it!" - -Harry laughed again, and sat down to wait as Lowndes went clattering -down the stone stair-case. And as he sat there alone he suddenly grew -pale. In his rage with Lowndes he had forgotten Lowndes's daughter, and -now the thought of her turned his heart sick. He found it possible to -forgive the father for an indictable offence. It should have been -comparatively easy to forgive the daughter for receiving in her sore -need the virtual proceeds of that crime. Yet the thought that she had -done so was intolerable to him, and his heart began a sudden tattoo as -a stiff step was heard ascending the stairs. - -"Mr. Backhouse," said Harry, as that worthy reappeared, "I want a plain -answer to a plain question." - -"I shall be delighted to give you one," said Mr. Backhouse, "if it is -in my power, sir." - -"Do you know where my bag is?" - -Mr. Backhouse said nothing. - -"Then I see you do," cried Harry; "and so do I; and that was not my -question at all. Did Miss Lowndes know about it?" - -"No, sir." - -"You are sure?" - -"Certain! She never saw him take it out; he took jolly good care she -shouldn't; and he came back with a yarn as long as your leg to account -for the money." - -Harry's feelings were a revelation to himself; they were the beginning -of the greatest revelation of his life. But he cloaked them carefully -and passed the better part of an hour reading the newspaper and -exchanging an occasional remark with the lessee of the office. And no -later than a quarter to four, which was long before Harry expected him, -Lowndes was back. But he looked baffled, and there was no bag in his -hand. - -"Will either of you fellows lend me five bob for the cab?" he panted. -"I've been all over the City of London." - -Mr. Backhouse shook his head. - -"And I can't," said Harry, "for I have barely enough to take me down to -Guildford and back." - -"Then we must keep him waiting too. Here, Jimmy"--to the -office-child--"you stand by to take a telegram. Now, Ringrose, you're -going to see me play trumps. Old Bacchus has seen 'em before." Indeed, -that specimen's unwholesome face was already wreathed in dissipated -grins. - -Lowndes seized a telegram form, sat down with his hat on the back of -his head, and began writing and talking at the same time. - -"Like you, Ringrose, I have a near relative in the Church. An own -brother, my boy, who cut me off with a text more years ago than I care -to count, and hasn't spoken to me since. He's about as High as that -uncle of yours is Low, but luckily there's one point on which even the -parsons think alike. They funk a family scandal even more than other -folks, and they funk it most when they have episcopal aspirations like -my precious brother. What d'ye think of this for him, boys? 'Wire -solicitors pay me fiver by five o'clock or I shall never see -six.--Gordon Lowndes.' What price that for an ace of trumps? Not many -parsons would care to go into the witness-box and read that out at -their own brother's inquest--eh, Ringrose?" - -Harry only stared. - -"Too many fives," objected Mr. Backhouse, with an air of literary -censorship. "Make it a tenner." - -"Most noble Bacchus! For every reason, a tenner it is." - -"And it's too obscure, that about never seeing six. Six what? I know -what you mean, but trust a parson to miss the point. Your last was much -better--that about the police in the outer office." - -"We can't play the police twice. It's suicide or nothing this time--but -hold on!" He seized another form and scribbled furiously. "How about -this, then? 'Wire solicitors pay me ten pounds immediately or I am a -dead man by 5.15.--Gordon.' That'll give you time to do it, Ringrose, -with a good hansom." - -"Oh, I daresay there's another train," said Harry. "And candidly, Mr. -Lowndes, rather than drive you to this sort of thing, I should prefer -to say I've lost my luggage and be done with it." - -"Not a bit of it, my good fellow. I've got you into this mess, and I'll -get you out again or know the reason why. I assure you, Ringrose, I'm -quite enjoying it. Besides, there'll be a fiver over, thanks to old -Bacchus here. Jimmy, run like sin with this telegram. Don't say you -haven't a bob, Bacchus? Good man, you shall reap your reward when we've -got this boy his blessed bag." - -Lowndes waited until half-past four, talking boisterously the whole -time. Harry had never heard him tell more engaging stories, nor come -out with better phrases. At the half-hour, however, he drove off in his -long-suffering hansom to his brother's solicitors. And by a -quarter-past five he was back, in the same hansom, with the bag on top. - -Harry met him down below. - -"Here you are, my son!" cried Gordon Lowndes, jumping out with his face -all flushed with triumph and twitching with glee. "That reverend -brother of mine has never been known to fail when approached in a -diplomatic manner--no more will your reverend uncle, if you try my tip -on him! No, boy, it shall never happen again: jump in, and you've heaps -of time. Cabby, take this gentleman on to Waterloo main line, and I'll -pay for the lot. Will fifteen bob do you?" - -"Thank'ee, sir, it'll do very well." - -And Harry drove off with his hand aching from a pressure which he had, -indeed, returned; almost forgetting the enormity of the other's offence -in the zest, humour, and promptitude of the amend; and actually -feeling, for the moment, under a fresh obligation to Gordon Lowndes. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -A CHANGE OF LUCK. - - -Quite apart from all that came of it, this visit to Guildford was -something of a psychological experience at the time. The devotion of -Harry Ringrose to his first school had been for years second only to -his love for his old home, and now that the old home was his no longer, -the old school was the place he loved best on earth. He knew it when he -saw the well-remembered building once more in the golden light of that -summer's evening. He knew it when he knelt in the school chapel and -heard the most winning of human voices reading the school prayers. The -chapel was new since Harry's day, but the prayers were not, and they -reminded him of his own worst acts since he had heard them last. Mr. -Innes sang tenor in the hymn, as he had always done, and Harry kept his -ear on the voice he so loved; but the hymn itself was one of his old -favourites, associated for ever with his first school, and it reminded -him too. He looked about him, among the broad white collars, the -innocent pink faces, and the open, singing mouths. He wondered which of -the boys were leaving this term, and if one of them would leave with -better resolutions than he had taken away with him seven years before -... and yet.... He had not been worse than others, but better perhaps -than many; and yet there seemed no measure to his vileness, there -certainly was none to his remorse, as he knelt again and prayed as he -seemed never to have prayed since he was himself a little boy there at -school. Then the organ pealed, and Mr. Innes went down the aisle with -his grave fine face and his swinging stride. Mrs. Innes and Harry went -next; the masters followed in their black gowns; and they all formed -line in the passage outside, and the boys filed past and shook hands -and said good-night on their way up to the dormitories. - -Harry's visit extended over some days, and afterwards he used sometimes -to wish that he had cut it short after the first delightful night. He -was a creature of moods, and only a few minutes of each day were spent -in chapel. It was a novel satisfaction to him to smoke his pipe with -his old schoolmaster, to talk to him as man to man, and he knew too -late that he had talked too much. He did not mean to be bombastic about -his African adventures, but he was anxious that Mr. Innes should -realise how much he had seen. Harry was in fact a little self-conscious -with the man he had worn in his heart so many years, a little -disappointed at being treated as an old boy rather than as a young man, -and more eager to be entertaining than entertained. So when he came to -the end of his own repertoire he related with enthusiasm some of the -exploits of Gordon Lowndes. But the enthusiasm evaporated in the -process, for Mr. Innes did not disguise his disapproval of the type of -man described. And Harry himself saw Lowndes in a different light -henceforth; for this is what it is to be so young and impressionable, -and so keenly alive to the influence of others. - -The best as well as the strongest influence Harry had ever known was -that of Mr. Innes himself. He felt it as much now as ever he had -done--and in old days it had been of Innes that he would think in his -remorse for wrongdoing, and how it would hurt Innes that a boy of his -should fall so far short of his teaching. It never occurred to him then -that his hero was probably a man of the world after all, capable of -human sympathy with human weakness, and even liable to human error on -his own account. Nor did this strike him now--for Harry Ringrose was as -yet too far from being a man of the world himself. The old idolatry was -as strong in him as ever. And the old taint of personal emulation still -took a little from its worth. - -"If only I could be more like you!" he broke out when Mr. Innes had -spoken a kind, strong word or two as Harry was going. "I used to try so -hard--I will again!" - -"What, to get like me?" said Innes with a laugh. "I hope you'll be a -much better man than I am, Harry. But it's time you gave up trying to -be like anybody." - -"How do you mean?" asked Harry, his enthusiasm rather damped. - -"Be yourself, old fellow." - -"But myself is such a poor sort of thing!" - -"Never mind. Try to make yourself strong; but don't think about -yourself. Don't you see the distinction? Only think about doing your -duty and helping others; the less you dwell upon yourself, the easier -that will be. Good-bye, old fellow. Let me know how you get on." - -"Good-bye, sir," said Harry. "You don't know how you help me! You are -sending me away with a new thought altogether. I will do my best. I -will indeed." - -"I know you will," said Mr. Innes. - -So ended the visit. - - * * * * * - -The new thought made its mark on Harry's character, but it was not all -that he brought away with him from Guildford. The visit fired a train -of sufficiently important material results, though the fuse burnt -slowly, and for weeks did not seem to be burning at all. Harry came -away with the match in his pocket, in the shape of a letter of -introduction to a firm of scholastic agents. - -Mr. Innes had by no means encouraged his old boy to try to become a -schoolmaster; he feared that the two years in Africa would tell against -Harry rather than in his favour, and then without a degree there was -absolutely no future. He thought better of Harry's chances in -literature. It was he who had encouraged the boy's very earliest -literary leanings and attempts, and he took the kindest view of the -accepted verses, of which he was shown a copy; but when he heard of the -many failures which had followed that one exceeding small success, and -of all the repulses which Harry had met with in the City, his old -master was silent for some minutes, after which he sat down at his desk -and wrote the introduction there and then. - -"These fellows will get you something if anybody can," he had said; -and, indeed, the gentlemen in question, on whom Harry called on his way -back to Kensington, seemed confident of getting him something without -delay. He had come to them in the very nick of time for next term's -vacancies. They would send him immediately, and from day to day, -particulars of posts for which he could apply; they had the filling of -so many, there was little doubt but that he would obtain what he wanted -before long. Their charge would be simply five per cent. on the first -year's salary, which would probably be fifty pounds, or sixty if they -were lucky. - -Harry went home jubilant. The agents had taken down his name and his -father's name without question or comment. They declined to regard the -years in Africa as a serious disqualification, much less since he had -been a tutor there; and Harry began to think that Mr. Innes had taken -an unnecessarily black view of his chances. He knew better in a few -weeks' time. - -It is true that at first he had a thick letter every day, containing -the promised particulars of several posts. How used he grew to the -clerk's mauve round hand, to the thin sheets of paper damp from the -gelatine that laid each opening before Heaven knew how many -applicants--to the unvarying formula employed! The Reverend So-and-So, -of Dashton, Blankshire, would require in September the services of a -junior master, possessing qualifications thereupon stated with the -salary offered. The vacant posts were in all parts of the country, and -the sanguine Harry pictured himself in almost every county in England -while awaiting his fate in one quarter after another. In few cases were -the qualifications more than he actually possessed, for he was at least -capable of taking the lowest form in a preparatory school, while he -could truthfully describe himself as being "fond of games." But the -agents' clients would have none of him, and as time went on the agents' -envelopes grew thin with single enclosures, and came to hand only once -in a way. - -And yet several head-masters wrote kindly answers to Harry's -application, and two or three seemed on the verge of engaging him. Some -interviewed him at the agents' offices, and one had him down to -luncheon at his school, paying Harry's fare all the way into -Hertfordshire and back. Another only rejected him because Harry was not -a fast round-hand bowler, and a fast round-hand bowler was -essential--not for the school matches, in which the masters took no -part, but for the town, for which they played regularly every Saturday: -the music-master bowled slow left, and fast right was indispensable at -the other end. But the failures that were all but successes were only -the harder to bear, and the bitter fact remained that the lad was no -more wanted in the schoolroom than in the office. It struck him -sometimes as a grim commentary on the education he had himself -received. A thousand or two had been spent upon it, and he had not left -school a dunce. He knew as much, perhaps, as the average boy on going -up to the university from a public school, and of what use was it to -him? It did not enable him to earn his bread. He felt some bitterness -against the system which had taught him to swim only with the life-belt -of influence and money. It had been his fate to be pitched overboard -without one. - -Not that he was idle all this time. In the dreadful dog-days, when none -but the poor were left in London, and the heat in the little flat -became well-nigh insupportable, so that poor Mrs. Ringrose was quite -prostrate from its effects, her son sat in his shirt and trousers and -plied his pen again in sheer desperation. He wrote out the true -incident which he had been advised would make a capital magazine -article if written down just as he told it. So he tried to do so; and -sent the result to _Uncle Tom_. It came back almost by return of post, -with a civil note from the Editor, saying that he could not use the -story as the end was so unsatisfactory. It was unsatisfactory because -the story happened to be true, and the author never thought of meddling -with the facts, though he weighted his work with several immaterial -points which he had forgotten when telling the tale verbally. He now -flew to the opposite extreme, and dashed off a brief romance -unadulterated by a solitary fact or a single instance of original -observation. This was begun with ambitious ideas of a match with some -shilling monthly, but it was only offered to the penny weeklies, and -was burnt unprinted some few months later. - -One day, however, the day on which Harry went down to Hertfordshire at -a pedagogue's expense, and was coming back heavy with the knowledge -that he would not do, the spirit moved him to invest a penny in a comic -paper with a considerable vogue. He needed something to cheer him up, -and for all he knew this sheet might be good or bad enough to make him -smile; it was neither, but it proved to be the best investment he had -ever made. It contained a conspicuous notice to contributors, and a -number of sets of intentionally droll verses on topics of the week. -Before Harry got out at King's Cross he had the rough draft of such a -production on his shirtcuff; he wrote it out and sent it off that -night; and it appeared in the very next issue of that comic pennyworth. - -And this time Harry felt that he had done something that he could do -again; but days passed without a word from the Editor, and it looked -very much as though the one thing he could do would prove to be unpaid -work. At length he determined to find out. The paper's strange name was -_Tommy Tiddler_ ("St. Thomas must be your patron saint," said Mrs. -Ringrose), and its funereal offices were in a court off the Strand. -Harry blundered into the counting-house and asked to see the Editor, at -which an elderly gentleman turned round on a high stool and viewed him -with suspicion. What did he want with the Editor? - -"I had a contribution in the last issue," said Harry, nervously, -"and--and I wanted to know if there would be any payment." - -"But that has nothing to do with the Editor," said the old gentleman. -"That is my business." - -He got down from his stool and produced a file of the paper, in which -the price of every contribution was marked across it, with the writer's -name in red ink. Harry was asked to point out his verses, and with a -thrill he saw that they were priced at half-a-sovereign. In another -minute the coin was in his purse and he was signing the receipt with a -hand that shook. - -"Monday is our day for paying contributors," the old gentleman said. -"In future you must make it convenient to call or apply in writing on -that day." - -In future! - -On his way out he had to pass through the publishing department, where -stacks of the new issue were being carried in warm from the machines. -It was not on sale until the following day, but Harry could not resist -asking to look at a copy, for he had sent in a second set of verses on -the appearance of the first. And there they were! He found them -instantly and could have cried for joy. - -The Inner Circle was never a slower or more stifling route than on that -August afternoon; neither was Harry Ringrose ever happier in his life -than when he alighted before the train stopped at High Street, -Kensington. He had done it two weeks running. He knew that he could go -on doing it. He was earning twenty-six pounds a year, and earning it in -an hour a week! He almost ran along the hot street, and he took the -stairs three at a time. As he fumbled with his latch-key in his -excitement, he heard talking within and had momentary misgivings; but -his lucky day had dawned at last: the visitor was Fanny Lowndes. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -IT NEVER RAINS BUT IT POURS. - - -Not since the incident of the dressing-bag had Harry heard a word of -Lowndes. He had no idea what had become of that erratic financier or of -his daughter, and as to the former he no longer greatly cared. You may -have the knack of carrying others with you, but it is dangerous so to -carry them against their own convictions; a reaction is inevitable, and -Harry had undergone one against Gordon Lowndes. In the warmth of the -moment he had freely forgiven the pawning of his bag, but he found it -harder to confirm that forgiveness on subsequent and cool reflection. -And the visit to Guildford had something to do with this. It had -replaced old standards, it had brightened old ideals; and the influence -of Mr. Innes was directly antagonistic to that of Lowndes. Add the -scholastic disappointments and the literary attempts, and it will be -obvious that in the lad's life there had been little room of late for -the promoter of the H.C.S. & T.S.A. - -But of the promoter's daughter Harry Ringrose had thought often enough. -His mind had flown to her in many a difficulty, and it was only his -revised view of Lowndes which had kept him from going down to Richmond -for her sympathy upon the fate of the manuscript for which she was -responsible. Even this afternoon he had thought of her in the -Underground, side by side with his mother, as the one other person whom -he longed to tell of his success. So that it seemed little short of a -miracle to find these two together. - -Fanny had already been shown the first _Tiddler_ verses, and she now -shared Mrs. Ringrose's joy over the half-sovereign and the news of a -second accepted contribution. It was delightful to Harry to see her -kind face again, to see it happy, and to remember (as he suddenly did) -in what trouble he had seen it last. And now he noticed that the girl -was brightly dressed, with new gloves and a brilliant sunshade, and he -could not but ask after her father and his affairs. - -It appeared that the Highland Crofters' Salmon and Trout Supply -Association, Limited, was still on the tapis, but under another name -and other patronage. The Earl of Banff was no longer connected with the -enterprise, but in his stead Lowndes had secured the co-operation of -one the Hon. Pelham Tankervell, a personage who appeared to be on a -friendly footing with the light and leading of both Houses of -Parliament. This Harry gathered from a sheaf of most interesting -letters which Fanny Lowndes had brought with her at her father's -request. These letters were addressed to Mr. Tankervell by the most -illustrious persons, nearly all of whom gave that gentleman permission -to use their distinguished names as patrons of the Crofter Fisheries, -Limited, which was the old Company's new name. It was difficult to -glance over the letters without imbibing some degree of confidence, and -it was plain to Harry that Miss Lowndes herself had more than of old. -She told him that the Earl's solicitors had compounded with her father -for a substantial sum, and she pointed to her gorgeous parasol as one -of the cab-load of purchases with which her father had driven home -after cashing the lawyers' cheque. It was plain that the little house -on Richmond Hill was in much better case than heretofore; indeed, Fanny -Lowndes told Harry as much, though she did add that she no more wished -to see him Secretary of the Crofter Fisheries than of the H.C.S. & -T.S.A. - -"But you believe in it now?" he could not help saying. - -"More than I did--decidedly." - -"Then why should you dislike to see me in it?" - -"You are fit for something better; and--and I think that after this Mr. -Tankervell will expect to be made Secretary." - -Harry was neither surprised nor vexed to hear it; but he was thinking -less of this last sentence than of the last but one. - -"You call writing for the _Tiddler_ something better?" - -"For you--I do. It is a beginning, at any rate." - -Until her train went he was telling her of his prose flights and -failures, and she was bemoaning her share in one of them. The High -Street seemed a lonely place as he walked home to the flat. Yet the day -was still the happiest that he had spent in London. - -The third week he sent a couple of offerings to _Tommy Tiddler_, but -only one of them got in. He tried them with two again. Meanwhile there -was an unexpected development in an almost forgotten quarter. - -After nearly a month's interval, there came one more thin envelope from -the scholastic agents; and this time it was a Mrs. Bickersteth, of the -Hollies, Teddington, who required a resident master immediately, to -teach very little boys. Very little also was the salary offered. It was -thirty pounds; and Harry was for tossing the letter into the first fire -they had sat over in the flat, when his mother looked up from the socks -which she was knitting for him, and took an unexpected line. - -"I wish you to apply for it," said she. - -"What, leave you for thirty pounds, when I can make twenty-six at -home?" - -"That will make fifty-six; for you would be sure to have some time to -yourself, and you say the verses only take you an hour on the average. -At any rate I wish you to apply, my boy. I will tell you why if they -take you." - -"Well, they won't; so here goes--to please you." - -He sat down and dashed off an answer there and then, but with none of -the care which he had formerly expended on such compositions. And -instead of the old unrest until he knew his fate, he forthwith thought -no more about the matter. So the telegram took him all aback next -morning. He was to meet Mrs. Bickersteth at three o'clock at the -agents'. By four he had the offer of the vacant mastership in her -school. - -It was the irony of Harry's fate that a month ago he would have jumped -at the chance and flown home on the wings of ecstasy; now he asked for -grace to consult his mother, but promised to wire his decision that -evening, and went home very sorry that he had applied. - -Mrs. Ringrose sighed to see his troubled face. - -"Do you mean to tell me it has come to nothing?" - -"No; the billet's mine if I want it." - -"And you actually hesitated?" - -"Yes, mother, because I do not want it. That's the fact of the matter." - -Mrs. Ringrose sat silent and looked displeased. - -"Is the woman not nice?" she asked presently. - -"She seemed all right; rather distinguished in her way; but the hours -are atrocious, and I made that my excuse for thinking twice about -accepting such a salary. I have promised to send a telegram this -evening. But, oh, mother, I don't want to leave you; not to go to a -dame's school and thirty pounds a year!" - -"You would get your board as well." - -"But you would be all alone." - -"I could go away for a little. Your Uncle Spencer has asked me to go to -the seaside next month with your aunt and the girls. I--I think it -would do me good." - -"You could leave me in charge, and I would write verses all the time." - -"It would be much cheaper to shut up the flat. Then we should be really -saving. And--Harry--it is necessary!" - -Then the truth came out, and with it the real reason why Mrs. Ringrose -wished him to accept the cheap mastership at Teddington. She was trying -to keep house upon a hundred and fifty a year; so far she was failing -terribly. The rent of the flat was sixty-five; that left eighty-five -pounds a year, or but little over thirty shillings a week for all -expenses. It was true they kept no servant, but the porter's wife -charged five shillings a week, and when the washing was paid there was -seldom more than a pound over, even when the stockings and the -handkerchiefs were done at home. A pound a week to feed and clothe the -two of them! It sounded ample--the tailors had not even sent in their -bill yet--and yet somehow it was lamentably insufficient. Mrs. Ringrose -had been a rich woman all her life until now; that was the whole secret -of the matter. Even Harry, ready as he still was for an extravagance, -was in everyday minutiæ more practical than his dear mother. She never -called in the porter without giving him a shilling. She seldom paid for -anything at the door without slipping an additional trifle into the -recipient's hand. And once when some Highlanders played their bagpipes -and danced their sword-dances in the back street below, she flung a -florin through the window because she had no smaller silver, and to -give coppers she was ashamed. - -Harry was the last to take exception to traits which he had himself -inherited, but he had long foreseen that disaster must come unless he -could earn something to add to their income, and so balance the bread -he ate and the tea he swallowed. And now disaster had come, insomuch -that the next quarter's money was condemned, and Harry's duty was -clear. Yet still he temporised. - -"A month ago it would have been bad enough," said he; "but surely we -might hang together now that I have got a start. Ten bob a week! You -shall see me creep up to a pound and then to two!" - -"You must first make sure of the ten bob," said Mrs. Ringrose, who had -a quaint way of echoing her son's slang, and whose sanguine temperament -had been somewhat damped by late experience. - -"I am sure of it. Are not three weeks running good enough?" - -"But you say they only take you an hour, and that you could spare at -the school, even though you had to do it in your own bedroom. Besides, -it need only be for one term if you didn't like it; to economise till -Christmas, that is all I ask." - -Harry knew what he ought to say. He was troubled and vexed at his own -perverseness. Yet all his instincts told him that he was finding a -footing at last--humble enough, Heaven knew!--on the ladder to which he -felt most drawn. And a man does not go against his instincts in a -moment. - -"Come, my boy," urged Mrs. Ringrose. "Send the telegram and be done -with it." - -"Wait!" cried Harry, as the bell rang. "There's the post. It may be -that my story is accepted." - -He meant the story which never was accepted, but whose fitness for the -flames he had yet to realise. The letter, however, did not refer to -either of his prose attempts. It was from the Editor of _Tommy -Tiddler_, enclosing both sets of verses which Harry had sent him that -week, and very civilly stating that they were not quite up to his -contributor's "usual mark." - -Harry went straight out of the flat and was gone some minutes. - -"I've sent that telegram," said he when he came back. "I should have -told you that the term begins this next Saturday, and I've got to be -there on Friday evening." - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -A DAME'S SCHOOL. - - -The Hollies, Teddington, was situated in a quiet road off the main -street. A wooden gate, varnished and grained, displayed a brass plate -with Mrs. Bickersteth's name engraved upon it, while that of the house -was lettered in black on one of the stucco gate-posts, and perhaps -justified by the few evergreens which grew within. A low wall was -topped by a sort of balustrade, likewise stuccoed, and behind this wall -stood half-a-dozen cropped and yellowing limes. - -The house itself was hardly what Harry had expected so far from town. -He seemed to have passed it daily for the last four months, for it was -the plain, tall, semi-detached, "desirable" and even "commodious -residence," which abounds both in Kensington and Camden Town, in the -groves of St. John's Wood and on the heights of Notting Hill. A flight -of exceedingly clean steps led up to a ponderous front door with a -mighty knocker; on the right were two long windows which evidently -stretched to the floor, for a wire screen protected the lower part of -each; and above these screens, late on the Friday afternoon, some eight -or nine rather dismal little faces were pressed to watch the arrival of -the new master. - -The cabman carried the luggage up the steps and was duly overpaid. The -servant shut the great door with a bang--it was a door that would not -shut without one--and Harry Ringrose had gone to school again at -one-and-twenty. - -He was shown into a very nice drawing-room--the kind of drawing-room to -reassure an anxious parent--and here for a minute he was alone. Through -a thin wall came a youthful buzz, and Harry distinctly heard, "I wonder -if he's strict?" He also heard an irritable, weak, feminine voice -exclaiming: "Be silent--be silent--or you shall all have fifty lines!" -Then the door opened, and he was shaking hands with Mrs. Bickersteth. - -The lady was short, stout, and rather more than elderly, yet with a -fresh-coloured face as free from wrinkles as it was full of character, -and yellow hair which age seemed powerless to bleach. Her manner was -not without kindness or distinction, but neither quality was quite so -noticeable as when Harry had seen her at the agents' in her mantle and -bonnet. Indeed the fresh cheeks had a heightened tinge, and the light -eyes a brightness, which Harry Ringrose was destined to know better as -the visible signs of Mrs. Bickersteth's displeasure. - -"We are a little late," began the schoolmistress (who had this way of -speaking to the boys, and who early discovered a propensity to treat -Harry as one of them): "we are a little later than I expected, Mr. -Ringrose. Now that we have come, however, we will say no more about -it." - -And the lady gave a perfunctory little laugh, meant to sound indulgent, -but Harry had a true ear for such things, and he made his apologies a -little stiffly. If Mrs. Bickersteth had named an hour he would have -made it his business to be there by that hour; as she had but said the -afternoon, he had presumed that five o'clock would be time enough. Mrs. -Bickersteth replied that she called five o'clock the evening, with a -playfully magnanimous smile which convinced Harry even less than her -laugh: he had a presentiment of the temper which it masked. - -"But pray let us say no more about it," cried the lady once more. "I -only thought that it would be a good opportunity for you to get to know -the little men. I am glad to say that all the boarders have arrived; -they are now, as I daresay you hear, in the next room with the other -governess. Dear me, what am I saying! You see, Mr. Ringrose, I have -always had two governesses in the house hitherto. Mr. Scrafton, who -comes every morning (except Saturday) to teach the elder boys, has been -our only regular master for many years, though a drill-sergeant also -comes twice a week from the barracks at Hampton Court. But in taking a -master into my house, in place of one of the governesses, I am trying -an experiment which I feel sure we will do our best to justify." - -Harry replied as suitably as possible, but made more than one mental -note. His engagement had not been termed an experiment at their -previous interview. Neither had he heard the name of Mr. Scrafton until -this moment. - -"I hear the servant taking your portmanteau upstairs," continued Mrs. -Bickersteth, "and presently I shall show you your room, as I am going -to ask you to oblige me by always wearing slippers in the house. The -day-boys change their boots the moment they arrive. Before we go -upstairs, however, there is one matter about which I should like to -speak. We have a delicate little fellow here whose name is Woodman, and -whose parents--very superior, rich people--live down in Devonshire, and -trust the little man entirely to my care. He is really much better here -than he is at home; still he has to have a fire in his room throughout -the winter, and consequently he cannot sleep with the other boys. -Hitherto one of the governesses has slept in his room, but now I am -going to take the opportunity of putting you there, as I am sorry to -say he is a boy who requires firmness as well as care. If you will -accompany me upstairs I will now show you the room." - -It was at the end of a passage at the top of the house, and a very nice -room Harry thought it. The beds were in opposite corners, a screen -round the smaller one, and the space between at present taken up with -Harry's portmanteau and the boy's boxes, which were already partially -unpacked. A fire burnt in the grate; a number of texts were tacked to -the walls. Harry was still looking about him when Mrs. Bickersteth made -a dive into one of the little boy's open boxes and came up with a -gaily-bound volume in each hand. - -"More story-books!" cried she. "I have a good mind to confiscate them. -I do not approve of the number of books his parents encourage him to -read. If you ever catch him reading up here, Mr. Ringrose, I must ask -you to report the matter instantly to me, as I regret to say that he -has given trouble of that kind before." - -Harry bowed obedience. - -"Little Woodman," continued the schoolmistress, "though sharp enough -when he likes, is, I am sorry to say, one of our most indolent boys. He -would read all day if we would let him. However, he is going to Mr. -Scrafton this term, so he will have to exert himself at last! And now, -if you like your room, Mr. Ringrose, I will leave you to put on your -slippers, and will take you into the schoolroom when you come -downstairs." - -The schoolroom was long and bare, but unconventional in that a long -dining-table did away with desks, and the boys appeared to be shaking -off their depression when Harry and his employer entered five minutes -later. They were making a noise through which the same angry but -ineffectual voice could be heard threatening a hundred lines all round -as the door was thrown open. The noise ceased that moment. The -governess rose in an apologetic manner; while all the boys wore guilty -faces, but one who was buried in a book, sitting hunched up on the -floor. Like most irascible persons, however, the schoolmistress had her -moments of conspicuous good-temper, and this was one. - -"These are the little men," said she. "Children, this is your new -master. Miss Maudsley--Mr. Ringrose." - -And Harry found himself bowing to the lady with the voice, a lady of -any age, but no outward individuality; even as he did so, however, Mrs. -Bickersteth beckoned to the governess; and in another moment Harry was -alone with the boys. - -The new master had never felt quite so shy or so self-conscious as he -did during the next few minutes; it was ten times worse than going to -school as a new boy. The fellows stood about him, staring frankly, and -one in the background whispered something to another, who told him to -shut up in a loud voice. Harry seated himself on the edge of the table, -swung a leg, stuck his hands in his pockets (where they twitched) and -asked the other boys their names. - -"James Wren," said the biggest, who looked twelve or thirteen, and was -thickly freckled. - -"Ernest Wren," said a smaller boy with more freckles. - -"Robertson." - -"Murray." - -"Gifford." - -"Simes." - -"Perkins." - -"Stanley." - -"And that fellow on the floor?" - -"Woodman," said James Wren. "I say, Woodman, don't you hear? Can't you -get up when you're spoken to?" - -Woodman shut his book, keeping, however, a finger in the place, and got -up awkwardly. He was one of the smallest of the boys, but he wore long -trousers, and beneath them irons which jingled as he came forward with -a shambling waddle. He had a queer little face, dark eyes and the -lightest of hair; and he blushed a little as, alone among the boys, but -clearly unconscious of the fact, he proceeded to shake hands with the -new master. - -"So you are Woodman?" said Harry. - -"Yes, sir," said the boy. "Have you come instead of Mr. Scrafton, sir?" - -"No, I have come as well." - -At this there were groans, of which Harry thought it best to take no -notice. He observed, however, that Woodman was not among the groaners, -and to get upon safe ground he asked him what the book was. - -"One of Ballantyne's, sir. It's magnificent!" And the dark eyes glowed -like coals in what was again a very pale face. - -"_The Red Eric_," said Harry, glancing at the book. "I remember it -well. You're in an exciting place, eh?" - -"Yes, sir: the mutiny, sir." - -"Then don't let me stop you--run along!" said Harry, smiling; and -Woodman was back on the floor and aboard his whaler before the new -master realised that this was hardly the way in which he had been -instructed to treat the boy who was always reading. - -But he went on chatting with the others, and in quite a few minutes he -felt that, as between the boys and himself, all would be plain sailing. -They were nice enough boys--one or two a little awkward--one or two -vocally unacquainted with the first vowel--but all of them disposed to -welcome a man (Harry thought) after the exclusive authority of resident -ladies. Traces of a demoralising rule were not long in asserting -themselves, as when Robertson gave Simes a sly kick, and Simes started -off roaring to tell Mrs. Bickersteth, only to be hauled back by Harry -and given to understand (evidently for the first time) that only little -girls told tales. The bigger boys seemed to breathe again when he said -so. Then they all stood at one of the windows in the failing light, and -Harry talked cricket to them, and even mentioned his travels, whereat -they clamoured for adventures; but the new master was not such a fool -as to play all his best cards first. They were still at the window when -the gate opened and in walked a squat silk-hatted gentleman with a -yellow beard and an evening paper. - -"Here comes old Lennie!" exclaimed Gifford, who was the one with the -most to say for himself. - -"Who?" said Harry. - -"Lennie Bickersteth, sir--short for Leonard," replied Gifford, while -the other boys laughed. - -"But you mustn't speak of him like that," said Harry severely. - -"Oh, yes, I must!" cried Gifford, excited by the laughter. "We all call -him Lennie, and Reggie Reggie, and Baby Baby; don't we, you fellows? -Bicky likes us to--it makes it more like home." - -"Well," said Harry, "I know what Mrs. Bickersteth would _not_ like, and -if you say _that_ again I shall smack your head." - -Which so discomfited and subdued the excitable Gifford that Harry liked -him immensely from that moment, and not the less when he discovered -that the boy's incredible information was perfectly correct. - -Mrs. Bickersteth was a widow lady with three grown-up children, whom -she insisted on the boys addressing, not merely by their Christian -names, but by familiar abbreviations of the same. Leonard and Reginald -were City men who went out every morning with a bang of the big front -door, and came home in the evening with a rattle of their latch-keys. -Both were short and stout like their mother, with beards as yellow as -her hair, while Leonard, the elder, was really middle-aged; but it was -against the rules for the boys to address or refer to them as anything -but Lennie and Reggie, and only the governess and Harry were permitted -to say "Mr. Bickersteth." As for the baby of the family, who was Baby -still to all her world, she was certainly some years younger; and the -name was more appropriate in her case, since she wore the family hair -down to eyes of infantile blue, and had the kind of giggle which seldom -survives the nursery. She knew no more about boys than any other lady -in the house, but was a patently genuine and good-hearted girl, and -deservedly popular in the school. - -When Harry went to bed that night he smelt the smoke of a candle, -though he carried his own in his hand. Woodman was apparently fast -asleep, but, on being questioned, he won Harry's heart by confessing -without hesitation or excuse. He had _The Red Eric_ and a candle-end -under his pillow, and the wax was still soft when he gave them up. -Harry sat on the side of his bed and duly lectured him on the -disobedience and the danger of the detected crime, while the criminal -lay with his great eyes wide open, and his hair almost as white as the -pillow beneath it. When he had done the small boy said-- - -"If they had spoken to me like that, sir, last time, sir, I never -should have done it again." - -"You shouldn't have done it in any case," said Harry. "You've got to -promise me that it's the last time." - -"It's so hard to go asleep the first night of the term, sir," sighed -Woodman. "You keep thinking of this time yesterday and this time last -week, sir." - -Harry's eye was on the little irons lying on top of the little heap of -clothes, but he put on the firmest face he could. - -"That's the same for all," he said. "How do you know I don't feel like -that myself? Now, you've got to give me your word that you won't ever -do this again!" - -"But suppose they say what they said before, sir?" - -"Give me your word," said Harry. - -"Very well, sir, I never will." - -"Then I give you mine, Woodman, to say nothing about this; but mind--I -expect you to keep yours." - -The great eyes grew greater, and then very bright. "I'll promise not to -open another book this term, sir--if you like, sir," the little boy -cried. But Harry told him that was nonsense and to go to sleep, and -turned in himself glowing with new ideas. If he could but influence -these small boys as Innes had influenced him! The thought kept him -awake far into his first night at Teddington. His life there had begun -more happily than he could have dared to hope. - -Morning brought the day-boys and work which was indeed within even -Harry's capacity. It consisted principally in "hearing" lessons set by -Mrs. Bickersteth; and it revealed the educational system in vogue in -that lady's school. It was the system of question and answer, the -question read from a book by the teacher, the answer repeated by rote -by the boy, and on no condition to be explained or enlarged upon by -extemporary word of mouth. Harry fell into this error, but was promptly -and publicly checked by the head-mistress, with whom some of the elder -boys were studying English history (from the point of view of Mrs. -Markham and her domestic circle) at the other end of the baize-covered -dining-table. - -"It is quite unnecessary for you to enter into explanations, Mr. -Ringrose," said Mrs. Bickersteth down the length of the table. "I have -used _Little Steps_ for very many years, and I am sure that it explains -itself, in a way that little people can understand, better than you can -explain it. Where it does not go into particulars, _Little Arthur_ -does; so no impromptu explanations, I beg." - -Whereafter Harry received the answers to the questions in _Little Steps -to Great Events_ without comment, and was equally careful to take no -explanatory liberties with _Mangnall's Questions_ or with the _Child's -Guide to Knowledge_ when these works came under his nose in due course. - -Saturday was, of course, a half-holiday; nor could the term yet be said -to have begun in earnest. It appeared there were some weekly boarders -who would only return on the Monday, while Mr. Scrafton also was not -due until that day. Meanwhile an event occurred on the Saturday -afternoon which quite took the new master's mind off the boys who were -beginning to fill it so pleasantly: an event which perplexed and -distracted him on the very threshold of this new life, and yet one with -a deeper and more sinister significance than even Harry Ringrose -supposed. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -AT FAULT. - - -Harry had been requested to put on his boots in order to take the elder -boys for a walk. He was to keep them out for about an hour and a half, -but nothing had been said as to the direction he should take, and he -was indiscreet enough to start without seeking definite instruction on -the point. - -"Do you always walk two-and-two?" he asked the boys, as they made for -the High Street in this doleful order. - -"Yes, sir," said two or three. - -"But we needn't if you give us leave not to," added the younger Wren, -with a small boy's quickness to take advantage. - -"No, you must do as you always do, at any rate until we get out of the -village," said Harry as they came to the street. "Now which way do you -generally go?" - -The boys saw their chance of the irregular, and were not slow to air -their views. Bushey Park appeared to be the customary resort, and the -proverbial mischief of familiarity was discernible in the glowing -description which one boy gave of Kingston Market on a Saturday -afternoon and in the enthusiasm with which another spoke for Kneller -Hall. Richmond Park, said a third, would be better than Bushey Park, -only it was rather a long walk. - -To Harry, however, who had come round by Wimbledon the day before, it -was news, and rather thrilling news, that Richmond Park was within a -walk at all. The boys told him it would be near enough when they made a -bridge at Teddington. - -"There's the ferry," said one; and when Harry said, "Oh, there is a -ferry, then?" a little absently, his bias was apparent to the boys. - -"The ferry, the ferry," they wheedled, jumping at the idea of such an -adventure. - -"It's splendid over Ham Common, sir." - -"The ferry, sir, the ferry!" - -Of course it was very weak in Harry, but the notion of giving the boys -a little extra pleasure had its own attraction for him, and his only -scruple was the personal extravagance involved. However, he had some -silver in his pocket, and the ferryman's toll only came to pennies that -Harry could not grudge when he saw the delight of the boys as they -tumbled aboard. One of them, indeed, nearly fell into the river--which -caused the greatest boy of them all his first misgivings. But across -Ham fields they hung upon his arms in the friendliest and pleasantest -fashion, begging and coaxing him to tell them things about Africa; and -he was actually in the midst of the yarn that had failed on paper, when -there occurred on the Common that which was to puzzle him in the future -even more than it startled him at the moment. A lady and gentleman -strolled into his ken from the opposite direction, and that instant the -story ceased. - -"Go on, sir, go on! What happened then?" - -"I'll tell you presently; here are some friends of mine, and you -fellows must wait a moment." - -He shook them off and stepped across the road to where his friends were -passing without seeing him. Thus his back was turned to the boys, who -fortunately could not see how he blushed as he raised his hat. - -"It's Mr. Ringrose!" cried Fanny Lowndes. - -"The deuce it is!" her father exclaimed. "Why, Ringrose, what the -blazes are you doing down here, and who are your young friends?" - -"I'm awfully sorry I didn't let you know," said Harry, "but the whole -thing was so sudden. As I told you when you came to see us, Miss -Lowndes, I have been trying for a mastership for some time; and just as -I had given it up----" - -"You have got one!" - -"Yes, quite unexpectedly, at the beginning of this week." - -The girl looked both glad and sorry, but her father's nose was -twitching with amusement and his eyes twinkling in their gold frames. - -"You did well to take what you could get," said he, lowering his voice -so that nothing could be heard across the road. "Writing for your -living means writing for your life, and that's no catch; but by Jove, -Ringrose, you ought to get off some good things with such a capital -safety-valve as boys always on hand! When you can't think of a rhyme, -run round and box their ears till one comes. When you get a rejected -manuscript, try hammering their knuckles with the ruler! Where's the -school, Ringrose, and who keeps it?" - -Harry hung his head. - -"I am almost ashamed to tell you. It's a dame's school--at Teddington." - -"A dame's school at Teddington! Not Mrs. Bickersteth's?" - -"Yes--do you know it?" - -Harry had looked up in time to catch the other's expression, and it was -a very singular one. The lad had never seen such a look on any other -face, but on this face he had seen it once before. He had seen it in -the train, during the journey back to London, on the day that he could -never forget. It was the look that had afterwards struck him as a -guilty look, though, to be sure, he had never thought about it from the -moment when he took up his father's letter, and saw at a glance that it -was genuine, until this one. - -"Do I know it?" echoed Lowndes, recovering himself. "Only by -repute--only by repute. So you have gone there!" he added below his -breath, strangely off his guard again in a moment. - -"Come," said Harry, "do you know something against the school, or -what?" - -"Oh, dear, no; nothing against it, and very little about it," replied -Lowndes. "Only the school is known in these parts--people in Richmond -send their boys there--that is all. I have heard very good accounts of -it. Are you the only master?" - -"No, there's a daily pedagogue, named Scrafton, who seems to be -something of a character, but I haven't seen him yet. Do you know -anything about him?" - -The question was innocently asked, for Harry's curiosity had been -aroused by the repeated necessity of preventing the boys from opening -their hearts to him about Mr. Scrafton. If he had stopped to think, he -would have seen that he had the answer already--and Lowndes would not -have lost his temper. - -"How should I know anything about him?" he cried. "Haven't I just asked -you if you were the only master? Either your wits are deserting you, -Ringrose, or you wish to insult me, my good fellow. In any case we must -be pushing on, and so, I have no doubt, must you." - -Harry could not understand this ebullition, which was uttered with -every sign of personal offence, from the ridiculously stiff tones to -the remarkably red face. He simply replied that he had spoken without -thinking and had evidently been misunderstood, and he turned without -more ado to shake hands with Miss Lowndes. The father's goodwill had -long ceased to be a matter of vital importance to him; but it went to -his heart to see how pale Miss Fanny had turned during this exchange of -words, and to feel the trembling pressure of that true friend's hand. -It was as though she were asking him to forgive her father, at whose -side she walked so dejectedly away that it was not pure selfishness -which made Harry Ringrose long just then to change places with Gordon -Lowndes. - -The whole colloquy had not lasted more than two or three minutes; yet -it had ended in the most distinct rupture that had occurred, so far, -between Harry and his parents' friend; and that about the most minute -and seemingly insignificant point which had ever been at issue between -them. - -The boys found their new master poor company after this. He finished -his story in perfunctory fashion, nor would he tell another. He not -only became absent-minded and unsociable, but displayed an unsuspected -capacity for strictness which was really irritability. More than one -young wiseacre whispered a romantic explanation, but the majority -remembered that it was to the gentleman old Ring-o'-ring-o'-roses had -chiefly addressed himself; and the general and correct impression was -that the former had been "waxy" with old Ring-in-the-nose. Harry's -nickname was not yet fixed. - -Those, however, with whom he had been "waxy" in his turn had a -satisfaction in store for them at the school, where Mrs. Bickersteth -awaited them, watch in hand, and with an angry spot on each -fresh-coloured cheek. She ordered the boys downstairs to take their -boots off, and in the same breath requested Mr. Ringrose to speak to -her in the study, in a tone whose significance the boys knew better -than Harry. - -"I was under the impression, Mr. Ringrose, that I said an hour and a -half?" began the lady, with much bitter-sweetness of voice and manner. - -Harry pulled out his own watch, and began apologising freely; he was -some twenty minutes late. - -"When I say an hour and a half," continued the schoolmistress, "I do -not mean two hours. I beg you will remember that in future. May I ask -where you have been?" - -Harry said they had been to Richmond Park. The lady's eyes literally -blazed. - -"You have walked my boys to Richmond Park and back? Really, Mr. -Ringrose, I should have thought you would know better. The distance is -much too great. I am excessively angry to hear they have been so far." - -"I beg your pardon," said Harry, with humility, "but I don't think the -distance was quite so great as you imagine. Though we have walked back -through Kingston, we made a short cut in going, for I took the liberty -of taking the boys across the river in the ferry-boat." - -This was the last straw, and for some moments Mrs. Bickersteth was -practically speechless with indignation. Then with a portentous -inclination of her yellow head, "It _was_ a liberty," said she; "a very -great liberty indeed, I call it! I requested you to take them for a -walk. I never dreamt of your risking their lives on the river. Have the -goodness to understand in future, Mr. Ringrose, that I strongly -disapprove of the boys going near the river. It is a most undesirable -place for them--most unsootable in every way. Excessively angry I am!" - -This speech might have been heard over half the house, and by the end -Harry was fairly angry himself. But for his mother, and for a -resolution he had made not to take Mrs. Bickersteth seriously, but to -put up with all he possibly could, it is highly probable that the -Hollies, Teddington, would have known Harry Ringrose for twenty-four -hours only. As it was he maintained a sarcastic silence, and, when the -wrathful lady had quite finished, left her with a bow and the assurance -that what had happened should not occur again; he merely permitted -himself to put some slight irony into his tone. - -And, indeed, the insulting character of a reprimand which was not, -however, altogether unmerited, worried him far less in early retrospect -than the inexplicable manner of Gordon Lowndes on Ham Common. What did -he know about the school? What could have brought that odd look back to -his face? And why in the world should the master of an excellent temper -have lost it on provocation so ludicrously slight? These were the -questions that kept Harry Ringrose awake and restless in the still -small hours of the Sabbath morning. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -MR. SCRAFTON. - - -In the basement was a good-sized but ill-lighted room where three long -tables, resting on trestles, were sufficiently crowded on the four days -of the week when the day-boys stayed to dinner. On the two -half-holidays only one table was in use, and the boarders scarcely -filled it, with Miss Maudsley and Mr. Ringrose in state at either end. -But on Sundays all meals were in the big schoolroom, and were graced by -the presence of Mrs. Bickersteth's City sons, who brought with them a -refreshing whiff of the outside world, besides contributing to Harry's -enjoyment in other ways. He never forgot those Sunday meals. He was -fond of describing them to his friends in after years. - -At breakfast on his first Sunday he was quite sure that Mrs. -Bickersteth had heard of the death of a near relative. Her face and -voice were those of a chief mourner, and she appeared to be shedding -tears as she heard the boys their Collect at the breakfast table, -rewarding those who knew it with half a cold sausage apiece. The boys -were by no means badly fed, but that half-sausage was their one weekly -variant from porridge and bread-and-butter for breakfast, and they used -to make pathetically small bites of it. Mrs. Bickersteth, however, -scarcely broke her fast, but would suffer all day, and every Sabbath, -from what Harry came to consider some acute though intermittent form of -religious melancholia. Towards the end of breakfast the sons would come -down in wool-work slippers, a little heavy after "sleeping in," and it -was not at this meal that they were most entertaining. - -The next hour was one of the few which Harry had entirely to himself. -Most days he was on duty from eight in the morning to half-past eight -at night, but the hour between Sunday breakfast and morning service was -the new master's very own, and he spent it in a way which surely would -have made Mrs. Bickersteth's remarkable hair stand straight on end. -Even Sunday letter-writing was forbidden in her Sabbatarian household, -and yet Harry had the temerity to spend this hour in composing vulgar -verses for the _Tiddler_. He had discovered that contributions for the -Saturday's issue must reach the office on the Monday, and it is to be -feared that the consequent urgency of the enterprise led him into still -more reprehensible excesses. What he could not finish in his bedroom he -would mentally continue in church, whither it was his duty to take the -majority of the boys, while the rest accompanied the Bickersteths to -chapel. - -The dinner that followed was what Harry enjoyed. It was an excellent -dinner, and all but Mrs. Bickersteth were invariably in the best of -spirits. This lady used to stand at the head of her table and carve the -hissing round of secular beef with an air of Christian martyrdom quite -painful to watch. Not that it affected her play with the carving-knife, -which was so skilful that Harry Ringrose used to wonder why the -schoolmistress must needs lap a serviette round either forearm, and a -third about her ample waist, for the better protection of her Sunday -silk. This, however, was a trick of the whole family, who might have -formed the nucleus of a Society for the Preservation of Sunday Clothes. -Thus Reggie, the younger and more dapper son, used to appear on these -occasions in a brown velvet coat and waistcoat, with his monogram on -every button, but would mar the effect by tucking his table-napkin well -in at the neck and spreading it out so as to cover as much as possible -of his person. Lennie, the elder and more sedate, though he had no such -grandeur to protect, nevertheless took similar precautions; while the -good-natured Baby used to pull off a pair of immensely long cuffs, the -height of a recent fashion, and solemnly place them on the table beside -her tumbler, before running any risks. - -Water was the beverage of one and all, yet the spirits of the majority -would rise with the progress of the meal. Reggie, who was a very -facetious person, would begin to say things nicely calculated to make -the boys titter; the elder brother would air a grumpy wit of his own; -and Mrs. Bickersteth would shake the cap awry on her yellow head and -beg them both to desist. The good-hearted Baby would add her word in -vindication of the harmless character of her brothers' jokes, and at -the foot of the table the governess would trim her sails with great -dexterity, looking duly depressed when she caught Mrs. Bickersteth's -eye and coyly tickled on encountering those of the gentlemen. Harry sat -between Leonard Bickersteth and a line of little boys, and facing the -flaxen-haired Baby, who gave him several kindly, reassuring smiles for -which he liked her. The young men also treated him in a friendly -fashion; but he was quite as careful as his fair colleague not to -commit himself to too open an appreciation of their sallies. - -The boys were in Harry's charge for the afternoon, but it seemed that -on Sundays they never went for a walk for walking's sake. Occasionally, -as it turned out, he would be requested to take them to some children's -service; but on that first Sunday, and as a rule, they spent the -afternoon in the smaller school-room upstairs, where some strictly -Sabbatarian periodicals were given out for the day's use, and only such -books as _Sunday Echoes in Week-day Hours_, and the stories of Miss -Hesba Stretton, permitted to be read. Harry used to feel sorry for -little Woodman on these occasions. He would catch the small boy's great -eyes wandering wistfully to the shelf in which his _Mangnall's -Questions_ and _The Red Eric_ showed side by side; or the eyes would -stare into vacancy by the hour together, seeing doubtless his -Devonshire home, and all that his "very superior people" would be doing -there at the moment. Harry liked Woodman the best of the boys, partly -because he had a variety of complaints but never uttered one. The new -master was much too human, and perhaps as much too unsuited by -temperament for his work, not to have favourites from the first, and -Woodman and Gifford were their names. - -After tea they all went off to evening service, and after that came a -peaceful half-hour in the pretty drawing-room, where the boys sang -hymns till bed-time. There was something sympathetic in this -proceeding, the conduct of which was in Baby Bickersteth's kindly -hands. The young lady presided at the piano, which she played -admirably, and the boys stood round her in a semicircle, and each boy -chose his favourite hymn. Lennie and Reggie joined in from their -chairs, and Mrs. Bickersteth's lips would move as she followed the -words in a hymn-book. When the last hymn had been sung, the -schoolmistress read prayers; and when the boys said good-night she -kissed each of them in a way that quite touched Harry on the Sunday -evening after his arrival. He saw the boys to bed in a less captious -frame of mind than had been his all day, and when he turned in himself -he was rather ashamed of some of his previous sentiments towards the -schoolmistress. He had seen the pathos of her pious depression, and he -was beginning to divine the hourly irritants of keeping school at Mrs. -Bickersteth's time of life. Instead of his cynical resolve not to take -her seriously, he lay down chivalrously vowing to resent nothing from a -woman who was also old. He seemed to have seen a new side of the -schoolmistress, and henceforth she had his sympathy. - -Indeed there was a something human in all these people; they had kind -hearts, when all was said; and Harry Ringrose began to feel that for a -time at any rate, he need not be unhappy in their midst. He had still -to encounter the master spirit of the place. - -When all the boys were standing round the long dining-table next -morning, having taken turns in reading a Chapter aloud, Mrs. -Bickersteth made an announcement as she closed her Testament. - -"This term," said she, "Mr. Scrafton is coming at half-past ten instead -of at eleven, and those boys who are to go to him will be in their -places in the upper schoolroom at twenty-five minutes past ten each -morning." - -A list followed of the boys who were promoted to go to Mr. Scrafton -that term; it ended with the name of little Woodman. Harry happened to -be engaged in the background in the intellectual task of teaching a -tiny child his alphabet. He could not help seeing some ruddy cheeks -turn pale as the list was read; but Woodman, with a fine -regardlessness, was reading a letter from Devonshire behind another -boy's back. - -Punctually at ten-thirty a thunderous knock resounded from the front -door, and Harry was sorry that he had not been looking out of the -window. He saw Mrs. Bickersteth jump up and bustle from the room with a -most solicitous expression, and he heard a loud voice greeting her -heartily in the hall. Heavy feet ran creaking up the stairs a few -minutes later, and Mrs. Bickersteth returned to her task of hearing -tables and setting sums. - -Meanwhile Harry was devoting himself to the very smallest boys in the -school, mites of five and six, whose nurses brought them in the morning -and came back for them at one o'clock. About eleven, however, Mrs. -Bickersteth suggested that these little men would be the better for a -breath of air, and would Mr. Ringrose kindly take them into the -back-garden for ten minutes, and see that they did not run on the -grass? Now, Harry's pocket was still loaded with a missive addressed to -the editor of _Tommy Tiddler_, which obviously must be posted by his -own hand, and might even now be too late. He therefore asked permission -to go as far as the pillar-box at the corner, in order to post a -letter; and Mrs. Bickersteth, who was luckily in the best of tempers, -not only nodded blandly, but added that she would be excessively -obliged if Mr. Ringrose would also post some letters of hers which he -would find upon the hall-table. So Harry sallied forth, with an infant -in sailor-clothes holding each of his hands, and whom should he find -loitering at the corner but Gordon Lowndes? - -"Why, Ringrose," cried he, "this is well met indeed! I was just on my -way to have a word with you. I was looking for the house." - -The hearty manner and the genial tone would have been enough for Harry -at an earlier stage of his acquaintance with this man; but now -instinctively he knew them for a cloak, and he would not relinquish the -small boys' hands for the one which he felt was awaiting his, though -his eyes had never fallen from Lowndes's spectacles. - -"I am not sure that you would have been able to see me," was his reply. -"I am on duty even now. What was the point?" - -"Is it impossible for me to have a word with you alone?" - -Harry told the little boys to walk on slowly to the pillar. "It will -literally have to be a word," he added pointedly. Yet his curiosity was -whetted. What could the man want with him here and now? - -"Very well--very well," said Lowndes briskly. "I merely desire to -apologise for my--my hastiness when we met on Saturday. I fear--that -is, my daughter tells me--but indeed I am conscious myself--that I -quite misunderstood your meaning, Ringrose, on a point in itself too -trifling to be worth naming. You may remember, however, that you asked -me if I knew anything about a person of whose very existence I had just -exposed my ignorance?" - -"I remember," said Harry. "A mere slip of the tongue, due to my -curiosity about the man." - -"And is your curiosity satisfied?" inquired Lowndes, becoming suddenly -preoccupied in wiping the dust from his eye-glasses. - -"Well, I haven't seen him yet, though he is in the house." - -"Ah!" said Lowndes, as though he had not listened. "Well, Ringrose, all -I wanted was to tell you frankly that I didn't mean to be rude to you -on Saturday afternoon; so I took the train on here before going to the -City; and now I've just time to catch one back--so good-bye." - -"It was hardly worth while taking so much trouble," said Harry dryly; -for he knew there was some other meaning in the move, though as yet he -could not divine what. - -"Hardly worth while?" said Lowndes. "My dear boy, that's not very kind. -I have always been fond of you, Ringrose, and for your own sake as well -as on every other ground I should be exceedingly sorry to offend you. -Things are looking up with the Company, you know, and I can't afford to -quarrel with our future Secretary!" - -And with that cunning unction he walked away laughing, but Harry knew -there was no laughter in his heart, and that every word he had spoken -was insincere. What then was the meaning? To keep friendly with him, -doubtless; but why? And such were the possibilities of Gordon Lowndes, -and such the imagination of Harry Ringrose, that the latter took his -little boys back to the school with the very wildest and most -far-fetched explanations surging through his brain. - -In the hall he heard a strident voice raging in the schoolroom -overhead. He could not help going a little way upstairs to discover -whether anything serious was the matter. And outside the schoolroom -door stood one of the biggest boys, crying bitterly, with his collar -torn from its stud, and one ear and one cheek as crimson as though that -side of his face had been roasted before a fire. - -At one o'clock the whole school went for a walk before dinner, and it -was then that Harry at last set eyes on the formidable Scrafton, as he -came downstairs in his creaking shoes, with his snuff-box open in his -hand, and his extraordinary head thrown back to take a pinch. There are -some faces which one has to see many times before one knows them, as it -were, by heart; there are others which one passes in the street with a -shudder, and can never afterwards forget; and here was a face that -would have haunted Harry Ringrose even though he had never seen it but -this once. - -A magnificent forehead was its one fine feature; the light blue eyes -beneath were spoilt by their fiery rims, and yet they gleamed with a -fierce humour and a keen intelligence which lent them distinction of a -kind. These were the sole redeeming points. The rest was either cruel -or unclean or both. The creature's skin was very smooth and yellow, and -it shone with an unwholesome gloss. Abundant hair, of a dirty -iron-grey, was combed back from the forehead without a parting, and -gathered in unspeakable curls on the nape of a happily invisible neck. -A long, lean nose, like a vulture's beak, overhung a grey moustache -with a snuffy zone in the centre, and lost pinches of snuff lingered in -a flowing beard of great length. The man wore a suit of pristine black, -now brown with age and snuff, and Harry noticed a sallow gleam between -his shoes and his trousers as he came creaking down the stairs. In warm -weather he wore no socks. - -"This is the new master of whom I spoke to you," said Mrs. Bickersteth, -who was waiting in the hall to introduce Harry to Mr. Scrafton. - -"That a master?" bellowed Scrafton. "Why, I thought it was a new boy!" -And he let out a roar of laughter that left his blue eyes full of -water; then he strode across the hall with a horrible hand -out-stretched; the long nails had jagged, black rims, and in another -moment Harry was shuddering from a clasp that was at once clammy and -strong. - -"What's your name?" asked Mr. Scrafton, grinning like a demon in -Harry's face. - -"Mr. Ringrose," said Mrs. Bickersteth. - -"What name?" roared Scrafton. He had turned from Harry to the -schoolmistress. Harry saw her quail, and he took the liberty of -repeating his surname in a very distinct voice. - -"Where do you come from?" demanded Scrafton, turning back to Harry, or -rather upon him, with his red-rimmed eyes glaring out of an absolutely -bloodless face. - -Harry answered the question with his head held high. - -"Son of Henry Ringrose, the ironmaster?" - -"I am." - -"I thought so! A word with you, ma'am," cried Scrafton--and himself led -the way into Mrs. Bickersteth's study. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -ASSAULT AND BATTERY. - - -Harry was left alone in the hall. The boys were in the basement, -putting on their boots. There were high words in the study, and yet -Scrafton seemed to be speaking much below his normal pitch. Harry -sauntered into the deserted schoolroom to avoid eavesdropping. And as -if in spite of him, the voices rose, and this much reached his ears: - -"I tell you it will ruin the school!" - -"Then let me tell you, Mr. Scrafton, that the school is mine, and I -have done it with my eyes open." - -"The son of a common swindler! I know it to my cost----" - -To his cost! How could he know it to his cost, this suburban -schoolmaster? Harry had shut the door; he stood against it in a torment -of rage and shame, his fingers on the handle, only listening, only -waiting, for that other door to open. So in the end the two doors -opened as one, and the two masters met in the hall and glared in each -other's faces without a word. - -"Mr. Ringrose!" cried Mrs. Bickersteth hastily. - -Harry turned from the baleful yellow face in a paroxysm of contempt and -loathing, and was next moment closeted with a trembling old woman whose -pitiable agitation was another tribute to the terrible Scrafton. - -Mrs. Bickersteth's observations were both brief and broken. She had -just heard from Mr. Scrafton what indeed was not exactly new to her. -The name was uncommon. Her sons had recalled the case on the arrival of -Harry's application for the junior mastership. They had not painted the -case quite so black as Mr. Scrafton had done, and they had all agreed -that the--the sin of the father--should not disqualify the son. She had -not meant to let Mr. Ringrose know that she knew (Harry thanked her in -a heartfelt voice), but she had hoped that nobody else would know: and -Mr. Scrafton knew for one. - -"Do you want to get rid of me?" asked Harry bluntly. - -The lady winced. - -"Not unless you want to go. No--no--I have neither the inclination nor -the right to take such a course. But if, after this, you would rather -not stay, I--I would not stand in your way, Mr. Ringrose." - -Harry saw how it was with Mrs. Bickersteth. She did not want to be -unjust, she did not want to give in to Scrafton, but oh! if Mr. -Ringrose would save the situation by going of his own accord! - -"Will you give me the afternoon to think it over?" said he. - -"Certainly," said Mrs. Bickersteth. "I wish you to consult your own -feelings only. I wish to be just, Mr. Ringrose, and--and to meet your -ideas. If you are going to town, any time before ten o'clock will be -time enough for your return." - -Harry expressed his gratitude, and said that in that case it would be -unnecessary for him to absent himself before the close of afternoon -school; nor did he do so; for he was not going to town at all. - -He was going straight to Richmond Hill, to put the whole matter before -Gordon Lowndes, and to beg the explanation he felt certain the other -could give. Why should Scrafton have lost his colour and his temper at -the bare mention of the name of Ringrose? Was it true that he knew that -name already "to his cost"? Then how did he know it to his cost, and -since when, and what was the subtle connection between Mr. Ringrose and -this same Scrafton? Was Lowndes aware of any? - -Yes, there was something that Lowndes knew, something that he had known -on the Saturday afternoon, something to account for his surprise on -learning to what school Harry had gone as master. He had indignantly -denied all knowledge of Scrafton, but Harry could no longer accept that -gratuitous and inexplicable repudiation. It was the very fact that he -did know something about Scrafton, something which he wished to keep to -himself, that had made him angrily disclaim such knowledge. - -Harry was coming back to his old idea that Lowndes had been more deeply -implicated in his father's flight than anybody supposed. He no longer -suspected foul play--that was impossible in the face of the letter from -Dieppe--but he did suspect complicity on the part of Lowndes. What if -Lowndes had swindled wholesale in the ironmaster's name, and what if -Scrafton were one of his victims? - -What if Lowndes could tell him where his father lay in hiding abroad! - -The thought brought a happy moment and an hour of bitterness; no, it -were better they should never know; better still if he were dead. And -the bitter hour that followed was the last and the loveliest of a warm -September day; and Harry Ringrose spent it in walking across Ham Common -and through Richmond Park, in the mellow sunset, on his way to Richmond -Hill. - -When he got there it was dusk, and two men were pacing up and down the -little garden in front of Lowndes's house. Harry paused at the gate. -The men had their heads close together, and were conversing so -earnestly that they never saw him. They were Lowndes and Scrafton. - -Harry stepped back without a sound. All his suppositions had been built -upon the hypothesis that these two were enemies; it had never entered -his head that they might be friends. To find them together was the last -thing he had expected, and the discovery chilled him in a way for which -he could not instantly account. He knew there was good reason for it, -but in his first discomfiture he could not find the reason. - -He stole back along the road, a shower of new suspicions sticking like -arrows in his soul. The very vagueness of his sensations added to their -sickening effect. His brain heaved as though with wine, and when he -clapped a hand to his head it came back dripping. He was at the corner -of the road before he knew what he was going to do, and there he spent -minutes hesitating and considering. Unable to make up his mind, he -crossed over and returned to reconnoitre from the other side. To and -fro walked Lowndes and Scrafton, on the gravel path in front of the -lighted window opposite; and faster than their feet, but lower than -their footfalls, went their tongues. - -Harry had not heard a word before. At this distance it was impossible -for him to catch a syllable, and he was glad of it. He would watch his -men and bide his time. It might be his best policy to do nothing, to -say nothing, for the present; but he would keep an eye on the house -while he thought it over. - -The difficulty was for the observer himself to escape observation. The -road was so quiet that if he strolled up and down, those other -saunterers in the garden could not fail to have their attention -attracted to him sooner or later. It was so narrow that they had only -to look up in order to see him leaning against the paling of the -opposite house. This house, however, was unoccupied, and behind the -paling, in the segment of a circle formed by the shortest of suburban -carriage drives, grew a clump of laurels which tempted Harry to do a -very foolish thing. He crept into the garden of the unoccupied house, -and from a point of vantage among the laurels he watched the two men in -the garden over the way. - -Up and down they walked, backward and forward, and their low voices -never ceased; backward and forward, up and down; and now the light of a -lamp made oval flames of Lowndes's glasses, now the taller Scrafton's -cormorant profile was stamped for an instant on the lighted blinds, -while the loathsome sound of his snuff-taking came again and again -across the quiet road. - -So these men were friends: and Lowndes had carefully implied that they -were not even acquainted. Why should he have gone out of his way to do -that? He had flown into a temper when that careful implication was -inadvertently ignored; and had afterwards so feared the tell-tale -effect of this unguarded outbreak that he had gone all the way to -Teddington with elaborate apologies and ingenious explanations. - -Stay: no: he had gone to Teddington with an ulterior motive, which only -this instant dawned upon Harry Ringrose. Now he thought of it, there -had been an obvious absence of premeditation about both the apology and -the explanation; in fact, he had never before heard the fluent Lowndes -hesitate so often for a word. Why? Because he had gone to Teddington -that morning with quite another object, and at last Harry saw what it -was. - -He remembered Mrs. Bickersteth's announcement that this term Mr. -Scrafton was coming half-an-hour earlier than formerly. He remembered -how cleverly Lowndes had contrived to discover that Scrafton was -already in the house. He had never forgotten Scrafton's face on hearing -the new master's name. The thing was plain as daylight, and Harry only -wondered how and why he had not seen it at once. Gordon Lowndes had -gone to Teddington simply and solely to intercept his friend Scrafton, -and to warn him that he was about to meet a son of the missing Henry -Ringrose. - -But why warn him? What had Harry's father been to Scrafton, or Scrafton -to Harry's father? The lad's blood ran hot with suspicion, ran cold -with surmise: there were the two men who could tell him the truth, -there within twenty yards of him: he heard their every footfall in the -gravel, heard one taking snuff, and the other talking, talking, talking -in an endless whisper. Yet he could not walk boldly across the road and -challenge them to tell him the truth! He was not sure that it would be -a wise thing to do, but it galled him to feel that he could not do it. -Lowndes loved a scene as much as he hated one, but Harry felt he could -have stood up to Lowndes alone. Scrafton was a loathly being, but he -would not have daunted Harry by himself. It was the two together, the -coarse bully and the keen-witted man of the world, strong men both, -whom the lad could not bring himself to challenge in cold blood. He -had, indeed, too much sense; but, in an agony of self-upbraiding -consciousness, he kept blaming and hating himself for having too little -pluck. He thought of the motto on his bedroom wall at home. He would -have it down; it was not for him. It was only for those who had some -pluck to lose. - -And as he cowered in the garden of the empty house, a white face among -the leaves, impotent, bewildered, self-tormenting, the front door -opened across the road, and a supple, strong figure stood so straight -in the mouth of the lighted passage, a silhouette crowned with gold by -the lamp within. For an instant Harry's heart seemed to stop, and the -next instant to rush from his keeping to that lighted door. He had -forgotten the existence of Fanny Lowndes. - -"Dinner is ready," she said. Harry heard the words distinctly: there -was no reason to lower that honest voice. But he thought that he -detected an unwonted note of fear--one of disgust he could swear -to--and instantly his mind was going over every conversation he had -ever had with the girl, hunting for that unwonted note which was yet -not entirely unfamiliar. He felt certain that he had heard it before. - -"One moment," replied Lowndes; and his voice sank once more, and so -continued volubly for some minutes: then the pair went in. - -But Harry lingered among his laurels, strongly impelled to go -incontinently with his questions and his suspicions to the one friend -of whose sympathy he felt sure, of whose truth and honour there was no -question. Yet to that one friend he could never go, for was she not -also the only child of Gordon Lowndes? - -And what then was his wisest course? Should he do nothing, for the -present, but return to Teddington, continue in the school, and watch -this Scrafton from day to day? Or should he wait until Scrafton was -gone, and then confront Lowndes with an uncompromising demand for -explanations? Prudence advised one course, gallantry another; but the -question was to receive a sufficiently sensational solution. It so -happened that the burglary season had set in early that autumn in the -Thames valley, and the Richmond police in particular were already -greatly on their mettle. A certain young constable, at once desirous of -his stripes and yet not a little alarmed by his own enterprise, had -obtained leave to go on his beat in noiseless boots, and he came into -Greville Road about the time that Lowndes and Scrafton went indoors. -Not a sound came from his muffled feet, but that only seemed to make -his heart beat the louder; for it was a very human young constable, and -the majority of the recent burglaries had taken place at this very -hour, while the families were at dinner. - -Suddenly the young policeman stood still and all but shaking in his -soundless boots: for a few feet from his nose, where he least expected -it, in the garden of an empty house, was a pale face among the laurels, -with dark eyes upon the house across the road. A palpable burglar -choosing his window. A desperate fellow, judging by his face, and yet -one to be taken single-handed if he were alone. - -Harry did not hear the hand feeling for the truncheon, nor yet the -leather tongue leaping from the brass button; but he smelt the dark -lantern burning about a second before the light was flashed in his -face. - -"Wad-you-doing-there?" - -The low voice was drunken in its excitement. - -Harry recoiled among the laurels, guiltily enough, for he was horribly -startled. - -"Come-out-o'-that!" growled the young constable through his teeth to -prevent their chattering, and with his words still running together. -"Come-out-o'-that; you've-got-to-come-along-with-me!" - -"Why?" cried Harry, frightened into self-possession on the spot. - -"You know why! Think I didn't see you watching that house? Out you -come!" - -The constable also was becoming master of his nerves. Harry, indeed, -neither looked nor spoke like a very desperate person. - -"Look here, officer," said he, "you're making a mistake. Do I look a -burglar?" - -"Come out and I'll tell you." - -"Well, but look here: you're not going to run me in if I do?" - -"I'm not so sure about that." - -"You can't!" cried Harry, losing his temper. "What charge have you to -bring against me?" - -"Trespassing with intent! You may satisfy the sergeant, and if you do -he won't detain you. But I've got to do my dooty, and if you won't come -out I'll make you, but if you take my advice you'll come quietly." - -"Oh, I'll come quietly," said Harry, "if I've got to come." - -His tone was one of unaffected resignation. To be haled before the -police was a new and most grotesque experience, at which he could have -laughed outright but for the dread lest his superior officers might -prove as crass as this callow constable. That he would have to go, -however, appeared inevitable; and though the thought of calling Lowndes -to vouch for his respectability did occur to him, it was instantly -dismissed, and that of resistance never occurred to him at all. Harry -was a very peaceable person, but he was also very excitable and -impulsive, and what he now did was done without a moment's thought. He -had opened the gate, which was wide and heavy, with the kind of latch -which allows a gate to swing past the post on either side, and on the -pavement stood a young police man with his lantern and something -glittering in its light. It was a pair of handcuffs, and the sight of -them was responsible for what followed. Instead of passing through the -gate, as he seemed in the act of doing, Harry clapped both hands to the -bar and rushed at the policeman with the gate in front of him. Every -bar struck a different section of the man's body: his lantern fell with -a clatter, his handcuffs with a tinkle, and he himself was hurled -heavily into the road, along which Harry was scampering like a wild -thing. At the corner he stopped to look back, because no footsteps were -following and no whistle had been blown. The lantern had not gone out, -for a jet of light spouted from the pavement half-way across the road, -where it ran into a dark-blue heap. Otherwise the little road was quite -deserted. - -Some minutes later, when the whistles began to blow, the man they blew -for just heard them from the heights of the hill; but he had had the -presence of mind to walk up to the park gates, and through them at a -pace almost leisurely; and long before ten o'clock he was sitting over -little Woodman's fire in his room at the Hollies, Teddington, and -wondering whether it was he or another who had been through the -adventures of the evening. - -He had decided to remain at the school, and Mrs. Bickersteth had -accepted his decision without comment. The schoolmistress little dreamt -to whom a paragraph referred which caught her eye in the next issue of -the _Surrey Comet_:-- - - RICHMOND BURGLARS. - - ASSAULT ON THE POLICE. - - As Constable John Tinsley, Richmond division, Metropolitan Police, - was on his rounds on Monday evening last, he noticed a man lurking - in the garden of an empty house on the hill, and, on demanding an - explanation, was savagely assaulted and left senseless in the road. - There can be little doubt, from the bruises on Tinsley's body, that - the ruffian felled him with some blunt instrument, and afterwards - kicked him as he lay insensible. Tinsley is now on duty again, but - considers he has had a lucky escape. He describes his assailant as - a thick-set and powerful young fellow of the working class, and has - little doubt that he was one of the brutal and impudent thieves who - are at present a pest of the neighbourhood. - -Harry Ringrose would not have recognised himself had he not been on the -look-out for some such item: when he did, he breathed more freely, -though not freely enough to show himself unnecessarily on Richmond -Hill. The paragraph he cut out and treasured for many years. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -BIDING HIS TIME. - - -When Scrafton's knock thundered through the house on the morning after -Harry's adventure, Mrs. Bickersteth again rose hastily and bustled from -the schoolroom; and for the next five minutes the ears of the junior -master had some cause to tingle. When the schoolmistress returned she -would not look at Harry, who was well aware that she had secretly -wished him to resign, and that conscience alone forbade her to send him -away in obedience to Scrafton's demands. That such demands had been -made the day before, and reiterated this morning, Harry was as certain -as though he had heard them; but the certainty only cemented his -resolve to stay where he was, to give not the smallest pretext for his -dismissal, and to watch Scrafton, patiently, steadily, day after day, -for some explanation of his animus against himself and of his -mysterious relations with Gordon Lowndes. - -It chanced that the middle of that September was as warm as midsummer, -and on the first Wednesday of the term a whisper of cricket went round -the school. It appeared that on Wednesday and Friday afternoons, -throughout the summer, the boys played cricket in Bushey Park, and as -it was still summer weather they were to do so this afternoon. - -"Are you going to take us, sir?" asked Gifford, as they were changing -into flannels, under Harry's supervision, in their dormitory, after -dinner. - -"Not that I know of," said Harry. "Who generally does?" - -"Mr. Scrafton, and he doesn't know the rules----" - -"Read 'em through once, years ago----" - -"And thinks he understands the game----" - -"And scores and umpires----" - -"And gives two men out at once!" - -Here, duty compelled Harry to administer a general snub; but he -determined to go to Bushey Park and see the cricket for himself; and -when the day-boys had assembled in flannels also, and Mr. Scrafton, -flourishing a long blackthorn, had marched them all off in double file, -the junior master had his chance. Little Woodman was left behind. He -was not allowed to play cricket. Harry was requested to take him for a -walk instead; and, on inquiring whether there would be any objection to -their going to Bushey Park to watch the game, received permission to do -so on the understanding that Woodman was not to sit on the grass or to -stand about too long. - -The wickets had just been pitched when they arrived, and Scrafton and -the biggest boy, kneeling behind either middle stump, were taking -sights for a common block-hole which Scrafton proceeded to dig at great -depth at either end. When the game began no player was allowed to take -an independent guard; but meanwhile Scrafton had caught sight of Harry -and his charge, and had borne down upon them with his blue eyes -flashing suspicion and animosity. - -"What have you come for?" he thundered in Harry's face. - -"To--watch you," replied Harry, watching him very calmly as he spoke. - -"Who gave you leave?" - -"Mrs. Bickersteth. Do you dislike being watched?" - -So mild was the look, so bland the tone, that it was impossible to tell -whether the ambiguity was intentional or accidental. Scrafton glared at -Harry for one eloquent moment; then his blue eyes fell and fastened -furiously upon the little fellow at Harry's side. - -"And you," he roared, flourishing his blackthorn over the small boy's -head, "what right have you here? A blockhead who can't say his first -declension has no right idling out o' doors. Take care, Master -Woodman--take very great care to-morrow!" - -And with the grin of an ogre behind the lifted blackthorn, Mr. Scrafton -turned on the heels of the shoes he wore next his skin, and rushed back -to the pitch. - -"I expect Mr. Scrafton's bark is worse than his bite," Harry could not -help saying to the trembling child at his side. "The brute!" he cried -in the same breath. He could not help that either. The blackthorn had -fallen heavily across the shoulders of a boy who had been throwing -catches without leave. Little Woodman never said a word. - -After this Harry could not trust himself to remain without interfering, -and he knew only too well what the result of such interference would -be. So Woodman and he walked to the far side of the ground, and only -watched the game for a few minutes, from a safe distance; yet it left -as vivid an impression in Harry's mind as the finest cricket he had -ever seen at Lord's. There stood Scrafton in his rusty suit, the -murderous blackthorn tucked under an arm, his pocket-book and snuff-box -in one hand, the pencil with which he scored in the other. Never was -game played in more sombre earnest, for neither side had the temerity -to applaud, and the umpire and scorer was also judge and flagellator of -the fielders, who pursued the ball slowly at the risk of being -themselves pursued with the blackthorn. Just before Harry went he saw -his friend Gifford given out because the ball had rolled against the -stumps without removing the bails. The boy had been making runs, and he -seemed dissatisfied. Scrafton took a pinch of snuff, put his pencil in -his pocket, and advanced flourishing his blackthorn in a manner that -made Harry turn his back on the game for good. But that night, when the -boarders undressed, there was a long, lean bruise across Gifford's -shoulders. - -The blackthorn remained in the umbrella-stand while Scrafton roared and -blustered in the upper schoolroom. But when it was he who took the boys -for their walk, the blackthorn went too--and was busy. And on the -chimney-piece upstairs there used to lie a long black ruler which was -said to hurt even more, which Harry yearned to pitch into the middle of -the Thames. - -During the first half of the term he never saw the inside of that room -under Scrafton's terrific rule; but his roaring voice could be heard -all over the house; and now and then, when Harry had occasion to pass -the door, he would pause to listen to the words. - -"Look at the sweat on my hand," was what he once heard. "Look at the -sweat on my hand! It's sweating to give Master Murray what he -deserves!" - -With that Scrafton could be heard taking a tremendous pinch of snuff; -but Harry was still on the stairs when a couple of resounding smacks, -followed by a storm of sobs, announced that Master Murray (aetat. 11) -had received his alleged deserts. The boy's ears were red and swollen -for the rest of that day. - -At first Harry could not understand how a religious woman like Mrs. -Bickersteth could countenance and keep such a flagrant bully, since -what he heard at odd times must be heard morning after morning by some -member of the household. The explanation dawned upon him by degrees. -Scrafton had been there so many years that he had gained an almost -complete ascendency over every adult in the establishment. The one -instance in which Harry knew Mrs. Bickersteth to stand firm was that of -his own continuance in the school. The one member of the Bickersteth -family whom he ever heard breathe a syllable against Scrafton was the -good-hearted, golden-haired Baby. Harry once met her face to face on -the stairs when a roaring and a thumping and a sobbing were going on -behind that terrible closed door. Harry looked at her grimly. Miss -Bickersteth reddened to the roots of her yellow hair. - -"It does sound dreadful," she admitted. "But--but Mr. Scrafton's kinder -than you think; he sounds worse than he is. And he teaches them so -well; and--and he has been here so many years!" - -Harry thought there was a catch in her voice as she brushed past him; -for one thump had sounded louder than the rest; and first a slate had -fallen, and then a boy. Indeed it was a common thing to hear the boys -whispering that so-and-so had been knocked down that day. But the fiend -was clever enough to keep his fist for their bodies, his flat hand for -their faces; the wretched little victims were never actually -disfigured. - -That he was a clever teacher Harry did not doubt. With quick receptive -material he was probably something more, and there were one or two boys -whom that baleful face, that ready hand, and that roaring voice did not -instantly daze and stupefy, and who were consequently getting on -remarkably well under Mr. Scrafton. With his repulsive personality, and -his more repulsive practices, the man had yet a touch of genius. He -wrote the boys' names in their Latin Grammars in the most perfect and -beautiful copperplate hand that Harry had ever seen. And those quicker -boys would show him sums worked out by no recognised rule, but with -half the figures expended in the "key": for Scrafton had a shorter and -better rule of his own for every rule in arithmetic. - -Weeks went by before Harry and this man exchanged another word; but -daily they met and looked each other in the face, and daily the younger -man became surer and surer that the look those blue eyes shot at him -was instinct with a special venom, a peculiar malice, only to be -explained by the unravelment of that mystery which he was as far as -ever from unravelling. And every night of all these weeks he lay awake -wondering, wondering; yet every day the daily duties claimed and -absorbed his whole attention; and he took no step because he had found -no clue, and was still determined to find one; also because there were -certain cogent reasons for his keeping this mastership, for its own -sake, for one term at least. Mrs. Ringrose was still at the seaside -with the Walthews. She wrote to tell Harry how kind they were to her; -when they returned she was to remain with them until he rejoined her. -Meanwhile the flat was costing nothing but its rent, and Harry was not -only earning his board, lodgings, and ten pounds for the term, but from -ten to fifteen shillings a week from the excellent and munificent -_Tiddler_. If he chose to throw up the mastership at Christmas, they -would be able to start the New Year on a much sounder financial basis -than would have been possible had he never obtained it. - -So October wore into November, and the autumn tints became warmer and -richer in Bushey Park, and Harry grew fond of his walks with the boys, -and very fond of the boys themselves. Somehow his discovery on Richmond -Hill came to seem less significant than it had appeared at the time. -The idea grew upon Harry Ringrose (who was fully alive to the defects -of his own imaginative quality) that very likely there was a much -simpler explanation of Lowndes's lie than he had suspected at the time: -and though he loathed Scrafton for his brutality to the boys, and never -failed to meet that baleful eye as though he saw through its bloodshot -blue into the brain beyond, the look became a mechanical part of his -day's routine, and it was only in the long nights that the old -suspicions haunted him. So it was when the clash came between Harry -Ringrose and "I, Jeremiah Scrafton" (as the harpy loved to call himself -to the boys); and with the clash, not suspicion any more, but the dire -conviction of some rank and nameless, yet undiscovered, villainy. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - -HAND TO HAND. - - -It all came of the junior master's clandestine connection with the -_Tiddler_. - -Harry Ringrose used many precautions in the matter of his little -journalistic skeleton. He imagined it safe enough in the locked drawer -in which he treasured such copies of the lively periodical as contained -his stealthy contributions. But, just as the most cautious criminal is -often guilty of the greatest carelessness, so Harry committed one gross -blunder every week; and, again like so many malefactors, his own vanity -was the cause of his undoing. He must see himself in print each week at -the earliest possible opportunity. - -The boys began by wondering why they always passed Teddington Station -on the Saturday walk, and why they were invariably left outside for at -least a minute. Then they wondered what paper it was the master bought. -He never let them see it. Yet he habitually took a good look at it -before rejoining them, which he nearly always did in the best of -tempers, though once or twice it was just the opposite. At last one -sophisticated boy bet another that it was a sporting paper, and the -other boy stole into the station at Harry's heels and with great -gallantry discovered what it was. The same Saturday Harry was observed -scribbling things (probably puns) on his shirt cuff, and referring to -these that evening when he said he had to write a letter, and writing -the letter in irregular short lines. It is to be feared that a few of -the boys then turned unscrupulous detectives, and the discovery of an -envelope addressed to the editor of _Tommy Tiddler_ proved a mere -question of time. - -The next thing was to find out what he wrote, and about this time Harry -had a shock. A day-boy was convicted of bringing a _Tiddler_ to lessons -at the instigation of a boarder, and the whole school heard of it after -Bible-reading, when the incriminating pennyworth was taken between the -tongs and publicly cremated for a "low, pernicious, disreputable paper, -which I hope never to see in my school again." Harry was not present at -the time, but these were Mrs. Bickersteth's words when she told him -what she had done, and begged him to be good enough to keep a sharp -look-out for future numbers of the "degrading thing." He had the new -one in his pocket as he bowed. - -About this time young Woodman was laid up in the bedroom at the top of -the house, and Harry had to keep the fire in and the kettle steaming -all night. The little fellow had grown upon him more and more, and yet -for a child he was extraordinarily reserved. Harry could never tell -whether Scrafton knocked him about or not; and once when Woodman -attributed a set of bruised knuckles to his having struck another boy -(a thing he was never known to do), Harry could have laughed at the -pious lie if he had not been too angry at the thought of anybody -ill-treating such a shadow of a boy. Yet nobody was especially good to -little Woodman: for Baby Bickersteth was good to all. - -Once or twice the boy's parents came to see him, young, wealthy people, -against whom Harry formed a possibly unwarrantable prejudice; and on -these occasions, before being sent downstairs to see them, the child -was first taken upstairs and his light hair made lank and rank with -pomatum, and his pale face burnished with much soap. While he was ill, -however, the Woodmans ran down from their hotel in town one Sunday -morning and spent an hour in the sick-room before hurrying back. Harry -was present when Mrs. Bickersteth came in from chapel and heard of it. -He followed the irate lady upstairs (to put away his Sunday hat), and -he heard her tell the invalid what she thought of his father for coming -up into her bedrooms in her absence. Gentlemen in her bedrooms she did -not allow; it was a most ungentlemanly liberty to take; and so on and -so on, until Harry saw such tears in the boy's eyes as Scrafton himself -could not have wrung. A new book was lying on the bed when Harry -quitted this painful scene. He saw it next under Mrs. Bickersteth's -arm; and he had to go upstairs again to say a word to the boy, though -it should cost him his beggarly place fifty times over. - -"I don't mind what they say to me," whimpered Woodman. "I only mind -what they say about my people." - -Harry found it possible to take the other side without unkindness. Mrs. -Bickersteth had said more than she meant. Most people did when they -were angry. Ladies were always sensitive about untidiness, and, of -course, the room was untidy. She had not meant to hurt Woodman's -feelings. - -"But my mater brought me a new Ballantyne, sir," said the boy. "It was -the one that's just come out, and Bick--Mrs. Bickersteth--has taken it -away from me." - -His tears ran again. - -"Well, I'll lend you something instead," said Harry. - -"Thanks awfully, sir." - -"I'll lend you anything you like!" quoth Harry recklessly. - -He was thinking of some novels in the locked drawer. - -"Honest Injun, sir?" - -Harry laughed. The boy had a quaint way with him that never went too -far, he was the one fellow with whom it was quite safe to joke, and it -was delightful to see his dark eyes drying beneath the bright look that -only left them when Woodman was really miserable. - -"Honest Injun, Woodman." - -"Then lend me a _Tiddler_." - -"A what?" - -"A _Tommy Tiddler_, sir," said Woodman demurely. - -"How on earth do you know I have one?" cried Harry aghast. - -"Everybody knows you get it every Saturday from the station, sir." - -"But how?" - -"Oh, I don't know," said Woodman. "But--but I do wish you'd show me -what you write in it, sir. I swear I won't tell the other fellows!" - -Harry was temporarily dumb. Then he burst out in an excited whisper: -how in the wide world did they know he wrote for the thing? Woodman -would not say. A lot of them did know it, but they had agreed not to -sneak--for which observation he apologised in the same breath. Woodman -whispered too; never were two such conspirators. - -And the immediate result was altogether inevitable. Harry loved a word -of praise from anybody, like many a better man, and Woodman was as much -above the average boy in sense of humour as he was below him in the -ordinary endowments. That Sunday, before he went to sleep, he had read -every false rhyme and every unblushing inversion of Harry's which had -yet found their way into print. It may have been very demoralising--it -has never been held that Harry had even the makings of an ideal -pedagogue--but the small boy actually went to sleep with a _T.T._ under -his pillow. And next day when he was permitted abroad in his room, and, -after the doctor's visit, to go down to Mr. Scrafton for an hour, it -was with _T.T._ stowed hastily in his jacket pocket that Woodman made -his reappearance in the upper schoolroom. - -Unaware that he had been allowed to leave his bed, Harry contrived to -run upstairs during the morning with a boy's magazine which one of the -other boarders had received from home that morning. Finding the room -empty, Harry only hoped his convalescent was breaking the journey from -bed to Scrafton in some more temperate zone, but on his way downstairs -he could not help pausing at that sinister shut door, and this was what -he heard. - -"Where did you get it?" No answer--thud. "Where--did--you--get it?" No -answer--thud--and so on some four or five times, with a dull thud after -each fruitless reiteration. - -Cold breath seemed to gather on Harry's forehead as on glass; an -instinct told him what was happening. - -"I am going on, you know," continued Scrafton, dropping his normal -bluster for a snarl of subtler malice, "until--you--tell--me--where-- -you--got----" - -A blow was falling between each word, and what Harry saw as he entered -was Scrafton leaning across a corner of the table, with his ogre's face -glaring into little Woodman's, and the unlucky _Tiddler_ grasped in his -left hand, while with his right fist he kept punching, punching, -punching, with unvarying aim and precision, between the shoulder and -the chest of the child. No single blow would have drawn a tear, nor -might the series have left a mark, but the little white face was -positively deathly with the cumulative pain, and, though his lips might -have been sewn together, a tear dropped on Woodman's slate as Harry -entered softly. Next instant Scrafton was seated on the floor, and -Harry Ringrose standing over him, brandishing the chair that he had -tugged from under the bully's body. - -"You infernal villain!" cried the younger man. "I've a good mind to -brain you where you sit!" - -It was more easily said than done. Scrafton seized a leg of the chair -in either hand, and, leaping up, began jabbing Harry with the back, -while his yellow face worked hideously, and his blue eyes flamed with -blood. Not a word was said as the two men stood swaying with the chair -between them; and Mrs. Bickersteth, who had heard the fall and Harry's -voice, was in time for this tableau, with its ring of small scared -faces raised in horror. - -"Mr. Scrafton!" she cried. "Mr. Ringrose! pray what are _you_ doing -here?" - -"What am I doing?" shouted Harry. "Teaching this brute you keep to -torture these children--teaching him what I ought to have taught him -weeks ago. Oh, I had some idea of what went on, but none that it was so -bad! I have seen these boys' bruises caused by this bully. I ought to -have told you long ago. I tell you now, and I dare you to keep him in -your school. If you do I call in the police!" - -Poor Harry was quite beside himself. He had lost his head and his -temper too completely to do justice to his case. His chest was heaving, -his face flaming, and even now he looked at Scrafton as though about to -tear that foul beard out by the roots. Scrafton grinned like a fiend, -and took three tremendous pinches of snuff. - -"Mr. Scrafton has been with me twenty-two years," said Mrs. -Bickersteth. "I shall hear him first. Then I will deal with you once -and for all. Meanwhile I shall be excessively obliged if you will -retire to your room." - -"I shall do nothing of the kind," retorted Harry Ringrose. - -"Then you are no longer a master in my school." - -"Thank God for that!" - -Mrs. Bickersteth turned her back upon him, and through all his -righteous heat the youth felt suddenly ashamed. In an instant he was -cool. - -Scrafton was telling his story. Mrs. Bickersteth had forbidden the low -paper, _Tommy Tiddler_, to be brought into the school, and Master -Woodman not only had a copy in his pocket, but stubbornly refused to -say how he had come by it. A little persuasion was being used, when Mr. -Ringrose rushed in, said Scrafton, and committed a murderous assault -upon him with that chair. - -"A little persuasion!" jeered Harry, breaking out again. "A little -torture, you brute! Now I will tell you where he came by that paper. I -lent it him." - -"You--a paid master in my school--lend one of my boys that vulgar, -vicious, abominable paper, after I have forbidden it in the school?" - -"Yes--I did wrong. I beg your pardon, Mrs. Bickersteth, for that and -for the way I spoke just now--to you--not to him," Harry took care to -add, with a contemptuous jerk of the head towards Scrafton. "As for -this unlucky rag," picking it up, "it may or may not be vulgar, but I -deny that it is either vicious or abominable. I shouldn't write for it -if it were." - -"You _write_ for it?" - -"Have done ever since I was here." - -"Then," cried Mrs. Bickersteth, "even if you had not behaved as you -have behaved this morning--even if you had not spoken as you have -spoken--in my presence--in the presence of the boys--you should leave -my school this day. You are not fit for your position." - -"And never was," roared Scrafton, taking another huge pinch and -snapping the snuff from his fingers; "and perhaps, ma'am, you'll listen -to. Jeremiah Scrafton another time. What did I tell you the first time -I saw him. A common swindler's whelp--like father, like son." - -So Scrafton took his chance, but now it was Harry's. He walked up to -the other and stared him steadily in the face. It was the look Harry -had given him five days out of the seven for many a week, but never had -it been quite so steady or so cool. - -"I won't strike you, Scrafton," said he; "no, thank you! But we're not -done with each other yet. You've not heard the last of me--or of my -father." - -"There's plenty wish they hadn't heard the last of him," rejoined -Scrafton brutally. - -"Well, you haven't, any way; and when you hear of him again, you -ruffian," continued Harry, under his breath, "it will be to some -purpose. I know something--I mean to know all. And it surprises you! -What do you suppose I stayed here for except to watch you? And I'll -have you watched still, Scrafton. Trust me not to lose sight of you -till I am at the bottom of your villainy." - -Not a word of this was heard by Mrs. Bickersteth or by the boys; they -merely saw Scrafton's face set in a grin that had suddenly become -ghastly, and the snuff spilling from the box between his blue-nailed -fingers, as Harry Ringrose turned upon his heel and strode from the -room. - -He took the stairs three at a time, in his eagerness to throw his -things into his portmanteau and to go straight from the guilty man -downstairs to the guilty man in Leadenhall Street or on Richmond Hill; -he would find him wherever he was; he would tear the truth from that -false friend's tongue. And this new and consuming excitement so lifted -him outside of his present surroundings, that it was as though the -school was not, as though the last two months had not been; and it was -only when he rose perspiring from his strapped portmanteau that the -glint of medicine bottles caught his eye, bringing the still lingering -odours of the sick-room back to his nostrils, and to his heart a tumult -of forgotten considerations. - -Instead of hurrying downstairs he strode up and down his room until a -note was brought to him from Mrs. Bickersteth. It begged him as a -gentleman to go quietly and at once, and it enclosed a cheque for ten -pounds, or his full salary for the unfinished term. Harry felt touched -and troubled. The lady wrote a good bold hand, but her cheque was so -tremulously signed that he wondered whether they would cash it at the -bank. He had qualms, too, about accepting the full amount; but the -thought of his mother overcame them, and that of the boys fortified him -to send down a stamped receipt with a line in which he declined to go -before Mrs. Bickersteth's sons returned from the City. - -He remained upstairs all day, however, in order to cause no additional -embarrassment before the boys, and, when his ears told him that -afternoon school had begun, he was still further touched at the arrival -of his dinner on a tray. On the strength of this he begged for an -interview with Mrs. Bickersteth, and, when Baby Bickersteth came up to -say her mother was quite unequal to seeing him, Harry apologised freely -and from his heart for the violence to which he had given way in his -indignation. But he said that he must see her brothers before he went, -as nothing could alter his opinion of the ferocious Scrafton, or of the -monstrosity of retaining such a man in such a position. - -"And you," he cried, looking boldly into the doll-like eyes, "you agree -with me! Then back me up this evening, and you will never, never, never -regret it!" - -The girl coloured as she left him without a word; but he thought the -blue eyes were going to fill, and he hoped for the best in the evening. -Alas! he was leaning on reeds, and putting his faith in a couple of -sober, unimaginative citizens, who, seeing Harry excited, deducted some -seventy per cent. from his indictment, and met his every charge with -the same stolid answer. - -"We were under him ourselves," they said, "and you see, we are none the -worse." - -"But you were Mrs. Bickersteth's sons. And I don't say these boys will -be any the worse when they grow up. I only say it is a crime to let -such little chaps be so foully used." - -"You have said quite enough," replied Leonard, gruffly. "It's not the -slightest use your saying any more." - -"So I see!" cried Harry bitterly. - -"You've upset my mother," put in Reggie, "but you don't bully us." - -"No!" exclaimed Harry. "I'll leave that to Scrafton--since even the men -of the house daren't stand up to him!" - -This brought them to their feet. - -"Will you have the goodness to go?" thundered Lennie. - -"Or have we to make you?" drawled Reginald. - -"You may try," said Harry, truculently. "I'm on to have it out with -anybody, though I'd rather it were a brute like Scrafton than otherwise -good fellows who refuse to see what a brute he is. But you will have to -see. You haven't heard the last of this; you'll be sorry you didn't -hear the last of it from me." - -"You threaten us?" cried Lennie Bickersteth, throwing the drawing-room -door open in a way that was in itself a threat. Harry stalked through -with an eye that dared them to use their hands. He put on his hat and -overcoat, flung open the front door, picked up his portmanteau and his -hat-box, and so wheeled round on the threshold. - -"I mean," he said, "to communicate with the parents of every boy who -has been under Scrafton this term. They shall question the boys -themselves." - -He turned again, and went slowly down the steps; before he was at the -bottom the big door had slammed behind him for ever. And yet again did -he turn at the wooden gate between the stucco pillars. There was his -window, the end window of the top row, the window with the warm red -light behind the blind. Even as he watched, the blind was pulled back, -and a little lean figure in white stood between it and the glass. - -It was a moonlight night, made lighter yet by a fall of snow that -afternoon, and Harry saw the little fellow so distinctly for the last -time! He was alternately waving a handkerchief with all his might and -digging at his eyes with it as though he meant to blacken them. It was -Harry's first sight of Woodman since the scene in the schoolroom, and -it was destined to be his last in life. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -MAN TO MAN. - - -The flat was in utter darkness when Harry arrived between nine and ten. -He was disappointed, and yet not surprised. He knew that his mother was -to have returned from the sea by this time, but that was all he did -know. He found the porter, and asked him how he was redirecting the -letters. - -The man gave Mr. Walthew's address. Harry groaned. - -"Mrs. Ringrose has never been back since she first went away?" - -"No, sir." - -"You have the key of the flat?" - -"Yes, sir; my wife goes up there every day." - -"Then get her to go up now and light the gas stove and lay the table. -I'll bring in the provisions if she'll do that and make my bed for me. -Tell her I know it's late, but----" - -"That's all right, sir," interrupted the porter, a familiar but -obliging soul; and when Harry returned in ten minutes, with his slices -of pressed beef and his French rolls and butter, from the delightful -shop round a couple of corners, the flat was lighted like a -public-house, and you lost sight of your breath in the minute -dining-room where the asbestos was reddening in the grate. - -Yet it was a sorry home-coming, that put Harry painfully in mind of his -last, and he felt very wistful and lonely when he had finished his -supper and written a few lines to his mother. He came in from posting -them with an ounce of birdseye, and dragged an easy chair from under -its dust-sheet in the other room, and so arranged himself comfortably -enough in front of the gas stove. But his first pipe for several weeks -did no more for him than Weber's Last Waltz, which duly welcomed him -through the ceiling. He was unused to solitude, and the morrow's -interview with Lowndes sat heavily on his nerves. His one consolation -was that it would take place before his mother's return. She must know -nothing until he knew all. And he had begged her not to hurry back on -his account. - -In the sideboard that was so many sizes too large for the room--the -schoolroom sideboard of the old home--he at last laid hands upon some -whisky, and in his loneliness and suppressed excitement he certainly -drank more than was good for him before going to bed. Immense and -immediate confidence accrued, only to evaporate before it was wanted; -and morning found him nervous, depressed, and dearly wishing that he -had gone hot from Scrafton to Lowndes the day before. But the bravest -man is he who goes trembling and yet smiling into action, and, after -all, it was a sufficiently determined face that Harry Ringrose carried -through the sloppy City streets that foggy forenoon. - -In the outer office the same small clerk was perched on the same tall -stool: but Bacchus sat solitary, in his top-coat and with a redder nose -than ever, at the desk in the inner office, the door of which was -standing open. - -"Good-morning, Mr. Backhouse," said Harry entering. "Mr. Lowndes is -out?" - -"Very much out." - -"Doesn't he come here now?" - -"No." - -"I'm sorry to trouble you, Mr. Backhouse, but can you tell me where I -can find him?" - -"Offices of the Crofter Fisheries." - -"Where are they?" - -"Hartington House, Cornhill." - -So brusque was his manner, so different from Harry's recollection of -the red-nosed man, that the young fellow thanked him for his -information with marked stiffness, whereupon the other sprang up and -clapped on his hat. - -"I don't mean to be rude to you, Mr. Ringrose, but I'm sick of that -man's name," cried he: "it gives me a thirst every time I hear it. -Didn't you know about the Company? It comes out next week--they're -going to have a solid page in every morning paper on Monday--capital -one million, and everything but Royalty on the board! Lowndes has made -himself General Manager with God knows how many thousand a year, and I -was to be Secretary with five hundred. He promised it to me again and -again--he had the use of these offices rent free for months--and used -to borrow from the housekeeper when I had nothing--and now he gives it -over my head to one of his aristocratic pals. I tell you, Mr. Ringrose, -it makes me dry to think of it! Come and let me buy you a drink." - -Harry thanked him but declined, and, on the way downstairs, asked -whether Lowndes still lived at Richmond. - -"He may be there still," said Bacchus, "but I hear he's going to move -into an abbey or castle--I forget which--as soon as the Company comes -out. He's renting it furnished from one of these belted blokes he's got -in with. So you won't have the least little split? Well, good-bye then, -Mr. Ringrose, and may Gordon Lowndes prove a better friend to you than -he has to me!" - -Harry could not help smiling grimly as he headed for Cornhill. The -grievance of Bacchus was as much his own. Most heartily he wished he -had no worse. - -Hartington House proved to be a modern pile with a lift worked by a -smart boy in buttons; and the offices of the Crofter Fisheries, -Limited, occupied the whole of one floor. If Harry had felt nervous -when climbing the familiar stairs in Leadenhall Street, he might well -have been overpowered by the palatial character of the new premises. A -commissionaire with as many medals as a Field-Marshal handed his card -to one gentleman, who passed it on to another gentleman, who carried it -through a ground-glass door. Harry was then conducted into a luxurious -waiting-room in which two or three busy-looking men were glancing -alternately at their watches and at the illustrated papers which -strewed the table. A single gigantic salmon occupied a glass case -running the length of the mantelpiece, while several new oil paintings -hung upon the walls. Harry noticed that the subjects were exclusively -Scottish, and that one at least was by a distinguished Academician, of -whose name the most was made in black letters on a gilt tablet. - -In such surroundings the visitor found it a little difficult to -rehearse what he had determined to say to Lowndes, and it was no -misfortune that kept him waiting the better part of an hour. The delay -gave him time to gather his wits and to recollect his points. It -prepared him for a new Gordon Lowndes. It steadied his feet when they -sank into the rich carpet of a still more sumptuous apartment, in the -middle of which stood the most magnificent desk he had ever seen; it -kept his eye from being distracted from the resplendent gentleman who -sat at the desk, the gentleman with the orchid in the silken lapel of -his frock-coat, and with everything new upon him but the gold -eye-glasses that bridged the twitching nose. - -Before his mouth opened beneath his waxed moustache, Harry felt -convinced that Lowndes had seen Scrafton, and was fully prepared for -this visit. - -"Well, Ringrose, what can I do for you?" he cried, as Harry advanced, -and his tone was both cold and sharp. - -"Ask your typist to step into another room," replied Harry, glancing -towards the young girl at the clicking Remington. - -Lowndes opened his eyes. Indeed, Harry had begun better than he himself -expected, and his confidence increased as the other turned to his -typist. - -"Be good enough to leave us for a minute, Miss Neilson; we shan't be -longer," said Lowndes pointedly. "Now," he added, "kindly take a seat, -Ringrose." - -But Harry came and stood at the other side of the magnificent desk. - -"I want to ask you two or three questions, Mr. Lowndes," said he -quietly. - -"About the Company, eh?" - -"No, not about the Company, Mr. Lowndes." - -"Then this is neither the time nor place, and it will have to be a very -short minute. But blaze away." - -"What is there between you and that man Scrafton?" asked Harry, and for -the life of him he could steady his voice no longer. His very lip was -trembling now. - -"Which man Scrafton?" asked Lowndes, beginning to smile. - -"You know as well as I do!" Harry almost shouted. "The other master in -the school at Teddington--the man whose existence you pretended not to -know of when I met you that afternoon on Ham Common. I ask you what -there is between you. I ask you why you pretended there was nothing -that Saturday afternoon--that Monday morning when you came to intercept -him and pretended you had come to see me. I ask you what there was -between that ruffian and--my father!" - -His voice was almost breaking in his passion and his agony, but he was -no longer nervous and self-conscious. That agony of doubt and of -suspicion--that passionate determination to know the truth--had already -floated him beyond the shoals of self. Lowndes waved a soothing hand, -and his tone altered instantly. It was as though he realised that he -was dealing with a dangerous fellow. - -"Steady, Ringrose, steady!" said he. "You must answer me one question -if you want answers to all those." - -And there was a touch of the old kindness in his tone, a strange and -disconcerting touch, for it sounded genuine. - -"As many as you like--_I_ have nothing to hide," cried Harry. And he -had the satisfaction of making Lowndes wince. - -"What makes you think I am acquainted with the man you mention?" - -"What makes me think it?" echoed Harry, with a hard laugh. "Why, I've -seen you together!" - -"When?" cried Lowndes. - -"The very day I saw you last. I came over to tell you something I'd -heard the fellow say. I wanted to consult you of all men! And there -were the two of you walking up and down your garden path." - -"Was it the evening?" - -"Yes, it was, and you walked up and down by the hour--like -conspirators--like confederates!" - -Lowndes had started up and was leaning across his desk. His hands -gripped the edge of it. His face was ghastly. - -"Spy!" he hissed. "You listened to what we were saying." - -"I didn't," retorted Harry. "You knew one gentleman even then." - -There were several sorts of folly in this speech: no sooner was it -uttered than Harry saw one. Had he been less ready to deny the -eavesdropping he might have learnt something now. By pretending to know -much he might have learnt all. He had lost a chance. - -And Gordon Lowndes--that arch-exponent of the game of bluff--was quick -as lightning to appreciate his good fortune. The blood rushed back to -his face, his hands came away from the mahogany (two little tell-tale -dabs they left behind them), and he sank back into his luxurious -chair--with a droop of the eyelids and ever so slight a shake of the -head--an artist deploring the inartistic for art's sake while he -welcomed it for his own. - -Harry was furious at his false move, and at this frank though tacit -recognition of the lost advantage. - -"I wish I had listened!" he cried. "God knows what I should have heard, -but something you dare not tell me, that I can see. There! I have been -fool enough to answer your questions; now it's your turn to answer -mine, and to tell me what there is between you and Scrafton." - -"Well, he's a man I've had a slight acquaintance with for a year or -two. He lodges--or he did lodge--in Richmond. I scraped acquaintance -with him because his face interested me. But it isn't more interesting -than the man himself, who is the one genius I know--the one walking -anachronism----" - -"I know all about that," interrupted Harry. "Why did you pretend you -knew nothing about him? That's what I want to get at. You don't deny -you led me to think you had never heard of him?" - -"No--I did my best to do so." - -"You admit it now! And why did you do your best? What was the meaning -of it? What had you to gain?" - -"Nothing." - -"Then why did you do it?" - -"My good fellow, that's my business." - -"Mine too," said Harry thickly. "This man knows something of my father; -you know something of this man; and first you pretend you don't--and -then you try to prepare him for meeting me. I suppose you admit it was -Scrafton you came to see that morning?" - -"Well, I confess I wanted to put salt on the fellow; and, as he'd left -Richmond, that was my only way." - -"Exactly!" cried Harry. "You wanted to put salt on him because there -was some mystery between the two of you and my father, and you were -frightened he'd let something out. By God, Lowndes, there's some -treachery too, if there isn't crime! Sit still. I'm not going to stop. -Ring your bell if you like, and I'll tell every man in the office--I'll -tell every big-wig on the board. There's treachery somewhere--there may -be crime--and I've suspected it from the beginning. Yes, I suspected -you the first time I set eyes upon you. I suspected you when we talked -about my poor father in his own room and in the train. You looked a -guilty man then--you look a guilty man now. Confess your guilt, or, by -the living Lord, I'll tell every director of this Company! Ah, you may -laugh--that's your dodge when you're in a corner--you've told me so -often enough--but you were white a minute ago!" - -The laugh had stopped and the whiteness returned as Lowndes sprang up -and walked quickly round the desk to where Harry stood. He laid a hand -on Harry's arm. The boy shook it off. And yet there was a kindness -behind the other's glasses--the old kindness that had disconcerted -Harry once already. - -"Consider what you are saying, Ringrose," said Lowndes quietly. "You're -going on like a young madman. Pull yourself together and just consider. -You talk of telling tales in a way that is neither nice nor wise. What -do you know to tell?" - -This simple question was like ice on the hot young head. - -"Enough, at any rate," he stammered presently, "to put me on the track -of more." - -"Then I advise you to find out the more before you make use of -threats." - -"I intend to do so. I'll be at the bottom of your villainy yet!" - -Lowndes darkened. - -"Do you want to force me to have you turned out?" he asked fiercely. -"Upon my word, Ringrose, you try the patience of the best friend you -ever had. Didn't I stand by you when you landed? Didn't I do the best I -could for you when I was on the rocks myself? Now I'm afloat again I -want to stand by you still, but you make it devilish difficult. I -honestly meant to make you Secretary of this Company, but when the chap -who helped me to pull it through asked for the billet, what could I do? -Here's an envelope that will show you I haven't forgotten you; take it, -Ringrose, and look at it at your convenience, and try to think more -charitably of an old friend. Recollect that I was your father's friend -first." - -"So you say," said Harry, taking the long thick envelope and looking -straight through the gold-rimmed glasses. "I will believe you when you -tell me where he is." - -"I know no more than the man in the moon." - -"You were at the bottom of his disappearance!" - -"I give you my word that I was not." - -"You know whether he is dead or alive!" - -"I do not, Ringrose." - -"Then tell me where you saw him last!" - -"You sicken me," cried Lowndes, losing his temper suddenly. "I told you -the whole story six months ago, and now you want me to tell it you -again so that you may challenge every point. I'll answer no more of -your insolent questions, and I'll tell the commissionaire to mark you -down and never to admit you again. You hold in your hand fifty shares -in this Company. Next week they will be worth a hundred pounds--next -month perhaps a thousand--next year very likely five. Take them for -your mother's sake, if not for your own, and for God's sake let me -never see your face again!" - -"From the man who may be at the bottom of our disgrace? No, thank -you--not until you tell me what you did with my father--you and -Scrafton between you!" - -"I have already answered you." - -"Then so much for your fifty shares." - -The long envelope spun into the fire. Lowndes darted to his desk, -caught the electric bell that dangled over it, and pressed the button. -Harry stalked to the door, turned round, and faced him for the last -time. - -"You will not tell me the truth; very well, I will find it out. I will -find it out," cried Harry Ringrose in a breaking voice, "if I have to -spend my whole life in doing so. And if you have wronged my father I -will have no mercy on you; and if you have not--all I ask is--that -you--have no mercy on me!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - -THE END OF THE BEGINNING. - - -Harry drifted through the fog, the sport of misery and rage. He was a -beaten man, and slow as another to own it to himself. Now he swore that -he and he alone would unravel the mystery of his father's fate; now the -sense of his own impotence appalled him; but at last the bitter fact of -his defeat came home to him in all its nakedness. - -Yes, he had been beaten by a readier and a keener wit, and the most -plausible tongue a villain ever wagged. He had been at the mercy of -that specious charlatan, that unscrupulous blackleg, that scoundrel -self-confessed. He knew it now. Lowndes had put him in the wrong. He -was no match for a man like that. Nevertheless, he was in the right, -and one day it would be proved--and one day Lowndes would get his -deserts. - -And yet--and yet--there were words and looks and tones that had sounded -genuine enough. The man was not wholly false or bad. His good side, his -staunch side, had shown itself again and again, in good and staunch -actions performed without ostentation, and in motive transparently -pure. That side existed in him still, and Harry felt that he had spoken -as though it did not. He was sorry for many things he had said. He -wished he had said other things instead or as well. He wished he had -not flung those shares into the fire, though they proved that Lowndes -had expected him, and they must have been intended for a sop. Still he -was sorry he had thrown them on the fire; and he wished he could unsay -that boast about his being a gentleman because he had not listened; -other considerations apart, it struck him now almost as a contradiction -in terms. - -So to existing tortures he must needs add that of savage -self-criticism. It was the morbid wont of Harry Ringrose, the penalty -of a temperament. In a little, however, sheer perplexity gripped his -mind again, and wrenched it from himself. The old unanswered questions -were upon him once more. - -What had there been between Lowndes and Scrafton and his own poor -father? Were these men in league with the fugitive? Had they planned -the wrong which had ruined and disgraced his family? Lowndes had long -ago confessed that the raising of the £20,000 was his idea, that the -actual acquisition of the £10,000 was his deed. The chances were that -his scheme had gone further and cut deeper, and that at least a part of -the plunder was for himself. Then what had he done with his share--and -what had Scrafton done with his? - -How else could Scrafton come in? - -Harry thought of that ghoulish face, of those cruel hands, and the -blood ran cold in every vessel. If ever he had seen a man capable of -any crime, a man without bowels, as Lowndes was without principle, that -man was Jeremiah Scrafton. What if between them they had murdered the -ironmaster for those ten thousand pounds? What if they had driven him -out of his mind and clapped him into an asylum, or into some vile den -of Scrafton's? Ever quicker to imagine than to reason, the young fellow -tasted all the horror of his theories before he realised their -absurdity: where, again, were the proceeds of the crime? Lowndes was -only now emerging from the very depths of poverty, while as for -Scrafton, he was either an extremely poor man, or a stage miser come to -life. Besides, there was the letter from Dieppe. - -So he went from one blind alley of the brain to another; and of all the -faces that passed him in the fog, there was none he knew--he had no -friend to turn to in his sore dilemma. And he was trudging westward, -going back to face his mother and to live with her in the little flat, -with this miserable mystery unsolved, with these haunting suspicions -unconfirmed, and therefore to be locked indefinitely in his own bosom. -Vultures for his vitals, and yet he must face them, and alone. - -No one to tell--no friend to consult. The words were a dirge in his -heart. Suddenly they changed their tune and became a question. He -stopped dead in the street. It was the Strand. He had just passed the -gulf of fog which hid Waterloo Bridge. - -He stood some minutes, ostensibly studying the engravings in the shop -at the Adam Street corner, and looking again and again at his watch as -though anxious to know the time, but too absent to bear it in mind. It -was five minutes to one when he looked first; by five minutes past that -shop-window and the Strand itself knew Harry Ringrose no more. He was -deep in the yellow gulf, which was dimly bridged by the lights of the -bridge. - -The train took an hour to feel its way to Richmond: it was worse than -the hour spent in the waiting-room of the Crofter Fisheries, Limited. - -At Richmond the fog was white. To make an end of it, Harry took a cab, -and kept the man waiting while he asked if Miss Lowndes was in. A smart -parlour-maid told him that she was; otherwise there was no change. - -Fanny rose hastily from a low chair in front of a blazing fire; her -face was flushed but smiling, and she held up a paper in one hand while -she gave Harry the other. - -He took it mechanically. He had not meant to take it at all. It was the -wretched _Tiddler_, of all papers, which disarmed him. - -"I was just thinking about you," said his friend. "I was trying to find -out which is yours this week." - -"Yes?" - -There was no life in his voice. His heart had leapt with pleasure, only -to begin aching in a new place. - -"We take it in every week on your account," said Fanny Lowndes. - -"You mean that you do," said Harry, pointedly. - -She coloured afresh. - -"No; it is my father who brings it home from the City." - -"Then he never will again!" - -For some seconds their eyes were locked. - -"Mr. Ringrose, what do you mean? Your tone is so strange. Has anything -happened?" - -"Not to your father. He and I have quarrelled--that's all." - -"When?" - -"This morning." - -"And you have come to tell me about that!" - -"I didn't mean to do so. I came to speak to one of the only two friends -I have in the world besides my mother. I came to speak to you -while--while you would speak to me. And now I've gone and spoilt it -all!" - -"Of course you haven't," said the girl, with her kind smile. "Sit down -and tell me all about it. I think all the more of you for saying the -worst thing first." Yet she looked alarmed, and her tone was only less -agitated than his. - -"It is not the worst," groaned Harry Ringrose, "and I can't sit down to -say the sort of thing I've come to say. Oh, but I was a coward to come -to you at all! It was because I had no one else to turn to; and you -have always been my friend; but it was a cowardly thing to do! I will -go away again without saying a word." - -She had sunk down upon her low chair, and was leaning forward so that -he could not see her face, but only the red gold of her hair in the -ruddy firelight. - -"No; now you must go on," she said, without raising her face. - -"It is about your father--and mine." - -"I expected that." - -"I asked him some plain questions which he could not--or would -not--answer. In desperation--in distraction--I have come to put those -questions to you!" - -"It is useless," was the low reply. "I cannot answer them--either." - -"Wait until you hear what they are. They are very simple. What was -there between Scrafton and your father and mine? What had your father -and Scrafton to do with my father's flight? That's all I ask--that's -all I want to know." - -"I cannot tell you what you want to know." - -"Cannot," he said gently, "or dare not?" - -"Cannot!" she cried, and was on her feet with the word, her burning -face flung back and her grey eyes flashing indignation. - -Harry bowed. - -"That is enough for me," he said, "and I apologise for those last -words--but you would understand them if you had heard all that passed -this morning." - -"I do not want to know what passed. My father's affairs are not -necessarily mine. I cannot tell you what you want to know because--I do -not know myself." - -"You have made that clear to me," said Harry, staring out of the window -and through the fog. He could see the gate with the ridiculous name -still painted upon it. It stood wide open as he had left it in his -haste. He thought of the first time he had seen it and entered by it; -he thought of the second time, which had also been the last; and all at -once he thought of a question asked upon the other side of the gate, -and never answered, nor repeated, nor yet remembered, from that day to -this. - -He turned to his companion. - -"You once told me that you knew my father?" - -"Yes, I knew him." - -"You have seen him here in this house?" - -"Yes." - -"I am going to ask you what I asked you once before. You did not answer -then. I entreat you to do so now. When was the last time you saw my -father in this house?" - -The girl drew back in dismay; not a syllable came from her parted lips. - -"Was it since I asked you the question last?" cried Harry, his -imagination at its wildest work in a moment. - -"No." - -"Was it after he was supposed to have disappeared?" - -"No." - -"Was it after he left my mother up north?" - -Miss Lowndes turned away, but there was a mirror over the mantelpiece, -and in it he could see her scarlet anguish. Harry set his teeth. He -must know the truth--the truth came first. - -"So he was here on his way through town. I understood it was my mother -who saw him last. I have to thank you--I do so from my heart--for -setting me so far upon the right track. Oh, I know what it must be to -you to have such things forced from you! I hate to press you like this. -No, Miss Lowndes, duty or no duty, you have only to say the word, and I -will leave you alone." He could not bear the sight of her quivering -shoulders, of the pretty pink ear that was all her hands now let him -see of her face. Unconsciously, however, he had made his strongest -appeal in his latest words; his magnanimity fired that of the girl, his -consideration touched her to the quick, and she turned to him with -noble impulse in her frank, wet eyes. - -"I will tell you of the last time I saw your father," she cried, "on -one condition. You are to question me no more when I have finished." - -Harry took her hand. - -"I promise," he said, and released it instantly. It was no time to -think of her. He must think only of his purpose--his duty--his sacred -obligation as a son. - -"It was on Easter Eve," said his friend steadily. "I was up in my -room--it was just dinner-time--and I saw him come in at the gate." She -could not conceal a shudder. "He looked terrible--terrible--so sad and -so old! My father must have seen him too. I heard their voices, but I -did not hear what they said; my father lowered his voice, and I thought -I heard him telling Mr. Ringrose to do the same. It was all I did hear. -My father came upstairs and said a business friend had come -unexpectedly, and would I mind not coming down? So my dinner was sent -up to me, and afterwards in the dark I saw them go together to the -gate; and at the very gate they met that dreadful man--that man whose -face alone is enough to haunt one. Oh, you know him better than any of -us! You are a master in the same school." - -"Not now," said Harry. "I left yesterday on that man's account. Didn't -he come here yesterday to tell your father?" - -"Not here. He may have been to the new offices. I saw last night there -had been some unpleasantness. Unpleasantness! If you knew what we have -suffered from that monster! One reason why we got in such difficulties -was because he was always coming----" She checked herself suddenly, -with a gesture of disgust and of some underlying emotion. - -"And is that all?" asked Harry gently. "Am I to know nothing beyond -that meeting at the gate?" - -"No, I will tell you the very last I saw of your father--and I will -tell you what I think. The very last I saw of him was when they all -three went out together after talking for a few minutes in the -dining-room below mine. I did not hear a word. What I think is--may God -forgive me, whether I am right or wrong--that the flight was arranged -in those few minutes." - -"You think your father knew all about it?" - -"I cannot help thinking that." - -"When did he come back?" - -The girl turned white. - -"Your promise!" she gasped. "You promised to ask no more questions!" - -"I see," said Harry, grimly. "Your father crossed the Channel with -mine. This is news indeed!" - -"It is not!" cried Miss Lowndes. "I don't admit it. I don't know it. I -don't believe it. He told me he had been up in Scotland; he was always -going up to Scotland then. Oh, why do you try to wring more from me -than I know? I have told you all I know for a fact. Why do you break -your promise?" - -"I didn't mean to," he answered brokenly. "And yet--it was my duty--to -my poor father." - -"Your father is gone," she cried. "Spare mine--and me." - -"Do you mean that he is--dead?" - -She looked at him an instant with startled eyes, as though his had read -the secret suspicion of her heart; then with a wild sob, "I do not -know, I do not know," she cried piteously. With that she burst into -tears. He tried to soothe her. "Leave me--leave me," was all her -answer, and in his helplessness he turned to do so--to leave her bowed -down and weeping passionately--weeping as he had never seen woman weep -before--in the chair from which she had risen to welcome him--with that -foolish paper still lying crumpled at her feet. - -It was so he saw her when he turned again at the door, for a last look -at his friend. The white fog pressed against the panes; a little mist -there was in the room, but the fire burnt very brightly, and against -the glow were those small ears pink with shame, those strong hands -racked with anguish, that fine head bowed low, that lissom figure bent -double in the beautiful abandon of a woman's grief. Young blood took -fire. He forgot everything but her. He could not and he would not leave -her so; in an instant his arms were about her, he was kissing her hair. - -"I love you--I love you--I love you!" he whispered. "Let us think of -nothing else. If we are never to see each other again, thank God I have -told you that!" - -She pushed him back in horror. - -"But it is dreadful, if it is true," she said; and yet she held her -breath until he vowed it was. - -"I have loved you for months," he said, "though I didn't know it at -first. I never meant to love you. I couldn't help myself--it makes me -love you all the more." And his arms were round her once more, in the -first earnest passion of his life, in the first sweet flood of that -passion. - -"If you love me," she whispered, "will you ask no more questions of -me--or of anybody? They will not bring your father back. They may only -implicate--my ather--just as he is coming through his hard, hard -struggles. Can you not leave it in the hands of Providence--for my -sake? It is all I ask; and I think--if you do--it may all come -right--some day." - -"With you?" he cried. "With you and me?" - -"Who knows?" she answered. "You may not care for me so long; but when -there are no more mysteries--well, yes--perhaps." - -"Shall I ever see you meanwhile?" - -"Not until there are no more mysteries--or quarrels." - -"Yet you will not let me try to clear them up." - -"I want you to leave them in the hands of Providence--for my sake." - -"It is hard!" - -"But if you love me you will promise." - - * * * * * - -The cab was still waiting in the mist. Harry sprang into it, wild with -unhidden grief, as one fresh from a death-bed. His perplexity was -returning--his conscience was beginning to gnaw--yet one difficulty was -solved. - -He had promised. - - * * * * * - -A hansom stood at the curb below the flats; the porter was taking down -the luggage; a lady and a gentleman were on the stairs. - -"I hope, for every reason, that we shall find him in," the gentleman -was saying. "If not I must wait a little, for I feel that a few words -from me may be of value to him at this juncture, quite apart from the -little proposal I have to make." - -"I would not count on his accepting it," the lady ventured to observe. - -"My dear Mary----" - -Uncle Spencer got no further. Harry's arms were round his mother's -neck. And in a few moments they were all three in the flat, where the -porter's wife had the fires lighted and everything comfortable in -response to a telegram from Mrs. Ringrose. - -"But we must have the gas lit," cried the lady. "I want to look at you, -my dear, and I cannot in this fog." - -"It'll keep, mother, it'll keep," said Harry, who had his own reasons -for not courting a close inspection. - -"I quite agree with Henry," said Mr. Walthew. "To light the gas before -it is actually dark is an extravagance which _I_ cannot afford. I do -not permit it in my house, Mary." Harry promptly struck a match. - -"Come, my boy, and let me have a look at you," said Mrs. Ringrose when -the blinds were drawn. She drew his face close to hers. "Let him say -what he likes," she whispered: "I have been with them all this time. -Never mind, my darling," she cried aloud; "it must have been a horrid -place, and I am thankful to have you back." - -Mr. Walthew prepared to say what he liked, his pulpit the hearthrug, -and his theme the fiasco of the day before. - -"I must say, Mary, that your sentiments are astounding. Naturally he -looks troubled. He has lost the post it took him four months to secure. -I confess, Henry, that I, for my part, was less surprised this morning -than when I heard you had obtained your late situation. With the very -serious limitations which I learnt from your own lips, however, you -could scarcely hope to hold your own in a scholastic avocation. I told -you so, in effect, at the time, if you remember. Was it the Greek or -the mathematics that caused your downfall?" - -Harry had not said what it was in his letter. He now explained, with a -grim smile as he thought of _Mangnall's Questions_ and _Little Steps to -Great Events_. He described Scrafton's brutality in a few words, and in -fewer still the scene of the day before. His mother's indignation was -even louder than her applause. Uncle Spencer looked horrified at them -both. - -"So it was insubordination!" cried he. "You took the side of the boys -against their master and your elder! Really, Henry, there is no more to -be said. Your mother's sympathy I consider most misplaced. I tell you -frankly that you need expect none from me." - -"Did I say I expected any, Uncle Spencer?" - -"That," said Mr. Walthew, "is a remark worthy of your friend Mr. -Lowndes, the most impudent fellow I ever met in my life." - -"He is no longer a friend of mine," said Harry Ringrose. - -"I am glad to hear it, Henry." - -"Do you mean that you have quarrelled?" cried Mrs. Ringrose. - -"For good, mother; you shall hear about it afterwards. I can't forgive -a liar, and no more must you. I have bowled Lowndes out in a thundering -lie--and told him what I thought of him--that's all." - -Mrs. Ringrose looked troubled, but inquisitive for particulars. Her -brother did not smile, but for an instant his expression ceased to be -that of a professional mute. - -"'Liar' and 'lie,'" said he, "are stronger language than I approve of, -Henry; but if anybody deserves such epithets I feel sure it is Mr. -Gordon Lowndes. The man impressed me as a falsehood-teller when he came -to my house, and I feel sure that the prospectus of this new Crofter -Company, which reached me this morning, is nothing but a tissue of -untruths from beginning to end. A thoroughly bad man, Henry, a lost and -irredeemable sinner, who might have dragged you with him to fire -eternal!" - -"I did not find him thoroughly bad, Uncle Spencer," said his nephew -civilly. "On the contrary, I believe there is more good in him than in -most of us; but--you can't depend upon him, and there you are." - -"Yet you would defend him!" exclaimed Mr. Walthew, with a sneer. "Well, -well, I have no time to argue with you, Henry; _my_ time is precious, -so may I ask how you propose to fill yours now? You have tried and -failed for the City; you have tried and failed for the Law; and now you -have tried schoolmastering, and failed still more conspicuously. What -do you think of trying next?" - -"Something that I have been trying for some time without failing so -badly as at the other things." - -"Literature!" cried Mrs. Ringrose. - -"Literature, forsooth!" echoed the clergyman, before Harry had time to -repudiate the word. "I suppose, Mary, that you are alluding to the -productions you have shown me in the paper with the unspeakable name? -Well, Henry, if that's your literature, let's say no more about it; -only I am almost sorry you did not fail there, too. You cannot, -however, devote all or even much of your time to such buffoonery, and -it was to speak to you about some permanent occupation that I -accompanied your mother this afternoon. What should you say to the -Civil Service?" - -"I couldn't possibly get into it, uncle." - -"Into the higher branches you certainly could not, Henry. But a -second-class clerkship in one of the lower branches I think you might -obtain, with ordinary application and perseverance. I am only sorry it -did not occur to me before." - -"What are the lower branches?" asked Harry, doubtfully. - -"The Excise and the Customs are two." - -"And the salary?" - -"From eighty-five to two hundred pounds in the Excise, which is the -service I recommend. I have been making inquiries about it this -morning. A parishioner of mine is sending his son in for it. The lad is -to attend classes at Exeter Hall, under the auspices of the Young Men's -Christian Association, and I understand that mensuration is the only -really difficult subject. What I propose to do, Henry, is to present -you to-morrow with a ticket for the course of these classes which -commences next week." - -"You are very kind, Uncle Spencer----" - -Mr. Walthew waved his hand as though not totally unaware of it. - -"But----" - -"But what?" cried Uncle Spencer. - -"I believe before very, very long I should make as much money with my -pen." - -"You decline my offer?" - -"I am exceedingly grateful for it." - -"Yet you elect to go on writing rubbish for an extremely vulgar paper -for the rest of your days." - -"Not for the rest of my days, I hope, Uncle Spencer. I mean it to be a -stepping-stone to better things." - -"So you think you can earn eighty-five pounds a year by your pen!" -sneered the clergyman, buttoning up his overcoat. - -"I mean to try," said Harry, provoked into a firmer tone. - -"Is this your deliberate decision?" - -"It is." - -"Then I am sorry I wasted my time by coming so far to hold out a -helping hand to you. It is the last time, Henry. You may go your own -way after this. Only, when your pen brings you to the poorhouse, don't -come to me--that's all!" - -Harry contrived to keep his temper without effort. Pinpricks do not -hurt a man with a mortal wound. As for Mrs. Ringrose, she had fled -before the proposal which she knew was coming, and of the result of -which she felt equally sure. But she came to her door to bid the -offended clergyman good-bye, and at last her boy and she were alone. He -flung his arms round her neck. - -"I am never going to leave you again!" he cried passionately. "I am not -going to look for any more work. I am going to stop at home and write -for _T.T._ until I can teach myself to write something better. I am -going to work for you and for us both. I am going to do my work beside -you, and you're going to help me. We ought never to have separated. -Nothing shall ever separate us again!" - -"Until you marry," murmured Mrs. Ringrose. - -"I will never marry!" cried her boy. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - -YOUNG INK. - - -So it was that Harry Ringrose took finally to his pen towards the close -of the most momentous year of his existence; for four years from that -date there was but one sort of dramatic interest in his life. There was -the dramatic interest of the electric bell; and that was all. - -In the early days, when the roll of the little steel drum broke a -silence or cut short a speech, the eyes of mother and son would meet -involuntarily with the same look. Her needles would cease clicking. His -pen would spring from the unfinished word. Each had the other's -thought, and neither uttered it. Many a man had fled the country in his -panic, to pluck up courage and return in his cooler senses. Many a man -effaced himself for a time, but few for ever. The ironmaster's last -letter confessed flight and promised self-effacement. He might have -thought better of it--that might be he at the bell. One of the two -within got over this feeling in time; the other never did. - -The dogged plodder at the desk endured other heartburnings of which the -little steel drum beat the signal. Knockers these flats had not, and -the postman usually rang a second before he thrust the letter through -the door. It was a breathless second for Harry Ringrose. He developed -an incredibly fine ear for what came through. He was never deceived in -the thud of a rejected manuscript. He used to vow that a proof fell -with peculiar softness, and, later, that a press-cutting was -unmistakable because you could not hear it fall. He had an essay on the -subject in his second book, published when he was twenty-five. - -His first book had been one of the minor successes of its season. It -had made a small, a very small, name for Harry, but had developed his -character more than his fame. It is an ominous coincidence, however, -that in conception his first book was as barefaced and as cold-blooded -as his first verses in _Uncle Tom's Magazine_. - -For nearly three years he had been writing up, for as many guineas as -possible, those African anecdotes which he had brought home with him -for conversational purposes. In this way he had wasted much excellent -material, to which, however, he was not too proud to return when he -knew better. Heaven knows how many times he used the lion in the -moonlight and his friend the Portuguese murderer of Zambesi blacks. One -would have thought--he thought himself--that he had squeezed the last -drop from his African orange, when one fine day he saw the way to make -the pulp pay better than the juice. It was not his own way. It was the -way of the greatest humorist then living. Harry took the whole of his -two years abroad, and eyed them afresh from that humorist's point of -view, as he apprehended it. He saw the things the great man would have -seized upon, and the way it seemed to Harry he would have treated them. -The result was a comic lion in the moonlight, and a more or less -amusing murderer. He had treated these things tragically hitherto. - -The book purported to be fact, and was certainly not fiction, for -which, indeed, our young author had no definite aptitude. It earned him -an ambiguous compliment from various reviewers who insisted on dubbing -him the English So-and-so; but it was lucky for Harry that the new -humour was then an unmade phrase. His humour was not new, but that -would not have saved it from the category. It was keen enough, however, -in its way, and not too desperately subtle for the man on the -knifeboard. Yet Harry's first book, after "going" for a few weeks, -showed a want of staying power, and was but a very moderate success -after all. A few papers hailed Mr. Ringrose as the humorist for whom -England had been sighing since the death of Charles Dickens, and -predicted that his book would be the book of the season and of many -seasons to come. Such enthusiasm was inevitable from organs which let -loose at least one genius a week; but Harry did not realise the -inevitability all at once. For a week or two he could not give his name -in a shop without a wholly unnecessary blush; while he took his mother -to look at empty houses in West End squares, thanks to indiscriminate -praise from irresponsible quarters. On the whole, however, Harry had no -reason to complain of the treatment accorded to his first-born; and, to -descend to lower details, he sold the copyright for a small sum, which -was, nevertheless, quite as much as the publishers could possibly have -made out of it. - -But it was in indirect ways that this book did most for Harry Ringrose. -It made new friends for him at a time when his acquaintance was badly -in need of some fresh blood. Years of immersion in solitary work must -narrow and may warp a man; and the almost exclusive companionship of -his dear mother, whose only interest he was in the present, and who -vastly overrated his merits, was a joy too great not to be purchased at -a price. It kept the lad's heart tender and his life of fair report, -but it tended to monopolise his sympathies, and it did not increase his -knowledge of the outside world. In the world of letters he had made but -one friend in those first three years. This was a youth of Harry's own -age, who, with a board-school education, was on the staff of an evening -paper, in a position which the public-school boy was certainly not -competent to fill. Harry stormed this fortress with a little article on -"Portuguese Africa"--which the Editor would label "By an -Afrikander"--and the acquaintance was struck up outside that -gentleman's door. It ripened in a bar to which the young fellows used -to repair whenever Harry was in the Strand. There, over a glass of -bitter--or two--or three--he used to hear at first hand of the great -novelists whom he longed to meet, but with whom his friend the -journalist seemed on enviable terms. It was merely that the latter was -in the heart of the big game, whereas Harry was playing a very little -game of his own, in an exceedingly remote corner of the field. - -His book was not a huge success, but it succeeded well enough to take -him out of his corner. His friend the journalist (who managed to review -the thing himself in his paper) wrote to tell Harry of a distinguished -lady who was so enchanted with it that she begged him to take the -author to see her. Harry had no means of knowing that the lady's -enchantment was as chronic as the enthusiasm of the paper which had -hailed him as a genius, and that the demand was not for himself, but -for the latest name. He was still a very simple-minded person, and he -waited on this lady with all alacrity, and under her wing made his bow -in the sort of society of which he had heard with envy in the Gaiety -bar. It cannot be said, however, that he did anybody much credit; he -had been too long in his corner, and had an awkward manner when not -perfectly at home. Yet a number of other ladies asked him to go and see -them, and one invited him to dinner at her smart house--where the -wretched Harry distinguished himself by freezing into a solid block of -self-consciousness and hardly opening his mouth. - -But it was all very valuable experience, and, instead of two or three, -he knew a good many people by the end of that winter. He became a -member of a club, and got on intimate terms with men whose names and -work had become familiar to him in these years. They enlarged his -sympathies--they extended his boundaries on every side. And they made -him know himself as he had not known himself before. All at once he -realised that he had fewer interests than other men, that his nose had -been too close to his own grindstone, that the mind he had been slaving -to develop had grown narrow in the process. It was a rather bitter -discovery, until one day it struck him there was another side to -narrowness, and he sat down and began his "Plea for Narrow Minds" on -the spot. This article secured a better place in the periodicals than -anything Harry Ringrose had then written. It attracted some attention -during the month of its appearance, and even on republication in his -second book. But it was generally considered a frivolous adventure in -mere paradox (on a par with a companion paper "On Enjoying Bad -Health"), whereas it was really a reaction against the writer's own -self-criticism. - -"Cant is not necessarily humbug," declared our scribe, "and there is -probably less hypocrisy in the cant of breadth than in any other kind -of cant. It may spring from a laudable ambition to be on the side of -the good angels in all things. But it is apt to crystallise in a pose. -For my part, when I meet a typically broad-minded man, who sees good in -everybody and merit in everything, either I suspect his sincerity or I -doubt his depth. I want to know if he is saying (_a_) what he thinks, -or (_b_) what he thinks he ought to think. Either he is insincere and a -prig, or he means what he says and is shallow. Those wonderfully wide -sympathies are too often sympathy spread thin. The odds are against -your being very deep as well as very broad." - -There were those critics who remarked that the sapient essayist came -under both his own categories, whereupon Harry lay awake all night -wondering whether he did. And it was "A Plea for Narrow Minds" that -drew from Miss Lowndes the letter which she never posted, but which -came into Harry's hands long afterwards. She agreed with him in part, -but by no means on the whole; in fact, her letter was a remonstrance, -written impulsively in a dainty boudoir of Berkeley Square, and found -long afterwards in an escritoire. Harry often wondered whether the -woman he loved ever read what he wrote. She read everything he signed, -and would never have dropped _Tommy Tiddler_ had she dreamt he was -still a comic singer in its columns. But Harry saw nothing and heard -but little of his quondam friends. He knew they lived in Berkeley -Square--he knew they were very rich. He had heard of the dividend the -Crofter Fisheries were paying, and what he would have to give now for -the shares which he had committed to the flames. He had also read -_Truth's_ opinion of the concern, and wondered why the action for so -obvious a libel hung fire. He sometimes wondered, too, how it was that -he never met either the father or the daughter from whom he had severed -with such different emotions on the same thick November day. He did not -know that the daughter once fled from a party on hearing he was -expected--and was sorry afterwards. - -Curiously enough, the very article which failed to gain the good -opinion he coveted most, was so fortunate as to secure that of Harry's -most severe and least respected critic. The Reverend Spencer Walthew -read religion between the lines, and, having written to thank his -nephew for his spirited though veiled attack on the Broad Church party, -concluded by begging him to have a go at the Ritualists. - -"I have seldom had a more unexpected pleasure," wrote the Evangelical -divine, "than you have given me by this shrewd blow against the vice of -tolerance and the ultra-charitable spirit which I regard as one of the -great dangers of the age. We want no charity for the heretic and the -ritualist--with whom I trust you will deal unmercifully without delay. -I cannot conclude, Henry, without telling you what a relief it is to me -to see you at last turning your attention to serious subjects. I feel -sure that they are the only ones worthy of a Christian's pen. I have -never concealed from you my pain and disgust at the levity of almost -all your writings hitherto, although I have tried to do justice to the -literary quality, which, on the whole, has been distinctly better than -might have been expected. It is the greater pleasure to me, therefore, -to recognise the serious purpose and the lofty aim of your latest -essay. May you never again descend to 'humorous' accounts of your -'adventures,' or to inferior versifying for papers which are not to be -seen in respectable houses!" - -Harry, however, had never ceased his connection with the _Tiddler_, -although it was not one of the things he mentioned to the notorious -interviewer who came to patronise him in those days, and to whom he -caught his mother showing the parody on Gray's Elegy. _T.T._ had been a -good friend to Harry at the foot of the hill, and he was not going to -desert just yet, even if he could have afforded to do so. Of the £51 -10s. 9d. which he managed to make in the first year, £34 4s. was from -the _Tiddler's_ coffers; of the third year's £223 14s. 6d. (a mighty -leap from the intermediate year), £55 12s. was from the same genial -source. And so we find him towards the end of the fourth year--not -quite such a good one as the last--fighting hard to touch the second -hundred for the second time, and writing verses in his pyjamas at -midnight at the close of a long day's work on an ungrateful book. - -The flat is no longer that in which Harry Ringrose found his mother; it -is a slightly larger one in the same mansions on a higher floor; and -instead of Weber's Last Waltz, a lusty youth, who arrived there on the -same night as Harry, supplies the unsolicited accompaniment inseparable -from life in a flat. - -Only one room has been gained by the change; but in it sleeps a -servant, an old retainer of the family; and the sitting-room is larger, -so that there is ample room in it for the rather luxurious desk which -Harry has bought himself, and at which we find him seated, his back to -the books and his nose in his rhyming dictionary, taking his most -trivial task seriously, as was ever his wont, on a warm night in the -middle of September. - -He is a little altered--not much. He is thicker set; the legs in the -pyjamas are less lean. His face is older, but still extremely young. He -has tried to grow a moustache, but failed, and given it up; and the two -blots of whisker show that he has no candid girl friend now; and the -blue stubble on his chin means that his mother is away. His black hair -inclines to length, not altogether because he thinks it looks -interesting, but chiefly because he has been too busy to get it cut. He -has not yet affected the _pince-nez_ or the spectacles of the average -literary man. But he is smoking at his desk; he will be smoking -presently in his bed; and on a small table stand a bottle of whisky and -a syphon. - -Suddenly a ring at the bell. - -At half-past twelve at night a prolonged tattoo on the little steel -drum! - -Harry was greatly startled, as a man may easily be who is working at -night after working all day. Yet he would have been much more startled -the September before. - -Since then his books had come out, and he had made a number of friends. -Only the night before a play-actor had looked in after his "show," and -they had sat up reading Keats against Shelley, and capping Swinburne -with Rossetti, until the whisky was finished and daylight shamed them -in their cups. Harry thoroughly enjoyed a Bohemian life in his mother's -absence, though indeed she let him do exactly as he liked when she was -there. Was it the actor again, or was it.... - -Not for months had the old fancy seized him with the ringing of the -bell. It was only the lateness of the hour which brought it back -to-night. Yet the look with which the young fellow rose was one that he -wore often enough when there were none to see. It was a look of utter -misery barbed with shame unspeakable and undying. Sometimes the mother -had seen it--and taken the shame and the misery for his share of their -common hidden grief. She little knew! - -The gas was burning in the passage, but lowered on the common landing -outside. Harry could see nothing through the ground glass which formed -the upper portion of the door. He flung it open. A tall man was -standing on the mat. - -"Good evening, Mr. Ringrose," said he, and took a tremendous pinch of -snuff as Harry drew back in dismay. - -It was Jeremiah Scrafton. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - -SCRAFTON'S STORY. - - -Harry had not heard of him for nearly four years, had not set eyes on -him since their scuffle at the school. But only a few days later -Leonard Bickersteth had called at the flat with strange news of -Scrafton. He had never returned to the Hollies; he had disappeared from -his lodgings; it was impossible to trace his whereabouts. The motive of -his flight, on the other hand, seemed pretty clear. Mrs. Bickersteth -had been questioning the boys, with the result that Harry's charges -were sufficiently proved, as Scrafton must have known they would be, -and hence his sudden desertion. Leonard Bickersteth had proceeded, on -his mother's behalf, to make Harry an apology and an offer which did -that lady equal credit. But the younger man was too perturbed either to -accept the one or to decline the other as cordially or as civilly as he -desired. He had his own explanation of Scrafton's flight. It had been a -nightmare to him ever since. And here was the central figure of that -nightmare standing before him in the flesh, with his snuff-box in his -hand, and the old ferocious grin upon his pallid glistening face. - -"Surprised to see me, are you?" cried Scrafton, taking another pinch. - -"I am," said Harry, looking the other in the face, and yet reflecting -its pallor. - -"You'll be still more surprised when you hear what I've come to tell -you. Ain't you going to ask me in?" - -"Come in by all means, if you wish," said Harry, coldly. - -"I do wish," was the answer. "Are you alone?" - -"Absolutely," said Harry, as he closed the door and led the way into -the sitting-room. - -"I thought you lived with your mother?" - -"She is away." - -"Do you keep a servant?" - -"Yes." - -"Not next door, I hope?" said Scrafton, tapping the wall to gauge its -thickness. - -"No, at the other end of the flat; and she's used to late comers." - -Scrafton glanced at Harry obliquely out of his light-blue eyes. Then -they fell on the whisky bottle, and he favoured Harry with a different -look. - -"Help yourself." - -Scrafton did so with his left hand so clasped about the glass that it -was impossible to see how much he took. His hand seemed bonier than -formerly, but it was no less grimy, and the fingernails were still -rimmed with black. He was dressed as of old, only better. It was a -moderately new frock-coat, and as he sat down with his glass Harry saw -that he did wear socks. His beard and moustache were whiter; they -showed the snuff-stains all the more. - -It was the rocking-chair this man was desecrating with his pestilent -person; while Harry, having shut the door, had reseated himself at his -desk, but turned his chair so that he sat facing Scrafton, with an -elbow on his blotting-pad. - -"I have come," said the visitor, putting his glass down empty, "to tell -you the truth about your father." - -"I thought as much." - -"The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth," continued -Scrafton, eying the bottle wistfully. "Do you suppose now that he is -living or dead?" - -"I have no idea." - -"He is dead." - -Harry did not open his mouth. He could not appreciate the news of his -father's death, but then he would have been equally slow to realise -that he was alive. So completely had the missing ironmaster passed out -of the world of ascertainable fact and of positive statement; so dead -was he already to his son. - -"When did he die?" asked the latter presently; and his voice was -unmoved. - -"On the night between Good Friday and Easter Day." - -"This year?" - -"No; over four years ago." - -Harry leapt to his feet. - -"Where was it he died?" - -"At sea----" - -"At sea!" - -"Between Newhaven and Dieppe." - -"But how--how?" - -"He was murdered." - -Harry seemed to have known it all along. He could not utter another -syllable. But his wild eyes and his outstretched hands asked their -question plainly. - -"By your friend Gordon Lowndes," said Scrafton coolly. - -Harry came down heavily in his chair, and his hands lay on the desk, -and his face lay in his hands; but he was acutely conscious, and he -heard the furtive trickle as Scrafton seized the opportunity of -replenishing his glass. The man drank. To anybody but an innocent it -might have been obvious four years ago. He was one of those whom drink -made pallid and ferocious; to get more from him while still sober, -Harry started up as suddenly as he had subsided, causing the other to -spill some liquor in his beard. - -"Take all you want," cried Harry, "only tell me everything first. I -must know everything now. I have suspected it so long." - -He leant forward to listen, this time with an elbow on each knee, but -with his face again buried in his hands. Scrafton kept a gleaming eye -upon him, as he dried his beard with his coat-sleeve, and supplemented -the spirit with a couple of his most sickening inhalations. - -"I will begin at the beginning," said he; "but you needn't have any -fears about my not reaching the end, for I've never had less than a -bottle a night when I could get it, and the man doesn't breathe who -ever saw Jeremiah Scrafton the worse. What you have here is only enough -to make me thirsty, and I may want another bottle broached before I'm -done. Meanwhile, to begin at the beginning, you must know that it is -some years now since I made our friend's acquaintance at Richmond. We -spotted each other one night by the river, and though he was old enough -to be your father, and I was old enough to be his, I'm hanged if it -wasn't like a man and a woman! He took to me, and I took to him. We -were both clever men, and we were both poor men. His head was full of -ways of making his pile, and my head was full of one way worth all his -put together. You're a dunce at mathematics, Master Ringrose. Have you -ever played roulette?" - -"Never." - -"Then you wouldn't understand my system, even if I was to tell it you, -and I wouldn't do that for a thousand pounds. Lowndes has offered me -more than that for it--wanted to form a syndicate to work it--offered -me half profits; but not for Jeremiah! I'll double the capital that's -put in, and I'll pay it back with cent. per cent. interest, but I'll -rot before I do more. I told him so years ago, and I've never budged. I -never told him or anybody else my system, and I never will. I may not -live to work it now. I may never get another chance of the capital. But -if I don't benefit from it, nobody else ever shall; it's my secret, and -it'll go with me to the worm. One comfort is that nobody else is likely -to hit upon it--no other living mathematician has the brain!" - -Harry could not help looking up; and there sat Scrafton in his mother's -chair, his head thrown sublimely back, a grin of exultation amid the -rank hair upon his face, and the light of drunken genius in his fiery -blue eyes. There was something arrestive about the man; a certain vile -distinction; a certain demoniac fascination, which diverted Harry's -attention in spite of himself. It was with an effort that he shook the -creature from his brain, and asked how all this affected his poor -father's fate. - -"There is a weak point common to every system," replied Scrafton, "and -want of money was the one weak point of mine. Without capital it was no -use." - -"Well?" - -"With a thousand I'd have backed myself to bring it off; with five it -was a moral certainty; with ten a dead certainty. Now do you see where -your father came in?" - -"It was ten thousand pounds Lowndes got him!" - -"And twenty I'd have handed him, cent. per cent., on what he put in." - -"Go on," said Harry, hoarsely. - -Scrafton grinned until his yellow fangs gleamed through their snuffy -screen; he took another pinch before complying. "It's waste of breath," -said he, "for you must see for yourself what happened next. Lowndes -knows I've been waiting all my life for a man with ten thousand pounds -and the nerve to trust me, but he comes to make sure of me before going -down to your father with the ten thousand and the dodge of making it -twenty. I'm his man, of course; but your father won't listen to it; as -good as shows our friend the door, but keeps the money, and says he'll -pay it back himself, and then fail like an honest man. Back comes old -Lowndes to Richmond, with his tail between his legs, on the Thursday -night. Next day's Good Friday, and your father spends it at -home--thinking about it--thinking about it--saying good-bye to -everything--making up his mind to fail next day. All right, I'll stop -if you like; he couldn't do it, that's all; and on the Saturday -evening, just as I was going to ask Lowndes if the crash had come, and -if we couldn't run down together and try again before it did, who -should I meet coming out of the gate but Lowndes and the man himself! -He'd caved in of his own accord. I was the very man they wanted, and in -five minutes we were all three on our way to the station. It was then -after eight, I recollect, but we just caught a fast train to Waterloo, -and from there we galloped to London Bridge, and jumped into the -boat-train as she was moving out of the station at nine sharp." - -"Which boat-train?" asked Harry suspiciously. It was his first chance -of cross-examination. Up to this point every statement tallied with the -statements of Fanny Lowndes, made now nearly four years ago, but -unforgettable in the smallest detail. And for an instant he was back in -the little room at Richmond, the bright fire within, the white fog -without, and the face of his beloved red with shame and wet with agony. -Good God, what a barrier it had been! Her father the murderer of his! -He remembered that the thought had occurred to him, but only in his -wild moments, never seriously. And she must have suspected--might even -have known it--at the time! - -"What did you say?" said Harry, for, in the sudden tumult of his -thoughts, Scrafton's answer had been lost upon him. - -"It was the train for Newhaven, that runs in connection with the boat -to Dieppe." - -"What was your destination?" asked Harry, alert and suspicious once -more. - -"Monte Carlo." - -"That was no way to go." - -"It was an unusual way; your father insisted upon it on that account; -he was the less likely to be seen and recognised." - -Harry started up, mixed some whisky and soda water for himself, and -tossed it off at a gulp. - -"Now," he said, "tell me the worst--tell me the end--and you shall -finish the bottle." - -"As you like," said the other. "It isn't the most hospitable way of -treating a man; but as you like--especially as there's very little to -tell. I'll tell you exactly what I saw and discovered; neither more nor -less; for, first of all, you must understand that we were all three to -travel separately. I went third in the train and second on the boat, -but they took first-class tickets right through. They were not to look -at me, nor I at them. At Newhaven I saw them, but turned my back. They -were both very quiet, and I foresaw no trouble. Of foul play I never -dreamt until Lowndes stole into the second saloon and touched me on the -shoulder. Nobody saw him, for it was a nasty night, and all but me were -sick and prostrate. But I was practising my little combination with a -pencil and a bit of paper, and I tell you his face gave me a turn. He -said it was sea-sickness; but I knew better even then. - -"I was to go aft and see Ringrose that minute. What was the matter? He -was trying to back out--swearing he'd return by the next boat and face -his creditors like a man. Would I go and reassure him of the absolute -certainty of doubling his ten thousand? So I got up, and Lowndes led -the way to the private cabin your father had taken for the night. - -"And a wicked night it was! I recollect holding on for dear life as we -made our way aft along the gallery where the private berths were. On -one side the rail hung over the sea, on the other a line of doors and -portholes hung over us, and underneath you had a wet deck at an angle -that felt like forty-five. It was very dark, just light enough to see -that we had the lee-side down there to ourselves. And when Lowndes -opened one of the doors and climbed into one of the cabins he nearly -fell out again on top of me. Or so he pretended. The cabin was empty. I -pushed him in and shut the door, and stood with my back to it. Your -father had vanished; yet there were his ulster and his travelling cap -on the settee; and Lowndes's teeth were chattering in his head. - -"'He's jumped overboard!' says he. - -"'You pushed him over,' says I. 'You may as well make a clean breast of -it, for I see it in your face.' - -"In another minute he had confessed the whole thing. Your father had -been leaning over that rail, feeling fit to die, and swearing he was -going back by the next boat. In a fit of passion Lowndes had tipped him -over the side, and in the black darkness, and the noise of the wind and -the engines, he had gone down without a cry. That was the end of Henry -Ringrose. He was drowned in the Channel in the small hours of Easter -Day, four years and a half ago. Instead of a runaway swindler he was a -murdered man--and now you know who murdered him!" - -Harry never spoke. His face was still in his hands. - -Scrafton opened his snuff-box and took an impatient pinch. - -"I tell you that your father is a murdered man," he cried, "and Gordon -Lowndes is his murderer!" - -Harry looked up with a curious smile. - -"It's a lie," said he. "He wrote to my mother from Dieppe." - -"Show me the letter." - -"I can't; and wouldn't if I could." - -"It was a forgery." - -"But I have seen it." - -"I can't help that." - -"I thought it might be a forgery until I came to examine it," admitted -Harry. - -"It was one. You can only have examined the first page." - -"What do you mean?" - -"It was genuine; the next was not. The letter was written on both sides -of half a sheet, and the other half torn off. If you could get hold of -it I would show you in a minute." - -"You shall show me!" cried Harry Ringrose. "If you prove what you -say----" - -He checked himself with a gesture of misery and bewilderment. What was -he to do if the man proved what he said? What would it be his duty to -do? - -He knew where his mother kept the letters she most prized, the ones -that he had himself written her from Africa, and this last letter from -her husband. He went into her room and broke open her desk without -compunction. It was no time for nice scruples on so vital a point. And -yet when he returned to the other room, and found Scrafton smacking his -lips over the tumbler that he had filled and almost drained in those -few moments, it seemed a sacrilege to let such eyes see such a letter. -Instinctively he drew back from those outstretched unclean talons; but -Scrafton only burst into hoarse laughter. - -"Don't I tell you it's more than half a forgery?" cried he. "Oh, keep -it yourself, by all manner of means. I've seen it before, thank you. -But it's waste of time looking at the front page; that's genuine, I -tell you; turn over and try the other." - -"I believe that's genuine too." - -"Then you'd believe anything. Why, it's written in different ink, to -begin with. Hold it to the light and you'll see." - -Harry did so; and the ink on both sides looked black at first sight; -but closer inspection revealed a subtle difference. - -"It was begun in blue-black ink," gasped Harry, "and finished in some -other kind." - -"Exactly." - -"But the pen seems to have been the same." - -"It was the gold pen your father used to carry about with him in his -waistcoat pocket. But it seems he felt hot when he returned to the -berth, after writing this letter in the saloon, for I found his -waistcoat hanging on one of the hooks, and the pen was in the pocket." - -"You say 'after writing this letter.'" - -"I meant the first page of it. The second is a forgery. Look again at -both, and you will see that whereas there is a kind of regular -irregularity about the first page, due to the motion of the boat, the -irregularity of the second is a sham. It was the most difficult part to -imitate." - -Harry could see that it was so; but at these last words he looked up -suddenly from the letter. - -"You speak as though you had committed the forgery yourself," said he. - -"I did," was the calm reply. "Lowndes couldn't have used his pen like -that to save his life. Don't excite yourself, young fellow. I make no -secret that I was his accessory after the fact. I am going to confess -that in open court, and I don't much care what they do with me--so long -as they hang the dog who refused to give me a sixpence this evening." - -He glared horribly out of his now bloodshot eyes, and took snuff with a -truculent snap of his filthy fingers. - -"So that's what brings you to me?" said Harry Ringrose. "You would have -done better to take your confession straight to the police; but since -you are here you had better go on if you want to convince me. You say -my father went overboard in mid-Channel. How was it he was afterwards -seen in Dieppe?" - -Scrafton leant forward with his demon's grin. - -"He wasn't," said he. "_I_ was seen in his ulster, with his comforter -round my beard, and his travelling cap over my eyes. It was I who -walked into thin air, as the papers said, from the _café_ in Dieppe. -And it was in the _café_ the second page of the letter was written, as -you see it now. As your father wrote it, the letter finished on the -fourth page, the two in between being left blank. I finished it on the -second page, and then tore off the fourth. I have it here." - -And he produced the greasy pocket-book which he had used as a -score-book in Bushey Park. - -"Let me see it," whispered Harry. - -"Will you give me your word to return it instantly?" - -"My word of honour." - -The page of writing that was now put into Harry's trembling hands is -printed underneath the genuine beginning of his father's letter, and -above the forgery. - - "S.S. _Seine_, - "Easter Morning, - "188-- - - "My dearest Wife, - - "Half frantic with remorse, degradation, sorrow, and shame, I sit - down to write you the last letter you may ever receive from your - unhappy husband. - - "When I said good-bye to you this morning I could not tell you that - it might be good-bye for ever. I told you I was going up to town on - business. How could I tell you that the business was to take my - passage for the Continent? Yet it was nothing else, and I write - this midway between Newhaven and Dieppe, where I shall post it. - - "My wife, I could not bear to give back the ten thousand pounds - that was only half enough to save us. I am going where I hope to - - (genuine) - - double it in a night. A man is going with me who has an infallible - system; also another man who swears by the first man, and whom I - myself can trust. I know that it is a mad as well as a wicked thing - to do. I am going to gamble with other men's money--to play for my - home and for my life. Yes; if I lose, my end will be the end of - many another dishonest fool at Monte Carlo. You will never see me - again. - - "I am altogether beside myself. I am not mad, but I am near to - madness. I do not think I should have done such a wild thing in my - sane senses--and yet these men are so sure! Forgive me whether I - win or lose, whether I live or die, and let our boy profit by my - example and my end. I can say no more. My brain is on fire. I may - or may not post this. But I was obliged to tell you. God bless you! - God bless you! - - "Your distracted husband." - - (forgery) - - "be forgotten altogether, going with other men's money! I know that - it is a mad as well as a wicked thing to do. I do not think I - should have done such a wild thing in my sane senses, but I am - altogether beside myself. I am not mad, but I am near to madness. - - "Good-bye for ever. You will never see me again. Forgive me whether - I live or die; and let our boy profit by my example and my end. I - can say no more. My brain is on fire. God bless you! God bless you! - - "Your distracted husband." - -The devilish ingenuity of the fraud was not lost upon the reader. -Hardly a word, hardly a phrase was used in the forgery for which there -was not a definite model in the original, and the imitation was no -less miraculous as a whole than when taken word by word. The very -incoherence of the letter was one of its most convincing features; the -way in which it began by saying it might be "good-bye for ever," and -ended by confessing that it was, was just the way a maddened man might -choose for breaking the news of his terrible intention. - -Judged impartially, side by side, the genuine page looked no more -genuine than the other. - -The clock struck two: the younger man raised his face from a long -reverie, and there were the terrible eyes of Scrafton still upon him. -He was equally at a loss what to think, what to believe, what to do; -but all at once his eyes fell upon the "copy" on his desk; it must go -by the three o'clock post, or it would be too late for the next issue. - -Mechanically he began folding up his various contributions--punning -paragraphs--four-line quips--a set of verses that he had completed. The -other set, upon which he had been engaged on Scrafton's entry, he -tossed aside, but all that was ready he put into a long envelope, which -he addressed, weighed, and stamped as though nobody had been there. -Scrafton watched him with his grinning eyes, but leapt up and overtook -Harry as he was leaving the room. - -"You're not going out, are you?" - -"Yes, to the post." - -"What, like that?" - -"Not a soul will be about, and there's a pillar just under the -windows." - -"What is it you want to post?" - -"Nonsense for a comic paper." - -Harry held up his envelope. The other read the address, and it quenched -the suspicion in his fiery eyes, but opened them very wide. - -"So you can think of your comic paper after this!" - -"I must think of something, or I shall go mad." - -"Well, where's another bottle of whisky before you go?" - -Harry fetched one from the dining-room, and in another moment he was on -the stairs, with an overcoat over his pyjamas, and the latch-key in his -hand. His brain was in a whirl. He had no idea what to do when he -returned, what steps to take, and no clear sight of his duty by his -dead father. If he was dead, there was an end. But how could he believe -the word of that ghoul upstairs? And yet, was there anything to be -gained by his returning with the police? For the very idea had occurred -to Harry, of which Scrafton had at first suspected and then acquitted -him. - -He could see his way no farther than the posting of his "copy"; that -little commonplace necessity had come as a timely godsend to him; he -only wished the pillar was a mile instead of a yard away. - -As he emerged from the mansions a couple of men retired farther into -the shadow of the opposite houses; as he turned from the pillar-box one -of these men was crossing the road towards him, having recognised -Harry; and it was the very man of whom he was thinking--of whom he was -trying to think as his own father's murderer. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - -A MASTERSTROKE. - - -"Well, Ringrose!" - -Gordon Lowndes did not look a day older since Harry had seen him last. -He wore a light cape over his evening dress, a crush-hat on his head, -and behind and below the same gold-rimmed glasses there twinkled and -trembled the shrewd eyes and the singular sharp-pointed nose. The eyes -were as full of friendship as in the earliest days of the intimacy that -had come to a violent end nearly four years ago. And they had lost the -old furtive look which had inspired vague suspicion from the first; -nothing could have been franker or kindlier than their glance; but -Harry recoiled with a ghastly face. - -The story he had just heard was still ringing in his ears. It might not -be true in every detail, but it was circumstantial, there was the proof -of the letter, and much of the rest bore the stamp of truth. Certain it -was that a foul crime had been committed, and that one of these two men -had been the other's accomplice, if not in its commission then after -the fact. And what was Lowndes doing here, and what was Scrafton doing -upstairs, unless they were accomplices still? - -A vague feeling that he had been tricked and trapped, to what end he -could not conceive, made Harry put his back to the railings, clench his -fists, and set his teeth; yet there was nothing in the other's look to -support such a theory. - -"Come, Ringrose," said he, "I think I know what's the matter! I know -whom you've got upstairs. I can guess what he's been telling you." - -"You can?" - -"Certainly I can. In point of fact, it's not guesswork at all. He was -good enough to warn me of his intention." - -"Well?" - -"He's been telling you that I did what he did himself." - -"Which of you am I to believe?" cried Harry in a frenzy. "You are -villains both! I believe you did it between you!" - -"Steady, Ringrose, steady. I have given you provocation in the past, -but I am not provoking you now. That your father's fate was different -from what I led you to believe it would be idle to deny any longer, -especially as I am here to clear up the mystery once and for all. Take -me upstairs and you shall know the truth." - -"What! Trust myself to the two of you?" - -Lowndes pointed to the shadowy figure across the road. - -"And to the man who is with me." - -"Who is he?" - -"The first detective in London," whispered Lowndes, in his pat, -decisive way. "Now, will you take me up to bowl out Scrafton, or shall -I call to him to come down, and make a scene here in the street? My -dear Ringrose, I may have my faults, but do you seriously mean to take -his word before mine?" - -"Come up if you like," said Harry, shortly; and Lowndes turned to the -man in the shadow. - -"When I throw up a window," Harry heard him say, and he led the way -upstairs, feeling once more as though he were walking into a trap with -his eyes open. - -"Leave the key in the door," whispered Lowndes again as they stood on -the mat. "Then he will be able to come and help us if necessary." - -There was something strangely trustworthy in his face and his voice; -something new in Harry's knowledge of the man. He left the key in the -door, and he felt next moment that he had done right. Scrafton had -leapt to his feet with fear and ferocity in his face, and the empty -spirit-bottle caught up in his hand. - -"What do _you_ want?" he roared. "What are _you_ doing here? You fool, -I've told him everything! Shut the door, you, young fellow; now he's -come we won't let him slip." - -Harry humoured him by shutting it. He had only to look on their two -faces to see which was the villain now. - -"I've told him!" repeated Scrafton, in a loud, jeering voice. "I told -you I'd round on you if ever you went back on me, and I've been as good -as my word. He knows now who persuaded his father to go abroad, and he -knows why. He knows who went with him. He knows who pushed him -overboard and took the money." - -"It's pretty plain, isn't it?" said Lowndes to Harry. "Be prepared to -close with him the moment he lifts that bottle higher than his -shoulder, and I'll tell you honestly what I did do. It will save time, -however, if you first tell me what this fellow says I did." - -Harry did so in the fewest words, while they both stood watching -Scrafton, grinning in their faces as he held the empty bottle in rest. -His grin broadened as the tale proceeded. And so strange was the -growing triumph in the fierce blue eyes, if it were all untrue, that at -the end Harry turned to Lowndes and asked him point-blank whether there -was any truth in it at all. - -"Heaps," was the reply. "It's nothing but the truth up to a certain -point. I am not here to exonerate myself from fault, Ringrose, and not -even altogether from crime. It is perfectly true that it was at my -instigation your father consented to go abroad and put his faith in -this fellow's system. It was a wild scheme, if you like, but it was -either that or certain ruin, and I'd have risked it myself without the -slightest hesitation. I firmly believe, too, that it would have come -off if we'd kept cool and played well together--for make no mistake -about the mere ability of our friend with the bottle--but it never came -to that. Your father weakened on it halfway across the Channel, and -vowed he'd go back by the next boat and fail like a man. That's true -enough, and it's also true that after reasoning with him in vain I went -to send Scrafton to reassure him about the system; and here's where the -lies begin. I didn't go back with him to the empty cabin. I followed -him in a few minutes, and there he was alone, and there and then he -started accusing me of what he'd obviously done himself." - -"Obviously!" jeered Scrafton. "So obviously that he made no attempt to -prove it at the time!" - -"I stood no chance of doing so. It would have been oath against oath. -And meanwhile, Ringrose, there were the two of us in a tight place -together--and the French lights in sight! There was nothing for it but -to pull together for the time being, and to avoid discovery of your -father's disappearance at all costs. What was done couldn't be undone; -and discovery would have meant destruction to us both, without anybody -else being a bit the better. So Scrafton went ashore muffled up in your -father's ulster, as he has told you himself; and, indeed, the rest of -his story is--only too true." - -"You consented to this?" cried Harry, recoiling from both men, as one -stood shamefaced and the other took snuff with a triumphant flourish. - -"Consented to it?" roared Scrafton. "He proposed it, bless you!" - -"That's not true, Lowndes?" - -"I'm ashamed to say it is, Ringrose. We were in a frightful hole. -Something had to be done right there and then." - -"So you went ashore together?" - -"No; we arranged to meet." - -"To concoct the forgery I've been shown to-night? You had a hand in -that, had you?" - -"I had a voice." - -"Yet none of the guilt is yours!" - -The tone cut like a knife. Lowndes had been hanging his head, but his -spectacles flashed as he raised it now. - -"I never said that!" cried he. "God knows I was guilty enough after the -event; and God knows, also, that I did what I could to make it up to -you and yours in every other way later on. You may smile in my face--I -deserve it--but what would you have gained if I had blown the gaff? -Nothing at all; whereas I should have been bowled out in getting your -father abroad with the very money I'd raised to save the ship; and that -alone would have been the very devil for me. No Crofter Fisheries! Very -likely Wormwood Scrubs instead! I couldn't face it; so I held my -tongue, and I've been paying for it to this ruffian ever since." - -"Paying for it!" echoed Scrafton. "Paying _me_ to hold _my_ tongue; -that's what he means!" - -"It is true enough," said Lowndes quietly, in answer to a look from -Harry. - -"He admits it!" cried Scrafton, snuffing horribly in his exultation; -"he might just as well admit the whole thing. Who but a guilty man pays -another to hold his tongue?" - -"I have confessed the full extent of my guilt," said Lowndes, in the -same quiet voice. - -"Then why were you such a blockhead as to put yourself at my mercy -to-night?" roared the other, his bloodshot eyes breaking into a sudden -blaze of fury. - -Lowndes stood a little without replying; and Harry Ringrose, still -wavering between the two men, and as yet distrusting and condemning -them equally in his heart, saw all at once a twinkle in the spectacled -eyes which weighed more with him than words. A twitch of the sharp nose -completed a characteristic look which Harry could neither forget nor -misunderstand; it was not that of the losing side; and now, for the -first time, the lad could believe it was a real detective, and not a -third accomplice, who was waiting in the street below. - -"Do you think I am the man to put myself at your mercy?" asked Lowndes -at length, and with increased serenity. - -"You've done so, you blockhead! You've put the rope round your own -neck!" - -"On the contrary, my good Scrafton, I've simply waited until I was -certain of slipping it round yours. You would see that for yourself if -you hadn't drunk your brain to a pulp. You would have seen it by the -way I sent you to the devil this evening. However, I think you're -beginning to see it now!" - -"I see nothing," snarled Scrafton; "and you can prove nothing! But if I -can't hang you, I can tell enough to make you glad to go out and hang -yourself. It doesn't much matter what happens to me. I'm old and poor, -and about done for in any case, or I might think more of my own skin. -But you're on the top of the wave--and I'll have you back in the -trough! You're living on the fat of the land--you shall see how you -like skilly! Never mind who did the trick; who took the money when it -was done?" - -Harry turned once more to Lowndes, and, despite his late convictions, -the question was reflected in his face. - -"The notes went overboard with your father," said Lowndes. "The gold we -found in his bag in the cabin." - -"And what did you do with the gold?" - -Scrafton echoed the question with his jeering laugh. - -"Ringrose," said Lowndes, "it didn't amount to very much; what I -consented to take I used for your mother and you, so help me God!" - -"Your mother and my eye!" cried Scrafton. "A likely yarn!" - -"I believe it," said Harry, after a pause. - -"You believe him?" screamed Scrafton. - -"Certainly--before you." - -"After all the lies he's owned up to?" - -"After everything!" - -Scrafton gnashed his teeth, and his bloodshot eyes blazed again. - -"You had my version first, you blockhead!" he burst out. "You never -would have had his otherwise. Can't you see he's only trying to turn -the tables on me? I tell you he threw your father into the sea, so he -turns round and says I did it! Let him prove a word of it. Do you hear, -you lying devil? Prove it; prove it if you can!" - -Lowndes stepped over to the window and threw up the centre sash very -casually. - -"It's a warm night for this sort of thing," he remarked. "Prove it, do -you say? That's exactly what I'm going to do, if you'll give me time. -Steady with that bottle, though--watch him, Ringrose--that's better! So -you still insist on having a proof, eh? Do you think I'd have refused -your demands this evening if I hadn't had one? My good fellow, there -was a man in my house at the time who is in a position to convict you -at last. He has been on your track for years--and here he is!" - -As the door opened, Harry kept his eyes on Scrafton, and on the empty -bottle he still gripped by the neck. Instead of being raised, it -slipped through his slackened fingers and fell upon the hearthrug. A -moment later Scrafton himself crashed in a heap where he stood. - -Harry turned round; a bronzed gentleman with snow-white whiskers had -entered the room and was holding out his arms to him, the tears -standing thick in his eyes. - -"My son--my son!" - - * * * * * - -The mist was clearing from Harry's eyes; a trembling hand held each of -his; trembling lips had touched his forehead. - -"Father--father--is it really you?" - -"By God's mercy--only." - -"They said you were drowned!" - -"I was saved by a miracle." - -"Yet you have kept away from us all these years!" - -"It was the least I could do, Harry. The slur was on you and your -mother. I had cast it on you; it was for me to remove it; or never to -show my face again. God has been very good to me. I will tell you all. -I am only sorry I consented to this scene." - -Lowndes was kneeling over the prostrate Scrafton, loosening the snuffy -raiment, feeling the feeble heart, pouring more whisky into the fallen -mouth that reeked of it already. - -"Is there nothing we can do?" said Mr. Ringrose. - -"He will be all right in a minute or two." - -"I am sorry I was a party to this business!" - -"Not a bit of it, my dear sir! It was what he deserved. Sorry I told -you your father was a detective, Ringrose. I wanted you to believe me -for once before you saw him, that was all. You'll never believe me -again--and that's what _I_ deserve." - -He had looked round for a moment from the senseless man; now he bent -over him once more; and father and son stepped forward anxiously. The -high forehead, the dirty, iron-grey hair, and the long lean nose, were -all that they could see; the glistening skin was of a leaden pallor. - -"Is it more than a faint?" asked Mr. Ringrose. "Ah! I am thankful." - -The blue eyes had opened; the flowing beard was moving from side to -side; a feeble hand feeling for a waistcoat pocket. - -"My snuff-box," he whined. "I want my snuff-box." - -Harry found it and gave it to him; and after the first pinch Scrafton -was sitting upright; after the second he was struggling to his feet -with their help, and scowling at them all in turn. He shook off their -hands as soon as he felt his feet under him; and with a fine effort he -tried to stalk, but could only totter, to the door. Harry was very loth -to let him go, but it was his father who held the door open, while -Lowndes nodded his approval of the course. - -But in the doorway Scrafton turned and glared at the trio like a sick -grey wolf, and shook an unclean fist in their faces before he went. - -They heard him taking snuff upon the stairs. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - -RESTITUTION. - - -Shortly after Scrafton's departure, Gordon Lowndes also took his leave. -It was not, however, until he had offered Harry his hand with much -diffidence, and the younger man had grasped it without a moment's -hesitation. At this the other coloured and dropped his eyes, but stood -for some moments returning Harry's pressure twofold. - -"Ringrose," he faltered, "I would give all I'm worth to-night to have -told the truth in the beginning. But how could I? I might as well have -blown my brains out. I--I tried to be your friend instead. I suppose -you'll never let me be your friend any more?" - -It is doubtful whether any man could have said these words to Harry -Ringrose, in any conceivable circumstances, without receiving some such -response as that which instantly burst from his lips. Want of -generosity was not one of Harry's faults; yet he had no sooner forgiven -Lowndes, once and for all, and with a whole heart, than an inner voice -reminded him that he had but served self-interest in doing so; and the -reason, coming home to him like a bullet, gave a strange turn to his -emotions. - -The father was sitting in a deep reverie in his wife's chair: his face -was in his hands: he neither saw nor heard. Harry looked at him, -hesitated, and in the end not only saw Lowndes to the door but -accompanied him downstairs in the first leaden light of the September -morning. He had something more to say. - -He merely wanted to know whether Miss Lowndes was in town, and whether -he might call. Yet he only got it out as they were shaking hands for -the last time. - -"You mean at Berkeley Square?" said Lowndes. - -"Yes--if I may." - -"You'll have to be quick about it, Ringrose. We leave there in a day or -two. The men are already in the house. Still, I've no doubt she'll be -glad to see you." - -"Taking a country seat?" asked Harry, smiling. - -"No, a suburban one: the sort of thing we had at Richmond, only rather -better." - -"You don't mean it!" - -"A fact." - -"But the Crofters are paying such a dividend?" - -Gordon Lowndes shrugged his shoulders with a gesture that reminded -Harry of former days. - -"A paltry fourteen per cent.!" said he. "I'm sick of it. I thought we -should all be millionaires by this time. I've sold out, and, of course, -at a good enough figure; but we've been doing ourselves pretty well -these last few years, and I haven't got much change out of the Crofters -after all. In point of fact, it would take a few thousands to clear me; -but, on the other hand, the credit's better than ever it was, and I'm -simply chock-a-block with new plans. Loaded to the muzzle, Ringrose, -and just spoiling for the fray! I know my nature better than ever I -knew it before. I wasn't built for sitting in a chair and drawing my -salary and receiving my dividends. I've found that out. It's worrying -the thing through that I enjoy; there's some sport in that. However, -I'm as lively as an old cheese with schemes and ideas; and one of them, -at least, should appeal to you. It's a composite daily paper on -absolutely new lines--that is, on all existing lines run parallel for a -penny. My idea is to knock out the _Times_ and the _Guardian_ on one -hand, and _Punch_ and the _Pink 'Un_ on the other. What should you say -to coming in as comic editor at a four-figure screw?" - -"Where's the capitalist?" was what Harry said. - -"Where is he not?" cried Lowndes. "Every man Jack of them would jump at -it! I made such a success of the Crofters that I could raise a million -to-morrow for any crack-brained scheme I liked to put my name to. Yes, -my boy, I'll have my pick of the capitalists this time; have them -coming to me with their hats in one hand and their cheque-books in the -other; but, between ourselves, I don't think we shall have far to seek -for our man, Ringrose!" - -"What do you mean?" cried Harry, his curiosity whetted by the other's -tone. - -"Ask your father," was the reply. "I may be mistaken, and he mayn't -have made such a pile as I imagine; but he'll tell you as soon as he -has you to himself; and meanwhile I'll warn Fanny that you're going to -look her up." - -A hansom tinkled and twinkled across the jaws of Earl's Court Road; and -as the light-hearted rapscallion darted off in pursuit, few would have -believed with what a deed he had been connected; fewer still with what -emotion he had lamented his wickedness not five minutes ago. - - * * * * * - -The father had not stirred, but he looked up as Harry burst in, -breathless and ashamed. - -"What, have you been out?" - -"Yes, father," with deep humility. - -"And where is Lowndes?" - -"I have been seeing him off." - -"I never heard him go," said Mr. Ringrose, with a deep sigh. "The old -things about me--they carried me back into the past. One question, -Harry, and then you shall hear all you care to know. We found out from -the commissionaire that your mother is at Eastbourne. What is she doing -there?" - -"I thought it would set her up for the winter." - -"Is she not well?" - -"Perfectly, father; but--she likes it, and--we were able to do it last -year." - -"She is in lodgings, then, and alone?" - -"Yes." - -"When does the next train leave?" - -"Eight-ten," said Harry, a minute later. - -Mr. Ringrose had shaded his eyes once more. They shone like a young -man's as with a sudden gesture he whisked his hand away and snatched at -his watch. - -"Only five hours more! Thank God--thank God--that I can look her in the -face to-day!" - - * * * * * - -"Do you remember how I taught you to swim when you were a tiny shrimp? -It was my one accomplishment in my own boyhood, my one love among -outdoor sports, and I sometimes think it must have been implanted in me -for the express purpose of saving my life when the time came. Certainly -nothing else could have saved it; and I cannot think that I was spared -by mere chance, Harry, but intentionally, for better things. Mine had -been an easy life up to that time; even in my difficulties it had been -an easy life. Well, it has not been easy since! - -"He stunned me first--that's how it happened. He struck me a murderous -blow as I was leaving him to go in search of Lowndes. I knew no more -until I was in the water. Then, before my head was clear, my limbs were -doing their work. I was keeping myself afloat. I kept myself afloat -until close upon daylight, when a French fisherman picked me up. He -carried me to his cottage on the coast, and treated me from first to -last with a kindness which I hope still to reward. At the time I bought -his silence, with but little faith in his sticking to his bargain; now -I know how loyally he must have done so. When I left him it was to find -my way to Havre, and at Havre I took ship for Naples. I had still a -little paper-money which had not come to me from Lowndes, and which I -did not think likely to leave traces. With this money I transhipped at -Naples, after reading of my own mysterious disappearance from Dieppe. -Yes, that puzzled me; but I thought and thought, and hit at last upon -something not altogether unlike the actual explanation. No, I never -contemplated returning to unmask the villain who had attempted my -murder. I was beginning to feel almost grateful to him. It was to him I -owed such a fresh start as no ruined man ever had before.... Harry, -Harry, don't look like that! My ruin was complete in any case. How -could I come back and say I had been running away with the money, but -had thought better of it? I could have come back in the beginning, and -met my creditors without telling them what I had been tempted to do. -This was impossible now. It was too late to undo the immediate effects -of my disappearance; it was not too late to begin life afresh under -another name and in another land. Rightly or wrongly, that is what I -resolved to do--for my family's sake as much as for my own. They must -forgive me, or my heart will break!" - - * * * * * - -It was to Durban that the fugitive had taken ship at Naples. He had -landed on those shores within a month of the day on which his son had -quitted them. And the first man he met there was one who recognised him -on the spot. But good came of it; the man was an old friend, and proved -a true one; he was down from Johannesburg on business, and when he -returned Mr. Ringrose accompanied him. With this staunch friend the -ironmaster's secret was safe; and partly through him, and partly with -him--for within the year the pair were partners--the man who had lost a -fortune bit by bit in the old country had made another by leaps and -bounds in the new. Which was a sufficiently romantic story when Harry -came to hear it in detail at a later date. At the time it was but the -bare fact that the father cared to chronicle or the son to hear. It was -the result on which Mr. Ringrose preferred to dwell. That very day he -had returned with interest (before he knew that his wife had been -paying it all these years) the money those four old friends had lent -him through Gordon Lowndes. He had barely touched it, and would have -returned it long ago, only he did not want his wife and son to know -that he was alive until he could come back to them a rich enough man to -atone in some degree for the wrong that he had done them--for the -poverty and the shame they had endured for his sake. - -Harry said that Lowndes had spoken as though his father was a -millionaire. Mr. Ringrose smiled slightly as he shook his head. - -"That's entirely his own idea," said he. "There might have been some -truth in it in a few more years; but, as it is, it was no great pile I -set myself to make, and I am more than content in having made it. In -point of fact I am a poorer man than I was when you were born, but I am -a free man for the first time for many years. This very day I have paid -every penny that I owed here in town. A cheque is also on its way to -the old firm, with which they can settle to-morrow any outstanding -liabilities, and put the rest into the works in my name. And now I can -face your mother. I could not do it until I could tell her this." - -Yet he had not been a dozen hours in England; the cheques had been -written on board, and posted the moment he landed. On reaching London -he had gone straight to Gordon Lowndes, and it was only the almost -simultaneous arrival of Scrafton which had kept him so long from -seeking his own. Scrafton, who had latterly taken to pestering his -victim almost daily, had ultimately left him (to the delight of -Lowndes) with the avowed intention of carrying out his old threat and -going straight to Harry Ringrose. In what followed Harry's father had -once more yielded, against his better judgment, to Gordon Lowndes. - -"It was his frankness that did it," said Mr. Ringrose; "he told me -everything, before he need have told me anything at all, in his sheer -joy at seeing me alive. He told me everything that he has since told -you, and upon my word I am not sure that you or I would have acted very -differently in his place. It was while we were talking that Scrafton -called, and I learned for myself how Lowndes had suffered at his hands. -I could not refuse to give him his revenge, though I should have vastly -preferred to give it him there. Scrafton had gone, however, and Lowndes -seemed almost equally anxious that you should judge between them, as it -were, on their merits. So he had his way ... I am glad you have made it -up with him, Harry. He is a strange mixture of good and bad, but which -of us is not? And which of us does not need forgiveness from the other? -I--most of all--need it from you!" - -"And I from you," said Harry in a low voice. - -"You? Why?" - -"Four years ago I suspected foul play. I was sure of it. Some other -time I will tell you why." - -"I rather think Lowndes has told me already. Well?" - -"I held my tongue! I found out most on the promise of not trying to -find out any more. I shall never forgive myself for making that -promise--and keeping it." - -"Nay; thank God you did that!" - -"You don't know what I mean." - -"I think I do." - -"Every day I have felt a traitor to you!" - -"I think there has been a little morbid exaggeration," said Mr. -Ringrose, with his worn smile. "What good could you have done? And to -whom did you make this promise?" - -Harry told him with a red face. - - * * * * * - -The night was at an end. Milk-carts clattered in the streets; milkmen -clattered on the stairs. Harry put out the single light that had been -burning all night in the sober front of the many-windowed mansions; and -in the early morning he took his father over the flat. The rooms had -never seemed so few--so tiny. Mr. Ringrose made no remark until he was -back in the only good one that the flat contained. - -"And your mother has made shift here all these years!" he exclaimed -then, and the remorse in his voice had never sounded so acute. - -"Oh, no; we have only been here a year." - -"Where were you before?" - -"In a smaller flat downstairs." - -"A smaller one than this? God forgive me! I was not prepared for much; -but from what I read I did expect more than this!" - -"From what you read?" cried Harry. "Read where?" - -A new light shone in the father's face. "In some paragraphs I once -stumbled across in some paper--I have them in my pocket at this -moment!" said he. "Did you suppose I never saw your name in the papers, -Harry? It has been my one link with you both. I saw it first by -accident, and ever since I have searched for it, and sent for -everything I could hear of that had your name to it. So I have always -had good news of you; and sometimes between the lines I have thought I -read good news of your mother too. God bless you ... God bless you ... -for working for her ... and taking my place." - - * * * * * - -The old servant wept over her old master as though her heart would -break with gladness. Her breakfast was a sorry thing, but no sooner was -it on the table than she was sent down for a hansom, and she was still -whistling when the gentlemen rushed after her and flew to find one for -themselves. It was ten minutes to eight, and their train left Victoria -at ten minutes past. - -Mrs. Ringrose was reading quietly in her room--reading some proof-sheets -which Harry had posted to her the day before--when she heard the bell -ring and her boy's own step upon the stairs. "You have news!" she cried -as he entered; then at his face--"He has come back!" - -"Mother, did you expect it?" - -"I have expected it every morning of all these years. I have prayed for -it every night." - -"Your prayer is answered!" - -"Where is he?" - -"I left him in the cab----" - -"But he could not wait!" cried a broken voice; and as Harry stood aside -to let his father pass, he could see nothing through his own tears, but -he never forgot the next words he heard. - -"I have paid them all--all--all!" his father cried. "I can look the -world in the face once more!" - -"I care nothing about that," his mother answered. "You have come back -to me. Oh! you have come back!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - -A TALE APART. - - -Harry Ringrose used sometimes to complain of his life from a literary -point of view. This piece of ingratitude he was wont to couch in the -technical terminology with which his conversation was rather freely -garnished. He acknowledged that his "African horse had good legs," as -Gordon Lowndes would remind him; it was the later years that set him -grumbling. In Harry's opinion they were full of "good stuff," which he -longed to "handle"; but the facts were so badly "constructed" (as facts -will be) that all the king's horses and all the king's men could not -pull them to pieces and put them together again without spoiling them. -Then there were the "unities": our author was not quite clear as to -their meaning, but he had an uncomfortable presentiment that they would -prove another difficulty. And the "dramatic interest" lacked -continuity. It was also of too many different kinds. The play began in -one theatre, went on in another, and finished across the river. Worst -of all was the "love story:" it disappeared for years, and then came -altogether in a lump. - -This was true. It did. And if Harry Ringrose had essayed the task to -which his innate subjectivity and the want of better ideas often drew -him, there is no saying how much he would have made of scenes which the -impersonal historian is content simply to mention. Of such was the -meeting which took place within a few hours of that other meeting in -the Eastbourne lodgings. Yet this proved to be the beginning of a new -story rather than the end of an old one, which poor Harry meant it to -be, as he returned alone to town the same afternoon, and drove straight -to Berkeley Square. - -His excitement is not to be described. It seemed but a day since the -leave-taking in the little shabby drawing-room on Richmond Hill. He -remembered his own words so clearly. He remembered her replies. There -were no more mysteries now; there were no more quarrels; and he cared -still, as he had always done, Heaven knew! If only she still cared for -him--if only there was nobody else--what was there to hinder it for -another minute? - -Nothing, one would have thought: yet it was dusk when Harry rang the -bell in a shivering glow of hope and fear, and nearly midnight when he -came away downcast and disheartened: and during all those hours but one -he had been pressing an unsuccessful suit: though he had her word for -it that there was nobody else. - -What was there, then? - -Those six years which had once given Harry Ringrose a misleading sense -of safety. - -And literally nothing else! - - * * * * * - -He called again next day. He hindered the removal on the plea of making -himself useful. And in season and out of season he tried his luck in -vain. - -In the broad light of day he was met by a new and awful argument: his -beloved showed him what she declared to be a genuine and flagrant -crow's-foot; and he only a boy of twenty-five! - -The removal was soon over, and for Harry the town emptied itself just -as it was filling for everybody else; so then he took to writing -tremendous letters; and an answer was never wanting in the course of a -day or so; only it was never the answer he besought. - -Her fondness for him was obvious and not denied; only she had got it -into her head that those six years between them were an insuperable -bar, that a boy like Harry could not possibly know his own mind, and, -therefore, that it would be manifestly unfair to take him at his word. - -So the thing resolved itself into a question of time; and, in the midst -of other changes in his life, Harry did his best to bury himself in his -work; but his comic verses were as much as he could manage, and for -several weeks in succession these were the feeblest feature in _Tommy -Tiddler_. - -Then he went to her in despair. - -"I can't stand it any longer!" - -"Then give it up." - -"I've waited five months!" - -"I said six." - -"Surely five is enough to show whether a fellow knows his own mind?" - -"Some of it may be mere obstinacy." - -"Well, then, it's playing the very mischief with my work." - -"Then what _will_ it be when we are married?" - -"I beg your pardon?" - -"I mean to say if we ever are." - -"Fanny, you said _when_!" - -"I meant _if_." - -"But you _said_ WHEN!!" - - * * * * * - -It was the thin edge of the wedge. - - * * * * * - -This protracted siege had other sides. It was not a joke to either -party. Yet each tried to treat it as one. The man tried to conceal his -disappointment, his inevitable chagrin; the woman, her deep and -selfless anxiety as to whether, in all the years before them, he would -be happy always--truly happy--happy as a man could be. She looked so -far ahead, and he such a little way. Sometimes they told each other -their thoughts; sometimes they were less happy than lovers ought to be; -but all these months their inner lives were very full. They did not -stagnate in each other's love. They lived intensely and they felt -acutely. And that is why, if Harry Ringrose were to tell his own love -story, and tell it honestly, it would be a tale apart. - - * * * * * - -When the time came there was some little heart-burning as to who should -perform the ceremony. Harry had set his heart on being married by his -dear Mr. Innes. This man still filled a unique place in his life. -Indeed the many friendships that he had struck up in the last year or -two only emphasised the value of that friend of friends: there was no -one like Mr. Innes. They had not seen a great deal of each other during -these last years; but they had never quite lost touch; and of the many -influences to which the younger man's nature responded only too -readily, as strings to every wind, there was none so constant or so -helpful as that of the old master to whom he was now content to be as a -boy all his days. It was not that he had paid very many visits to the -school at Guildford: it was that each had left its own indelible -impress on his mind, its own high resolves and noble yearnings in his -heart. So it was natural enough that Harry Ringrose should want that -man to marry him to whom he vowed that he owed such shreds of virtue as -he possessed. And Fanny wished it too, for she had been with Harry to -Guildford, and caught his enthusiasm, and knelt by his side one summer -evening in the chapel where he had knelt as a boy. But it was not to -be; there was a clergy-man in the family; it would be impossible to -pass him over. - -Harry thought it would be not only possible but highly desirable, since -his Uncle Spencer disapproved so cordially of Gordon Lowndes; but Mrs. -Ringrose (with whom her son had warm words on the subject) very justly -observed that such disapproval had not once been expressed since the -engagement was announced; nor had her brother uttered one syllable to -mar her own great happiness in her husband's return, but had shown a -more tender sympathy in her joy than in her trouble; after which he -must marry them, or they could be married without their mother. The -matter was settled by a private appeal to Innes himself, who sided -against Harry, and by a note from Mr. Walthew, in which that gentleman -accepted the responsibility with fewer reservations than Harry had ever -known him make before. - -"To tell you the truth," wrote Uncle Spencer, "it is against all my -principles to make engagements so many weeks ahead; but every rule has -its exception, and I shall be very happy to officiate on December 1st, -if I am spared, and if it has not seemed good to you meanwhile to -postpone the event. I must say that in my poor judgment a longer -engagement would have shown greater wisdom: your Aunt and I waited some -five years and a quarter! As you say that you are determined to depend -(almost entirely) on your own efforts, it would have been well, in our -opinion, to follow our example, and to wait until your literary -position is more established than your warmest admirer can consider it -to be at present. At the same time, my dear Henry, if marriage leads -you into a less frivolous vein of writing (such as I once hoped you -were about to adopt), I for one shall be thankful--if only you are also -able to make both ends meet." - -Gordon Lowndes read this letter with such uproarious delight that Harry -was sorry he had shown it to him. - -"There's that brother of mine," said he; "the chap we wired to for the -tenner; _he_ would want a finger in the pie if he knew. But he's -forgotten our existence since we left Berkeley Square, and I'm hanged -if I remember his again. Besides, he's as High as your uncle's Low, and -they might set on each other in the church. On the whole I'm sorry it -isn't to be your schoolmaster friend. I want to meet that man, -Ringrose. I want to turn that school of his into a Limited Liability -Company." - - * * * * * - -It took place very quietly on a bright keen winter's day. Harry's -parents were there, and Gordon Lowndes, and another. Mr. Walthew -performed the ceremony in a slow and sober fashion which added -something to its solemnity; the church was very still and empty; and in -one awful pause the bridegroom's voice deserted him, in the mere -fulness of his boyish heart. But the hand that he was holding pressed -his with the familiar, firm, kind pressure, and it was from his heart -of hearts that the lagging words burst: - -"I will!" - - -THE END. - - -PRINTED BY CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED, LA BELLE SAUVAGE, LONDON, E.C. - - - - -SECOND EDITION. - -MY LORD DUKE. - -By E. W. HORNUNG, - -_Author of "The Rogue's March," "Tiny Luttrell," "A Bride from the -Bush," etc._ - -Price 6s. - - "'My Lord Duke' is _thoroughly clever and amusing_."--_Athenæum._ - - "From the first page to the last Mr. Hornung's story is - _fascinating and powerful_."--_Pall Mall Gazette._ - - "_Worth any dozen of the novels_ which would compete with it for - popular favour."--_Daily Mail._ - - "One of the most agreeable novels that we can - remember."--_Academy._ - - "Mr. Hornung is to be congratulated on having produced _a bright - and amusing story_."--_Daily Telegraph._ - - "'The Dook,' as he first calls himself, and Olivia are _delightful - creations_ of an undeniable freshness and originality."--_Morning - Post._ - - "Full of boisterous mirth, and _leaves the pleasantest of - impressions_."--_Scotsman._ - - "With this tale Mr. Hornung has made a _distinct step forward_ - as a novelist. 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