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| author | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2026-03-18 11:38:27 -0700 |
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| committer | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2026-03-18 11:38:27 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/78235-0.txt b/78235-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..abc7a3c --- /dev/null +++ b/78235-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5993 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78235 *** + + + + +_BY W. W. JACOBS_ + + + SEA WHISPERS + DEEP WATERS + THE CASTAWAYS + NIGHT WATCHES + SHIP’S COMPANY + SAILORS’ KNOTS + SALTHAVEN + SHORT CRUISES + CAPTAINS ALL + DIALSTONE LANE + ODD CRAFT + AT SUNWICH PORT + +_CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS_ + + + + +SEA WHISPERS + + + + +[Illustration: “‘I’m going to give Peter something else to laugh +about,’ ses Ginger”] + + + + +SEA WHISPERS + +BY +W. W. JACOBS + + +_ILLUSTRATED BY BERT THOMAS_ + + +CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS +NEW YORK : : : : : : 1927 + + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1926, BY +CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS + +Printed in the United States of America + +[Illustration] + + + + +TO +THE MEMORY OF MY FRIEND +JAMES B. PINKER + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER PAGE + +I. THE BRAVO 1 + +II. TAKING PAINS 31 + +III. HIS BROTHER’S KEEPER 57 + +IV. TRUST MONEY 84 + +V. KITCHEN COMPANY 113 + +VI. THE MODEL 140 + +VII. ARTFUL CARDS 158 + +VIII. HANDSOME HARRY 186 + +IX. THE BLINDNESS OF CAPT. FERGUSON 213 + +X. WAPPING-ON-THAMES 232 + +XI. THE INTERRUPTION 242 + +XII. BED CASES 272 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +“‘I’m going to give Peter something else to laugh +about,’ ses Ginger” _Frontispiece_ + + FACING PAGE + +“‘I want to come inside,’ he ses, shoving ’is face +close up to mine. ‘I believe you’ve got my +gal there’” 11 + +“‘Stand up,’ says Alf, pullin’ ’im by the collar--stand +up and take wot’s comin’ to you’” _Page_ 27 + +The marvellous case of Old Mr. Jackson 35 + +“Ho, Ho,” said the other. “All right--don’t +worry--mum’s the word” 61 + +“And then Mr. Jackson took ’im a bit to one side +and whispered to ’im” _Page_ 97 + +“‘You’ve killed ’im,’ ses Peter, staring. ‘Good +job,’ ses Ginger, thinking of ’is pore leg. +‘Come on, let’s get Sam’s money back.’” 104 + +The Captain stayed to see Fair Play 137 + +“Beautiful,” said the artist joyfully--“beautiful” 143 + +“Where’s old Sam?” he ses. “Wot ’ave you +done with him?” 175 + +“Sam came into the room looking very bright +and pleased with ’imself” _Page_ 181 + +“If he’s only half as good looking as what you +say he is we might fall in love with him” 192 + +“No you mustn’t,” said his wife, pushing his great +form back into the chair 215 + +While master-mariners sat drinking in the bow-windows +afore-said 233 + +The last time he looked at Hannah was the first +time for months he had looked at her without +loathing and hatred 270 + +“Outside,” ses the Landlord--“d’ye ’ear me?--_OUTSIDE_” 275 + + + + +The Bravo + + + + +The Bravo + + +There was a chill air off the river, and the water looked cold and +dark. Side-lights were already appearing, and the siren of a large +steamer coming up indulged in grievous lamentations. A slight shiver +altered for a moment the contour of the night-watchman’s jersey. He +patted it tenderly. + +“There’s worse things than loneliness, though,” he said after a long +silence, “and a man as does his dooty can always find something to do.” + +He got up from the bollard and, with a faint grunt, stooped and picked +up his broom. A voice from the next wharf told him to take care not to +overdo it. + +“That’s the new man next door,” said the night-watchman. “He’s feeling +lonely and ’e wants me to answer him back--and I shan’t. + +“I used to feel like it myself at fust; not that I ever gave any lip +to my olders and betters; but I used to feel I wanted somebody to talk +to. One time I let a painter chap come and paint ’ere. He used to +paint ships and things, and that lasted till one day he asked to be +allowed to paint my portrait. It took ’im three evenings. He showed it +to me when it was finished as if ’e was proud of it; and then ’e went +straight off ’ome, packing up his things as ’e went and talking about +sending for the police. + +“Arter that I ’ad a dog for company. Bull-terrier he was, and somebody +must ha’ paid a lot o’ money for ’im. I had ’im a couple o’ months, and +then the landlord of the ‘Albion’ offered me a couple o’ quid for ’im, +and while I was trying to raise him to two pun’ ten some low, dirty, +sneaking thief got ’im for nothing. There’s people about ’ere as would +steal your whiskers off your face if they wanted ’em. And if you went +to the police about it the fust thing they would ask is where you got +them from. + +“I ’ad another dog arter that, but ’e wasn’t wot you might call a +success. He bit three people in a fortnight, and then ’e bit me. The +last I see of him, he was trying to swim across the river with a brick. + +“A watchman is best all alone by ’imself. He can’t cheat ’imself at +cards, and any drink he pays for isn’t money wasted. I ’ad a little +lesson once about keeping myself to myself and it done me good. Though +I didn’t see it at the time. + +“It was just such an evening as this might be. I ’ad been hard at work +tidying up, and was just thinking of getting my ladder and lighting up, +when the wicket was pushed open sudden and a young feller ’opped in +follered by a gal. They shut it arter them very gentle and then stood +there talking in w’ispers and looking round at me. + +“‘’Ullo!’ I ses. ‘Wot’s all this about?’ + +“‘_Hsh!_’ ses the gal. ‘_Hsh!_’ + +“‘Wot d’you want?’ I ses, very loud, a-purpose. ‘Who asked you to come +on my wharf and _hsh_ me about?’ + +“Pretty little thing she was, about eighteen, with nice large blue eyes +and brown ’air. + +“‘We’re escaping,’ she ses, coming up and catching ’old of my arm. + +“‘Wot ’ave you been doing?’ I ses, trying to speak severe. + +“‘Nothing,’ she ses, shaking her ’ead. + +“‘Wot’s _he_ been doing, then?’ I ses. + +“‘Nothing that I’m ashamed of,’ ses the young feller. ‘I’m only walking +out with my young lady, that’s all.’ + +“‘Well, you can’t walk out with ’er on my wharf,’ I ses, rather sharp. +‘Is ’er father arter ’er or wot?’ + +“He stood there looking at me like a silly fool. A rather smallish +chap, dressed up to the nines, with a necktie like a rainbow in a fit. +If he’d been a gal I should ’ave called ’im rather good-looking, but ’e +was too pretty-pretty for a man. Twice he opened ’is mouth to speak, +and only gave a silly smile instead. + +“‘It ain’t ’er father,’ he ses at last, with a funny little laugh. + +“‘It’s the young man I used to walk out with afore I was old enough to +know my own mind,’ ses the gal, turning to me. ‘I never reely liked +’im. He’s always getting into fights; and now he says if ’e sees +Charlie with me he’ll knock ’is ’ead off and make ’im swaller it. I saw +’im behind us just now, and if your gate ’adn’t been open I don’t know +wot would ’ave happened.’ + +“‘But you ain’t afraid of ’im?’ I ses to the young man. + +“‘I ain’t afraid of any man,’ he ses, very upright. ‘But I don’t want +my ’ead knocked off. ’Ow would you like it yourself?’ + +“‘’Ow big is he?’ I ses. + +“‘About my size,’ ses Charlie, considering. + +“‘Well, you needn’t be afraid of a little shrimp like that,’ I ses. +‘Neither of you can’t hurt each other enough to signify. You get off +my wharf and, if he starts on you, knock ’im down. Give ’im one in the +bread-basket with your left, and when ’e bends over drive your right to +’is jaw.’ + +“‘And s’pose ’e don’t bend over?’ ses Charlie. + +“‘He wouldn’t,’ ses the gal. ‘Not if I know ’im. If Charlie did manage +to hit ’im in the--where you said, he’d ’arf kill ’im.’ + +“Charlie nodded and turned pale. He could turn pale all right, but +even the things I said to ’im couldn’t make ’im blush. She turned red +instead, and I caught one look from ’er blue eyes--when she didn’t +think I was looking--that fair startled me. + +“‘Well, I’ve give you good advice,’ I ses, ‘and if you don’t take it +you must leave it. If I was walking out with a gal like that I’d fight +a rigdiment of soldiers for ’er; one down and t’other come up.’ + +“She gave me a nice look then and I began to feel a bit sorry for ’er. +Gals can’t ’elp their feelings, when all is said and done. + +“‘I’ll just step outside and see if there is anybody ’anging about,’ I +ses; ‘if not, off you go.’ + +“I walked to the gate, but couldn’t see anybody. Then I strolled round +the corner, careless-like, with my ’ands in my pockets, and the fust +thing I see was a young feller walking up and down and looking all ways +at once, as the saying is. Nasty face he’d got; sharp eyes and a nose +that wasn’t, and big ugly teeth. + +“‘Lost anything?’ I ses as I passed. + +“‘Go an’ boil your face,’ he ses. + +“I didn’t answer ’im; I gave ’im a smile instead. Just the sort of +smile kind old ladies turn round and give to little children when they +pass ’em. Then I walked back slow to the wharf, and I ’ad just got one +leg inside the gate when a stone came along and caught me on the other. + +“Nasty smack it was, too, and if I could ha’ got hold of ’im I’d ha’ +tore ’im limb from limb. I went round the corner to look for ’im, but +o’ course he ’ad disappeared, and when I got back to the wharf Charlie +and the gal ’ad disappeared too. + +“I got my ladder and lit the lamps. It was dark by the time I ’ad +finished and ’ad a pipe in the office. I went out on the wharf again, +and arter a time I began to fancy things. I thought I ’eard little +rustlings and whisperings. Twice I stopped and listened and then +everything was as silent as the grave. Then I ’eard a little sneeze. + +“They was sitting on a box--a little box--be’ind a pile of empties in +the angle of the warehouse there, holding each other’s ’and. I spoke +to ’em sharp at fust, but the gal was so sorry when she ’eard about my +leg that I ’adn’t the ’art to say much. Quite upset she was, with ’er +little hanky up to ’er mouth and making funny little sobbing noises. + +“‘That’s a nice quiet little corner,’ ses Charlie, as I walked down to +the gate with ’em. ‘It might ha’ been made for us.’ + +“‘Only it wasn’t,’ I ses. + +“He leaned up against me, and at fust I thought ’e was trying to hold +_my_ ’and. Then I felt something ’ard put into it. I s’pose I was a +fool, but I remembered my own young days, and I stood there trying to +think wot I could do for ’em. + +“‘The corner won’t run away,’ I ses, ‘and so long as there’s no craft +alongside, or at any rate none of the hands about, I don’t know why you +shouldn’t go there for a breath of fresh air sometimes.’ + +“They both thanked me at once, and I could see wot a load it was off +Charlie’s mind to think as ’ow ’e could go on courting in comfort +and safety. The gal went off by ’erself, in case the other chap, Alf +Stevens, should be ’anging about, and arter I ’ad allowed Charlie to +stand me a pint in the ‘Bull’s Head,’ he went off too. + +“I didn’t see anything of ’em for the next two days, but on the third +evening there was a little tapping noise on the gate, and when I +opened the wicket the gal put ’er little ’ead in and smiled at me. + +“‘Can I come in?’ she ses. + +“‘Yes,’ I ses; ‘there’s nothing up to-night. You can ’ave the wharf all +to your two selves. Where is he?’ + +“‘He’s coming a roundabout way,’ she ses. ‘It’s safer.’ + +“I didn’t say nothing; arter all it was _’er_ young man, but I coughed. +I couldn’t ’elp it. And when she patted me on the back it made me cough +again. Nice little ’and she’d got, but ’arder than wot I expected. +Especially the second time. + +“I stood talking to ’er a little while arter she ’ad got into ’er +corner. Besides the other things, I ’ad moved three or four empty +barrels in front so as to make ’em quite private, and she couldn’t +thank me enough for it. She said it was evident I knew my way about, +and she wondered ’ow many ’arts I ’ad broke afore I settled down. I +told ’er of one or two, and just as she was shaking her ’ead at me and +asking me whether all men was like that, or only sailormen, the wharf +bell rang. + +“‘Oh, make ’aste,’ she ses; ‘it sounds as if ’e was in a ’urry.’ + +“I trotted off and unlocked the gate and Charlie a’most fell into my +arms. Pale as a ghost ’e was and shaking all over. Then I put my ’ead +outside and saw Alf Stevens. + +“He pulled up short as ’e see me, and we stood looking at each other; +me inside and ’im outside. Then ’e steps forward, as bold as brass, to +come on to the wharf. + +“‘Wot do you want?’ I ses, blocking the way. + +“‘I want to come inside,’ he ses, shoving ’is face close up to mine. ‘I +believe you’ve got my gal there.’ + +[Illustration: “‘I WANT TO COME INSIDE,’ HE SES, SHOVING ’IS FACE CLOSE +UP TO MINE. ‘I BELIEVE YOU’VE GOT MY GAL THERE.’”] + +“‘You run off ’ome and play,’ I ses. ‘I’ve ’ad enough o’ little boys +coming on to my wharf and stealing lumps o’ coke. Go off an’ ’ave a +little game of ’opscotch all by yourself.’ + +“I slammed the wicket just in time, and, judging by the noise ’is +fist made on it, I didn’t lose anything I wanted much. He must ’ave +pretty near broke ’is knuckles, and the langwidge ’e used about it was +shocking. When I called out and asked ’im whether he ’ad ever been to +Sunday School, it got worse. + +“‘You’ve done it now,’ ses Charlie, trembling. + +“‘Cheer up!’ I ses. ‘You’ve got the gal and you can’t expect to ’ave +everything. Even if he does set about you ’e can’t kill you, and if ’e +does he’ll be ’ung for it. I’ll see as ’ow he don’t escape.’ + +“I might ’ave saved my breath; and the gal was a’most as upset as ’e +was. Alf Stevens was still outside talking to ’imself, and when I +called out to ask whether he’d like a cough-lozenge they both caught +’old of me and asked me not to make ’im worse. + +“‘Think of poor Charlie,’ ses the gal. + +“They was both of ’em in such a state I didn’t like to leave ’em, so +I found a little box for myself and sat down to keep ’em company. I +told ’em some of the things wot ’ad happened to me while I was at sea; +’ow I’d nearly been shipwrecked three times, and ’ow on one ship we +was short-’anded cos ’arf the hands was below in their bunks through +fighting me. Then I made ’em feel the place on my ’ead where I’d been +hit with the leg of a chair, but nothing seemed to cheer ’em up, and +arter wasting about an hour of my time I got up and left ’em. + +“I done a bit o’ tidying up fust and then I went into the office and +’ad a look at the newspaper. By the time I’d done that it was getting +late, and I was just getting up to see ’ow Charlie and Maud was getting +on when I see them looking at me through the winder. + +“‘It’s time we was going,’ ses Charlie. + +“‘I’ll come and open the gate for yer,’ I ses, feeling in my pocket. + +“‘And wot about Alf?’ ses Charlie. + +“‘Well, wot about ’im?’ I ses. + +“‘Has ’e gorn?’ he ses. + +“‘Must ha’ done,’ I ses. ‘You’ll get Alf on the brain if you ain’t +careful. Besides, if ’e ain’t, he couldn’t ’urt you much to-night. +Think wot a smash he ’it that gate with ’is fist.’ + +“‘I don’t like to think of it,’ he ses, with a shiver; ’it might ’ave +been me.’ + +“‘Well, I’ll go and see if the coast is clear,’ I ses at last. + +“I crept on tiptoe to the gate and unlocked it without a sound. Then +I began opening it very gentle, and I ’ad just got it open about six +inches when Mister Alf rushed at it with ’is shoulder. + +“He got ’arf-way in and then ’e stuck. I stood agin it like a rock, and +then I began to shut it, very slow. Nine stone don’t stand much chance +agin fifteen, and swearing didn’t ’elp ’im. He was ’arf in and ’arf +out, and, after squeedging ’im for a little while I talked to ’im about +manners, I put my ’and on his chin and flung ’im into the road. + +“‘Now make a bolt for it,’ I ses to Charlie. ‘Quick! while you’re safe.’ + +“‘_Safe!_’ ses Charlie. ‘’Ark at ’im!’ + +“Alf was at it agin, and the thing wot ’e said ’e would do to me when +’e got ’old of me showed wot a nasty mind he’d got. I locked the gate +up, and then I stood for a minute wondering wot was to be done. + +“‘We can’t stay ’ere all night,’ ses Charlie, as we walked down the +wharf. + +“‘No, I’ll see to that,’ I ses. + +“‘If we don’t go soon she’ll get it from ’er father, and if we do go +I shall get it from Alf Stevens,’ he ses. ‘If you’d on’y pulled ’im +inside while you ’ad the chance and ’eld ’im we could ha’ got away all +right. You lost your presence o’ mind.’ + +“‘I’ll lose something else in a minute,’ I ses, as soon as I could +speak. ‘If you ’ad the pluck of a mouse you’d go out and fight ’im now.’ + +“‘Oh, don’t Charlie,’ ses the gal. + +“‘I won’t,’ he ses, ‘for your sake.’ + +“They walked up and down arter that with their arms round each other’s +waists. It was all ’is arm was fit for. I walked up and down too, and +while I was wondering ’ow to get rid of ’em I suddenly remembered that +one o’ the lightermen ’ad left ’is skiff tied up in the dock. I peeped +over to make sure he ’adn’t taken it away, and then I went to Charlie. + +“He paid up the five bob I asked ’im for neglecting my dooty, without +a murmur. I got into the boat fust, and the gal follered as if she’d +been used to ladders all ’er life. Then I ’ad to go up again ’cos +Charlie wanted somebody to ’old ’is ankles while ’e came down. + +“‘Wot are you going to do about meeting ’er now?’ I ses, as I started +pulling. + +“‘I don’t know,’ he ses, ’arf crying. + +“‘I’ve got an idea,’ I ses, arter thinking a bit, ‘but it ’ud cost you +money if it comes off.’ + +“‘I don’t mind that,’ ses Charlie, sitting up as if the Bank of England +belonged to ’im. ‘Wot is the idea?’ + +“‘Suppose Alf Stevens came round ’ere next Friday,’ I ses, very gentle, +‘and thought it was you, and it wasn’t.’ + +“Charlie didn’t answer at fust; then ’e asked me to say it all over +agin. + +“‘Suppose it was a young feller I know dressed up like you and sitting +be’ind the empties in the dark, pretending to make love to Maud,’ I +ses, ‘and Alf comes along and sets about ’im?’ + +“‘Who is ’e?’ ses Charlie staring. + +“‘He’s a young feller wot’s very much fancied by them as knows,’ I ses. +‘I see ’im boxing at ’Oxton one night, and ’e was in a class all by +’imself. Wonderful, it was.’ + +“‘Do you think ’e could beat Alf?’ ses the gal, clasping her ’ands. + +“‘Beat ’im?’ I ses. ‘I tell you this chap is a _boxer_. One of the best +at ’is weight I’ve ever seen. Alf Stevens would ’ave about as much +chance with ’im as a baby would with its nurse.’ + +“‘Sounds all right,’ ses Charlie, considering. ‘It’s time somebody +learnt ’im not to interfere where ’e ain’t wanted.’ + +“‘You be round on Friday night at seven,’ I ses. ‘I think I can get ’im +all right. P’r’aps you’d better come by boat, in case of accidents. +Bring ten bob in your pocket for Sid Groom--that’s ’is name--and five +for me for my trouble, and you’ll find it’s the best bargain you ever +made in your life.’ + +“I put ’em ashore at the stairs, and then rowed myself back to the +wharf. It was as quiet and peaceful as the grave; and though I crept up +to the gate and listened, I couldn’t ’ear nothing of Alf Stevens. + +“I went again in about an hour’s time and looked out. At fust I thought +he ’ad gorn, then I see something like a ’ead peeping round the corner. + +“‘Why don’t you go ’ome?’ I ses. ‘Charlie ses he’ll ’arf kill you if +you ain’t gorn in five minutes.’ + +“I thought that ’ud wake ’im up--and it did. ’Ow he could think o’ such +things was a puzzle to me. And ’e did’nt ’ave to stop to think, neither. + +“I believe ’e must ha’ stayed there pretty near all night. I know ’e +was there at two in the morning, ’cos of ’arf a brick as took a bit out +o’ the gate instead of me, by mistake, but ’e wasn’t there when the +’ands come on at six o’clock. + +“I didn’t see ’im on my way ’ome, though I was quite ready for ’im, and +stopped at every corner. I ’ad something to eat and a few hours in bed, +and then I went out to try and find Sid Groom. + +“He was out, as usual, and if I went into one pub I went into seven or +eight. A man with proper feelings can’t go into a pub without ’aving +something for the good of the ’ouse, and by the time I found Sid there +wasn’t much of Charlie’s five bob left. ’Arf an hour arterwards there +wasn’t any; and some of it wasted on ginger-beer. + +“Sid didn’t like the idea of it at fust, ’cos ’e didn’t like hitting a +man wot wasn’t a pro, but arter I ’ad talked to ’im about the ten bob +and Maud’s blue eyes ’e gave way. He was in training at the time for a +fight with a Bermondsey boy, and ’e said ’e might just as well punch +Alf Stevens for ’arf a quid as a punching-ball for nothing. + +“‘Mind,’ I ses, ‘we want ’im to think it’s Charlie, and if you keep +your back to the light and slip into ’im ’ard and quick, I don’t see +why ’e should know the difference.’ + +“‘Wot’s Charlie like?’ he ses. + +“I told ’im. + +“‘’Ow about slipping into ’im instead of the other bloke?’ he ses, +spitting on the floor. + +“‘I don’t think he’d pay you ten bob for that,’ I ses, shaking my ’ead +at ’im. ‘You’ll enjoy it all right once you start. And don’t forget to +put on a bowler-’at and a collar. And don’t speak.’ + +“He said something under ’is breath wot sounded like a little bit of +Alf Stevens, but I didn’t take no notice, and afore I left ’im ’e +promised faithful to come round and give Alf the surprise of ’is life. + +“I didn’t see Charlie that evening, but a dirty little boy came round +with a letter from ’im and I sent word back telling ’im Friday would be +all right. The only thing that worried me was that Alf Stevens mightn’t +be there, but as I see ’im prowling about soon after the boy ’ad gorn, +I ’adn’t got much fear. + +“Sid was the fust to turn up on Friday night. In fact, I sent ’im on +in front of me. Good-looking young feller ’e was, and in a bowler-’at +and a clean collar ’e looked nicer than I ’ad ever seen ’im. I stood +talking to ’im till the foreman ’ad gorn, and then we sat down on the +jetty and waited for the others. + +“They came along by boat just afore seven, and Charlie come up that +ladder as if it was a mile ’igh, and asking me to give ’im a ’and +when ’e got to the top. I interduced them in a ’urry--to stop Sid’s +mouth--and then I went to the gate and looked out just to make sure Alf +Stevens was there. + +“He was. I lit the lamps soon arterwards, all but the one near where +they was going to be, and then I sat down alongside Maud, and was just +going to show Sid ’ow to sit with his ’ead on ’er shoulder when she got +up. + +“‘I know ’ow to do it,’ ses Sid, pushing me away. ‘Just put them +barrels a bit closer.’ + +“‘Wot for?’ I ses. + +“‘’Cos I can do it better when there’s nobody looking,’ ’e ses. + +“‘Wot’s the good o’ doing it at all till Alf comes?’ ses Charlie +fidgeting. + +“Sid didn’t answer ’im. He ’elped move one or two of the barrels +’imself, and then we ’eard ’im tell Maud to come and sit down. + +“We stood there waiting for two or three minutes, and then Charlie, +arter fidgeting about agin for a bit, put his ’ead over and asked them +’ow they was getting on. + +“‘You mind your own bisness,’ ses Sid. + +“Charlie come back to me trembling all over. ‘You go and speak to ’im,’ +he ses at last. + +“I waited a little while, and then I ses, in a off-’and way: ‘Sid, I’m +going to let Alf Stevens in now. Be ready.’ + +“‘You let ’im in when I tell you, and not afore,’ ses Sid, very +sharp. ‘We ain’t ’arf done practising yet. I’m learning to be as much +like Charlie to ’er as possible, so as Alf Stevens won’t know the +difference. And it takes time.’ + +“I thought Charlie would ha’ fainted, and the things ’e said to me +about my cleverness you wouldn’t believe. If he ’ad only been as good +with ’is fist as ’is tongue he’d ’ave been all right. It might a’most +ha’ been my missis talking to me. + +“I ’eard Big Ben strike eight, and then I ’eard a little whistle from +Sid. + +“‘I think I know my piece now,’ he ses, when I went over. ‘Tell Charlie +to ’ide ’imself, and then open the gate.’ + +“I put Charlie round the far corner and told ’im not to move and not +even to put ’is ’ead round until they was busy, and then I walked up to +the gate. I made a little noise opening the wicket, and then I stepped +outside a yard or two and looked the wrong way, and a’most afore you +could say ‘knife’ Alf Stevens bolted in and ran on to the wharf. + +“‘’Ere!’ I ses, follering ’im up, ‘wot are you arter? Who told you to +come on my wharf?’ + +“He took no more notice of me than if I was a pet lamb. He stood +looking all round ’im with his ’ead bent down, and then there came the +sound of two or three of the loudest kisses I ever ’eard in my life. +Alf Stevens made a noise like a hyena wot wasn’t laughing, and the +next moment two of the barrels was rolled out o’ the way and ’e stood +looking at the two of ’em cuddling each other on the box. + +“‘Got--yer--at--last!’ he ses, grinding ’is teeth. + +“He bent over to push Sid away, but ’e ’ad got his ’ead buried in the +gal’s shoulder and was ’olding on to ’er as if ’e was frightened out of +’is life. + +“‘Stand up!’ ses Alf, pullin’ ’im by the collar--‘Stand up and take +wot’s comin’ to you.’ + +[Illustration: “‘STAND UP,’ SES ALF, PULLIN’ ’IM BY THE COLLAR--‘STAND +UP AND TAKE WOT’S COMIN’ TO YOU.’”] + +“Sid got up, stooping, with his ’at over ’is eyes, and the next moment +Alf was sitting on the ground wondering wot ’ad ’appened to ’im. +Then ’is memory come back to ’im and ’e got up and rushed at Sid like +a madman, but ’e might as well ’ave tried to ’it the moon. Sid was +dancing all round ’im, punching ’im all over the place, and every now +and then knocking ’im down for a change. + +“I must say Alf was game. He fought as long as ’e could stand, and +’e could ’ardly walk as I ’elped ’im off the wharf. He couldn’t see +properly neither, ’cos he thought I was somebody quite different and +asked me wot I ’ad done with my tail. + +“The others came along as I stood there watching Alf ’obble away. Maud +was ’anging on to Sid’s arm and looking up into ’is face, and Charlie +was follering up be’ind making noises like a lost kitten. + +“‘Didn’t want to pay me the ten bob,’ ses Sid to me. ‘He soon altered +’is mind, though.’ + +“‘He--he’s got my young lady,’ ses Charlie, ’arf crying, ‘and ten bob +too.’ + +“‘Never mind,’ I ses, patting ’im on the shoulder; ‘a gal like that +ain’t worth troubling about.’ + +“‘Wot’s that?’ ses Sid, shoving ’is face into mine. ‘Wot did you say?’ + +“‘I mean, ’e oughtn’t to trouble about any gal,’ I ses, very firm. ‘He +ought to get a little pet dog instead. A little dog as nobody else +wants.’ + +“Sid stood looking at me for a moment; then he put ’is arm round Maud’s +waist and they went off. Charlie and me stood watching them till they +was out of sight, and then ’e told me wot ’e thought about Sid. + +“I felt a bit sorry for ’im, but arter all bisness is bisness, and as +’e turned to go off I laid my ’and on ’is sleeve and gave a little +laugh. + +“‘Yes?’ he ses. + +“‘Ain’t you forgot something?’ I ses. + +“‘Not as I knows of,’ ’e ses, staring. + +“‘Wot about my five bob?’ I ses. + +“I think ’is trouble must ’ave turned ’is brain. He gave a squeal that +set my teeth on edge, and afore I could take my ’ands out o’ my pockets +he ’ad given me four or five bangs in the face as ’ard as ’e could hit. +Then ’e turned round quick and run for all ’e was worth.” + + + + +Taking Pains + + +Mr. Silvanus Key, changing his position in bed for the third time in +five minutes, lay on his back and groaned lamentably. + +“I, shall never be well,” he murmured faintly. “Forty-three, +good-looking, with the best moustache in the town, and done for.” + +“Has the pain come on again?” inquired his wife softly. + +“Not what you could call pain,” said Mr. Key. “There’s a red +hot corkscrew going through my left shoulder and a very capable +monkey-wrench trying to screw my knee-joints out. The only time I get +any rest is when it leaves off to spit on its hands. _O-ow! Ouch! O-o!_” + +Mrs. Key rose and, standing by the side of the bed, gazed at him +compassionately. + +“The doctor doesn’t seem to be doing you much good,” she murmured. + +“That’ll do,” said the sufferer sharply. “He is doing his best.” + +“So it seems,” said his wife dryly. “How you can imagine that stuff +out of a bottle can cure you, I can’t think. It’s the soul that wants +treating, not the body. You want to be bathed in a stream of healing +thought that would kill all those ideas of pain and----” + +“_Ideas!_” shouted Mr. Key. “You wait till you get rheumatism, and +neuritis, and gout, and sciatica, all mixed up together, and trying to +see which can be the worst. If that blessed Circle of Healers, as you +call it, was here I’d punch its head.” + +“Some of them are women,” said his wife. + +Mr. Key remarked that he supposed women possessed heads, some of them +at any rate, and, licking his lips, speculated on the good to be +achieved by knocking all the heads of the Circle together. + +“Shake their brains up and make ’em think,” he added. + +His wife sighed, and bestowed upon him a look of tender and elevating +love. + +“You are so wilful,” she murmured. “If you would only see Mr. Punshon; +no foolish and nasty drugs; no clumsy interference with that wonderful +combination of soul and body that we know as man. You are simply out of +tune with the infinite. _I_ am never ill.” + +“You wouldn’t talk like that if you were,” said Mr. Key. “You’d know +better.” + +He lay back with closed eyes and pondered gloomily. It was his first +real illness and, to an active man fond of rather more than his share +of the good things of this life, extremely distasteful. He opened his +eyes at a rather sharper twinge than usual and, in a few ill-chosen +words, expressed his opinion that members of the medical profession +were as useless as the Healers. + +“And we work for love,” said his wife, improving the occasion. + +Mr. Key closed his eyes again, and a faint and unseemly grin passed +furtively. + +“Miss Olsen is a healer, isn’t she?” he inquired. “The pretty one. +Perhaps I might----” + +“She is a neophyte,” said his wife coldly, “the same as myself.” + +“Nothing doing,” murmured the graceless Mr. Key. “Still, if she wants a +little practice----” + +Mrs. Key implored him not to make a jest of solemn things, and spoke +with some eloquence of the marvellous cures effected by Mr. Punshon. +Her husband pointed out, when she had finished, that she had omitted +the marvellous case of old Mr. Jackson, who, after being bedridden for +over three years, was able, owing to the healer’s ministrations, to +spend the evenings of his life at the Shakespeare Arms. + +[Illustration: THE MARVELLOUS CASE OF OLD MR. JACKSON, WHO, AFTER BEING +BEDRIDDEN FOR OVER THREE YEARS, WAS ABLE TO SPEND THE EVENINGS OF HIS +LIFE AT THE SHAKESPEARE ARMS] + +“It is easy to mock at things,” said Mrs. Key, bitterly. “Mr. Punshon +would cure him of that, but the artful old man won’t let him go near +him.” + +She went out of the room, and the invalid, after turning in the bed +with great care, lay gazing wistfully out of the window. There was +a cheerful hum from the street below, and he thought with great +bitterness of the happy people there who knew nothing of Uric Acid and +its liking for hot joints. A visit from the doctor next day depressed +him still more. + +“Another week or two?” he gasped. + +“You’re going on beau-ti-fully,” said the other, with an admiring but +thoughtless pat on Mr. Key’s left knee. “Sorry.” + +“Don’t mind me,” said the sufferer coldly. “Am I to go on taking that +beastly physic of yours?” + +The doctor nodded. “For some time,” he said grinning. “Shut your eyes +when you are taking it and tell yourself it is a vintage port. Smack +your lips over it.” + +Mr. Key closed his eyes and groaned. + +“And don’t be too sorry for yourself,” pursued the other. “You are not +nearly so bad as some of my poor patients. Not nearly.” + +Mr. Key, with a faint smile, said that he could quite believe it. +He also expressed his firm belief that their troubles would soon be +over--one way or another. + +“The last bottle,” said his medical attendant, breathing hard, “was not +strong enough. You are suffering from depression.” + +“You never see me at my best,” said the other; “the moment you come +into the room----” + +“Good-bye,” said the doctor briskly. + +He went downstairs and, meeting in the hall Mrs. Key, who had just +come in, announced in a loud voice that the patient was much better. A +louder voice from the sick-room denied all knowledge of the fact. + +For two days the patient had no reason to alter his opinion, but on the +third he confided to Mrs. Key, with a happy smile, that he certainly +felt much easier. + +“Since when?” inquired his wife, with a mysterious expression on her +face. + +Mr. Key pondered. “Yesterday afternoon I got the turn, I think. It’s +nothing to laugh at.” + +“I was not laughing, I was smiling,” said his wife. “With happiness,” +she added hastily. “But I’m not surprised. Mr. Punshon had a +half-holiday yesterday afternoon.” + +Mr. Key gazed at her blankly. + +“And instead of going out and enjoying himself stayed at home and gave +you ‘absent treatment.’” + +“Infernal impudence!” gasped the astonished invalid. +“I’ll--I’ll--Punshon----Oh, Lord! How many people have you told!” + +“He could do you much more good if he came into contact with you,” said +his wife timidly. + +“Fancy,” murmured the other brokenly, “that ginger-bearded +fraud--treating _me_! Poor Johnson pulls me round and Punshon steps +in and takes the credit. I shall be the laughing-stock of the town. +Everybody knows what I’ve said about him.” + +“You’ve said things--to me--about Dr. Johnson too,” said his wife. + +Mr. Key lay back and regarded her for some time, deep in thought. +“All right,” he said at last, in a ferocious voice, “have it your own +way. I’ll give him a run for his money. Punshon has put his hand to +the plough and he’d better finish the job. But mind, I shall take the +medicine.” + +His wife turned upon him a face that literally shone with happiness. +“It won’t make much difference,” she said. “Mr. Punshon’s force is much +too strong for drugs to interfere with it.” + +She brought the healer round the following afternoon, and Mr. Key, +gazing at the flabby, bearded face, with its pouched eyes and foolish +mouth, waited breathlessly for developments. + +“I hope it is not going to be painful,” he remarked. + +“We soothe,” said Mr. Punshon, in a deep voice marred by adenoids. + +He took a chair by the bed, and taking the patient’s hands in his +own, leaned forward and fixed upon him the healing glare of a pair of +pale and protuberant blue eyes. Mr. Key, closing his, bit his lips to +suppress a smile. + +For twenty minutes the silence was unbroken except for the odd noises +in Mr. Punshon’s air-passages. He released the patient’s hands and, +folding his arms, spoke with authority. + +“You feel better!” + +“I do,” said Mr. Key in reverent tones. “Waves of--something or +other--seemed to go right through me.” + +Mr. Punshon smiled and, taking out a handkerchief, wiped his brow. + +“You mustn’t expect to be well all at once,” he said, raising a warning +hand. “Evil is not destroyed in five minutes. I will come in and give +you further treatment to-morrow evening.” + +Mr. Key thanked him, and for some time after his departure lay smiling +seraphically at the ceiling. Under the combined treatment of Mr. +Punshon and Dr. Johnson he improved steadily, the wrath of the latter, +when he heard of his collaborator, doing the invalid, according to his +own account, more good than medicine. + +“I’ve done with you,” said the doctor, fuming. “It’s all over the town +that Punshon has cured you when I failed. What do you mean by it?” + +“I’m not cured yet,” said the invalid grimly. “Dear Brother Punshon has +got to do a lot more for me before he has finished. I have an idea that +I am going to be one of his most difficult cases.” + +“All this stuff about Christian Science----” began the doctor. + +“It’s nothing to do with Christian Science,” retorted the other. “It’s +a little special brand of Punshon’s own. He is far too conceited to +adopt anybody else’s ideas. He is charged with electricity--a living +magnet, that’s the idea, and, in a lesser degree, he thinks he is able +to magnetise his followers.” + +The doctor stood regarding him with a perplexed grin. + +“What is the game?” he inquired bluntly. + +“Game?” repeated Mr. Key loftily. “There is no ‘game.’ You don’t +understand. Magnetic healing is serious, most serious. So are the +healers. If they could see a joke they wouldn’t be healers. Punshon +couldn’t see a joke if I put it in front of his nose and burnt coloured +lights round it.” + +“You might try,” suggested the other. + +“Get thee behind me, Satan,” said Mr. Key severely. “Besides, I’m going +to. Meantime, you had better leave Punshon a free hand. I don’t want +you to get the credit of his cure. You don’t want it either. If you go, +and I have a relapse----” + +The doctor nodded. “Nobody could expect me to halve a patient with +Punshon,” he murmured. + +“Exactly,” said the other, “but you needn’t put it in quite such a +surgical way. It’s not nice. By the way----” + +“Well?” + +“What about one weak whisky-and-soda a day?” inquired Mr. Key in +persuasive accents. + +The doctor stood for a time considering. “Better ask Punshon,” he said +at last, and faded slowly from the room. + +A good man would have been moved by the tender gratitude displayed by +Mrs. Key when she learnt that her husband had abandoned drugs entirely, +in favour of spiritual treatment. The only effect on Mr. Key was to +confirm him in his iniquities. His spirits rose and the hue of health +returned to his cheeks. And he praised Mr. Punshon and his strange and +beneficent power until that gentleman nearly fell a victim to the sin +of pride. + +“Walk across the room,” he commanded. + +Mr. Key obeyed. + +“Your limbs are straight and supple,” chanted the healer; “your body is +strong; your soul is in command; you are healed.” + +“Thanks to you,” breathed the admiring Mrs. Key. + +“To-morrow you can go for a walk,” continued Mr. Punshon to his +patient. “My work is finished.” + +Both husband and wife were certain as to his exact words. In fact, the +excellent Mrs. Key repeated them to two or three friends the same day. +And yet, just before midnight, she sat up in the small bed she occupied +in the sick-room almost persuaded that she had heard a moan. Within the +next minute five full-grown moans, muffled by the bedclothes, issued +from the other bed. + +“Aren’t you well?” she inquired. + +“Well?” repeated Mr. Key, bringing his head up and suppressing moan +number six. “Yes, of course I am. Didn’t Mr. Punshon say I was?” + +In confirmation, he groaned three times and wound up with a faint +shriek. + +“What are you making that noise for then?” inquired his wife, not +unnaturally. + +Mr. Key made no reply. It was evident by his lamentations that +he wanted his breath for other purposes. His wife slipped on a +dressing-gown and, lighting a candle, crossed over to him. + +“What _is_ the matter?” she said in alarm. + +“Don’t mind me,” said the invalid, with a groan that made the ornaments +on the mantelpiece rattle. “Go to sleep.” + +His wife suppressed an obvious retort and stood regarding him anxiously. + +“_O-o-o-o!_” said Mr. Key. “_A-a-a-h!_” He wiped his brow with the +sleeve of his pyjamas and, uttering a faint sigh, was taken suddenly +with a series of noises in the throat highly reminiscent of Mr. Punshon. + +“I wish I could stop that,” he said fretfully. “I suppose it’s +Punshon’s influence. Perhaps I’m too receptive. _O-oh!_ my leg!” + +Mrs. Key eyed him wistfully. “Which one?” she inquired. + +“What the--what does that matter?” exclaimed the sufferer. “Now it’s my +shoulder. The _left_ one,” he added, bitterly. “Has Jane gone to bed?” + +“Long ago,” replied his wife, staring. + +“I can’t bear it,” gasped the sufferer, wildly. “You’ll have to tell +her to get up and run for the doctor.” + +Mrs. Key clasped her hands. “Oh, Silvanus!” she cried reproachfully. + +“I can’t help it,” muttered her husband. “I’d rather have Punshon, of +course, but I don’t like to disturb him. He could stop it. As soon as +he got his blessed paw--hands--on me, it would go.” + +“I’ll ask him to come round in the morning,” said Mrs. Key. + +“I can’t wait,” moaned the sufferer. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to ask +Jane to get up and go for the doctor. It isn’t far.” + +His wife hesitated. “If you are no better in ten minutes,” she said at +last, “I’ll go and ask Mr. Punshon to come.” + +Mr. Key protested, and for fully five minutes lay silent. At the end of +that time he gave a very fine representation of a soul in torment. + +“Better take Jane with you,” he said in a weak voice, as his wife began +to dress. + +“I can’t leave you in the house alone,” she murmured. “I’ll wake her up +and let her know I am going out. I shan’t be long.” + +She hurried upstairs, and a minute or two later he heard the front door +close. + +“Poor thing,” he murmured. “Poor thing. It’s an infernal shame; but +it’s all for her own good.” + +He sat up in bed yawning, every now and then releasing a groan for the +benefit of the listener upstairs. The time passed slowly, and a feeling +of drowsiness almost overcame him. He hoped fervently that Punshon was +as fond of sleep as he was. + +He awoke with a start and sat up in bed, listening. A continuous +knocking and ringing at the front door seemed to indicate that Mrs. +Key had forgotten to take the key with her. It also proved that Jane +could sleep as soundly at one in the morning as at seven-thirty. + +With an idea that every little helped he added a few whines to the +noise below, but in vain. The jangling of the bell was hideous, the +knocking incessant. Then he heard, in addition, the boots of a heavy +and possibly irritated man kicking the paint off his front door and +voices of advice and instruction from his neighbour’s bedroom window. +He had just come to the conclusion that the maid had passed away in her +sleep when he heard her door open and an apologetic whirlwind pass down +the stairs. + +Mr. Punshon entered the room in silence and, ignoring the faint smile +with which the sufferer endeavoured to greet him, took a chair by the +bedside and got to work with the air of a man who was going to crowd +half an hour’s work into a few minutes. Mr. Key sighed twice, and then +his face resolved itself into an expression of ineffable peace. + +“Magician!” he murmured. + +Mr. Punshon grunted and bestowed a smile of conscious power upon the +admiring Mrs. Key. + +“It’s wonderful,” continued the sufferer. “Wonderful! I wonder what +caused the relapse?” + +Mr. Punshon started. “You must have been thinking wrong,” he said +tartly. + +“I can’t remember doing so,” said Mr. Key in a diffident voice. “I have +only been congratulating myself upon having the good sense to take your +treatment. It has been a great joy to me. Great. I knew I was going to +get better when I put myself into your hands. Else I shouldn’t have +done so.” + +The unconscious Mr. Punshon smiled again. “Faith helps,” he admitted. +“How do you feel now?” + +Mr. Key looked into the red-rimmed, sleepy eyes peering into his, and +hesitated. + +“Almost free from pain,” he said, at length. “There’s just a tiny bit +troubling me in the left knee-cap.” + +The healer diverted his gaze to a knob in the bedclothes, and +concentrated upon it until the veins stood out on his forehead. An +unusual amount of gurgling and choking testified to his absorption. + +“Did I say ‘left’?” inquired Mr. Key, as the other wiped his brow. “How +stupid of me; I meant ‘right.’” + +He brought another knob into prominence and, patting it for Mr. +Punshon’s guidance, waited with calm confidence while the other +swallowed a gurgle that threatened to choke him. + +“I’m afraid Mr. Punshon is tired,” said Mrs. Key. + +“He never tires of good works,” said her husband, reproachfully. + +Mr. Punshon smiled wanly and, suppressing a yawn, continued his +ministrations. + +“I feel so selfish lying here snug and warm in bed and keeping you out +of yours,” said Mr. Key. “But perhaps you don’t care much for sleep.” + +“Eight hours,” said Mr. Punshon somewhat shortly. “Always. Any pain in +the knee now?” + +Mr. Key shook his head. “It’s gone,” he said in a hushed voice. + +Mr. Punshon leaned back with a sigh, a noisy sigh, of relief. + +“Into my left shoulder,” continued the invalid querulously. + +Mr. Punshon got up with great suddenness and stood glowering at him. +Mrs. Key, with her hands clasped, eyed them in silent dismay. + +“Please don’t trouble any more,” said Mr. Key gently. “I’m afraid it is +a difficult case. Too difficult, perhaps. I ought not to have bothered +you. I suppose Johnson would have pulled me round, in time.” + +He closed his eyes wearily and lay back listening in great content +to an excited whispering between his wife and the healer. Then he +heard the chair creak and felt a pair of clammy hands take his. For +some time the stertorous breathing of Mr. Punshon was the only sound +in the room. Then even that ceased and Mr. Key, opening his eyes to +ascertain the reason, discovered to his indignation that the healer had +gone. Daylight was coming in at the window, and it was only too clear +that his victim had taken advantage of the sleep into which Mr. Key +had fallen, to escape. A clock downstairs struck five. He groaned in +spirit, but soon coming to the conclusion that that was no good, gave +utterance to several fleshly ones. The other bed creaked. + +“Do you want anything?” inquired Mrs. Key sleepily. + +“Where’s Punshon?” demanded her husband in an aggrieved voice. + +“Why, he left hours ago,” said Mrs. Key, sitting up. “He put you into a +refreshing slumber and went.” + +“Fetch him back,” said the invalid, briefly. + +Mrs. Key’s cry of consternation left him unmoved. Mr. Punshon had taken +the case out of the doctor’s hands by giving absent treatment in the +first place, and, after that, had taken full charge. In a stern voice, +broken by pain and marred by snufflings, Mr. Key ordered him to be +fetched forthwith. + +“I can’t,” said his wife desperately. + +“Well, will you please go and ask him whether he has any objection to +my consulting Dr. Johnson?” + +Mrs. Key went--but only after a long argument--to return an hour later +with a ferocious and demoralised-looking Mr. Punshon, who, advancing +reluctantly to the foot of the bed, stood there gobbling. + +“Good of you!” murmured the invalid. + +Mr. Punshon took not the slightest notice. + +“I do hope this pain will soon go,” continued Mr. Key. “I don’t want to +fetch you out of your bed every night. I know you don’t mind, still----” + +Mr. Punshon stared at him and endeavoured--but in vain--to concentrate +his mind upon healing. + +“I suppose I can’t have that walk you spoke of, to-day,” said Mr. Key. +“It’s very disappointing. I was looking forward to it. I wanted to go +round and tell people what mental healing had done for me. Some of them +are so incredulous.” + +“You must have patience,” said the healer. “Fifty years of wrong +living----” + +“Forty-three,” murmured the invalid. “And I feel younger since you have +been treating me. It almost seems as though your healthy, virile spirit +has become part of myself. I feel different. A better man. I think +differently. I--I breathe differently. How is Mrs. Punshon?” + +“She is quite well, thank you,” said the healer with some surprise. + +Mr. Key half closed his eyes and a seraphic smile played around his +lips. “I dream of her,” he said softly. + +“_Dream!_ Dream of her? Dream of _my wife_?” stuttered the outraged +husband in tones that nearly drowned the exclamation of the startled +Mrs. Key. + +Mr. Key nodded. “Ever since you started treating me,” he replied. “It’s +very curious. I suppose your powerful mind has overcome mine and your +thoughts have become my thoughts. Have any of your other patients----?” + +“No, sir,” interrupted the other with violence. + +Mr. Key sighed. “It’s very curious,” he repeated. “I dreamt of her +three times last night. And there’s another funny thing; since this +treatment started I have had an almost irresistible craving for whisky. +Do you----” + +“I’m a life-long teetotaller,” said the glaring Mr. Punshon. + +He stood breathing noisily for a few seconds and then, with a violent +gesture, turned and walked towards the door. + +“Aren’t you going to give me treatment?” inquired Mr. Key in a +surprised voice. + +Mr. Punshon made no reply, but the slamming of the front door spoke +volumes. Mr. Key turned and eyed his wife. + +“He has given the case up,” he said, shaking his head. “After breakfast +you must send Jane round for the doctor. I can’t go on like this.” + +He saw the doctor a few hours later, and after a lengthy +explanation--with Mrs. Key holding a watching brief for the absent +Mr. Punshon--requested him to treat him for the old complaint plus +incipient adenoids, a nasty trick of biting his finger-nails, a +lamentable craving for whisky, and a few other matters. + +“I am sorry you spoke so freely,” said Mrs. Key after the doctor had +gone. “He might talk.” + +“That’s all right,” said her husband darkly. “He never repeats anything +his patients would mind.” + + + + +His Brother’s Keeper + + +I + +Anthony Keller, white and dazed, came stumbling out into the small hall +and closed the door of his study noiselessly behind him. Only half an +hour ago he had entered the room with Henry Martle, and now Martle +would never leave it again until he was carried out of it. + +He took out his watch and put it back again without looking at it. He +sank into a chair and, trying to still his quivering legs, strove to +think. The clock behind the closed door struck nine. He had ten hours; +ten hours before the woman who attended to his small house came to +start the next day’s work. + +Ten hours! His mind refused to act. There was so much to be done, so +much to be thought of. God! If only he could have the last ten minutes +over again and live it differently. If Martle only had not happened to +say that it was a sudden visit and that nobody knew of it. + +He went into the back room and, going to the sideboard, gulped down +half a tumbler of raw whisky. It seemed to him inconceivable that the +room should look the same. This pleasant room, with etchings on the +walls, and his book, face downwards, just as he had left it to answer +Martle’s knock. He could hear the knock now, and---- + +The empty tumbler smashed in his hand, and he caught his breath in a +sob. Somebody else was knocking. He stood for a moment quivering, and +then, wiping some of the blood from his hand, kicked the pieces of +glass aside and stood irresolute. The knocking came again, so loud and +insistent that for one horrible moment he fancied it might arouse the +thing in the next room. Then he walked to the door and opened it. A +short sturdy man, greeting him noisily, stepped into the hall. + +“Thought you were dead,” he said breezily. “Hallo!” + +“Cut myself with a broken glass,” said Keller, in a constrained voice. + +“Look here, that wants binding up,” said his friend. “Got a clean +handkerchief?” + +He moved towards the door, and was about to turn the handle when Keller +flung himself upon him and dragged him back. “Not there,” he said +thickly. “Not there.” + +“What the devil’s the matter?” inquired the visitor staring. + +Keller’s mouth worked. “Somebody in there. Come here.” + +He pushed him into the back room and in a dazed fashion motioned him to +a chair. + +“Thanks, rather not,” said the other stiffly. “I just came in to smoke +a pipe. I didn’t know you had visitors. Anyway, I shouldn’t eat them. +Good night.” + +Keller stood staring at him. His friend stared back, then suddenly his +eyes twinkled and he smiled roguishly. + +“What have you got in there?” he demanded, jerking his thumb towards +the study. + +Keller shrank back. “Nothing,” he stammered. “Nothing--no----” + +“Ho, ho!” said the other. “All right. Don’t worry. Mum’s the word. You +quiet ones are always the worst. Be good.” + +[Illustration: “HO, HO,” SAID THE OTHER. “ALL RIGHT--DON’T WORRY--MUM’S +THE WORD.”] + +He gave him a playful dig in the ribs and went out chuckling. Keller, +hardly breathing, watched him to the gate and, closing the door softly, +bolted it and returned to the back room. + +He steadied his nerves with some more whisky, and strove to steel +himself to the task before him. He had got to conquer his horror and +remorse, to overcome his dread of the thing in the next room, and +put it where no man should ever see it. He, Anthony Keller, a quiet, +ordinary citizen, had got to do this thing. + +The little clock in the next room struck ten. Nine hours left. +With a soft tread he went out at the back door and, unlocking the +bicycle-shed, peered in. Plenty of room. + +He left the door open and, returning to the house, went to the door +of the study. Twice he turned the handle--and softly closed the door +again. Suppose when he looked in at Martle, Martle should turn and look +at him? He turned the handle suddenly and threw the door open. + +Martle was quiet enough. Quiet and peaceful, and, perhaps, a little +pitiful. Keller’s fear passed, but envy took its place. Martle had got +the best of it after all. No horror-haunted life for him; no unavailing +despair and fear of the unknown. Keller, looking down at the white face +and battered head, thought of the years before himself. Or would it +be weeks? With a gasp he came back to the need for action, and taking +Martle by the shoulders drew him, with heels dragging and scraping, to +the shed. + +He locked the door and put the key in his pocket. Then he drew a bucket +of water from the scullery-tap and found some towels. His injured +hand was still bleeding, but he regarded it with a sort of cunning +satisfaction. It would account for much. + +It was a long job, but it was finished at last. He sat down and +thought, and then searched round and round the room for the overlooked +thing which might be his undoing. + +It was nearly midnight, and necessary, unless he wanted to attract +the attention of any passing constable, to extinguish or lower the +companionable lights. He turned them out swiftly, and, with trembling +haste, passed upstairs to his room. + +The thought of bed was impossible. He lowered the gas and, dropping +into a chair, sat down to wait for day. Erect in the chair, his hands +gripping the arms, he sat tense and listening. The quiet house was full +of faint sounds, odd creakings, and stealthy rustlings. Suppose the +suddenly released spirit of Martle was wandering around the house! + +He rose and paced up and down the room, pausing every now and then to +listen. He could have sworn that there was something fumbling blindly +at the other side of the door, and once, turning sharply, thought that +he saw the handle move. Sometimes sitting and sometimes walking, the +hours passed until in the distance a cock smelt the dawn, and a little +later the occasional note of a bird announced the approach of day. + + +II + +In the bright light of day his courage returned, and, dismissing all +else from his mind, he thought only of how to escape the consequences +of his crime. Inch by inch he examined the room and the hall. Then he +went into the garden, and, going round the shed, satisfied himself +that no crack or hole existed that might reveal his secret. He walked +the length of the garden and looked about him. The nearest house was +a hundred yards away, and the bottom of the garden screened by trees. +Near the angle of the fence he would dig a shallow trench and over it +pile up a rockery of bricks and stones and earth. Once started he could +take his time about it, and every day would make him more and more +secure. There was an air of solidity and permanency about a rockery +that nothing else could give. + +He was back in the house when the charwoman arrived, and in a few words +told her of his accident of the night before. “I cleaned up the--the +mess as well as I could,” he concluded. + +Mrs. Howe nodded. “I’ll have a go at it while you’re having your +breakfast,” she remarked. “Good job for you, sir, that you ain’t one o’ +them as faints at the sight of blood.” + +She brought coffee and bacon into the little back dining-room, and +Keller, as he sat drinking his coffee and trying to eat, heard her at +work in the study. He pushed away his plate at last, and filling a pipe +from which all flavour had departed sat smoking and thinking. + +He was interrupted by Mrs. Howe. She stood in the doorway with a +question which numbed his brain, and for a time arrested speech. + +“Eh?” he said at last. + +“Key of the bicycle-shed,” repeated the woman, staring at him. “You had +a couple o’ my dusters to clean your bicycle with.” + +Keller felt in his pockets, thinking, thinking. “H’mm!” he said at +last, “I’m afraid I’ve mislaid it. I’ll look for it presently.” + +Mrs. Howe nodded. “You do look bad,” she said, with an air of concern. +“P’r’aps you hurt yourself more than what you think.” + +Keller forced a smile and shook his head, sinking back in his chair as +she vanished, and trying to control his quivering limbs. + +For a long time he sat inert, listening dully to the movements of Mrs. +Howe as she bustled to and fro. He heard her washing the step at the +back door, and, after that, a rasping, grating noise to which at first +he paid but little heed. Then there was a faint, musical chinking as of +keys knocking together. _Keys!_ + +He sprang from his chair like a madman, and dashed to the door. Mrs. +Howe, with a bunch of odd keys tied on a string, had inserted one in +the lock of the bicycle-shed, and was striving to turn it. + +“Stop!” cried Keller, in a dreadful voice. “STOP!” + +He snatched the keys from her, and, flinging them from him, stood +mouthing dumbly at her. The fear in her eyes recalled him to his senses. + +“Spoil the lock,” he muttered, “spoil the lock. Sorry. I didn’t mean to +shout. No sleep all night. Neuralgia; ’fraid my nerves are wrong.” + +The woman’s face relaxed and her eyes softened. “I saw you weren’t +yourself as soon as I saw you this morning,” she exclaimed. + +She went back into the house, but he thought she eyed him curiously as +she passed. She resumed her work, but in a subdued fashion, and, two or +three times that morning meeting his eyes, nervously turned away her +own. He realised at last that he was behaving in an unusual fashion +altogether. In and out of the house, and, in the garden, never far +from the shed. + +By lunch-time he had regained control of himself. He opened a bottle +of beer, and, congratulating Mrs. Howe upon the grilling of the chops, +went on to speak of her husband and the search for work which had been +his only occupation since his marriage ten years before. Some of the +fear went out of the woman’s eyes--but not all, and it was with obvious +relief that she left the room. + +For some time after lunch Keller stayed in the dining-room, and that +in itself was unusual. Two or three times he got up and resolved, for +the sake of appearances, to take a short walk, but the shed held him. +He dare not leave it unguarded. With a great effort he summoned up +sufficient resolution to take him to the bottom of the garden and start +his gruesome task. + +He dug roughly, avoiding the shape which might have aroused comment +from any chance visitor. The ground was soft and, in spite of his +injured hand, he made good progress, breaking off at frequent intervals +to listen, or to move aside and obtain an unobstructed view of the shed. + +With a short break for tea he went on with his task until he was called +in to his simple meal at seven. The manual labour had done him good +and his appearance was almost normal. To Mrs. Howe he made a casual +reference to his afternoon’s work and questioned where to obtain the +best rock-plants. + +With her departure after she had cleared away, fear descended upon him +again. The house became uncanny and the shed a place of unspeakable +horror. Suppose his nerve failed and he found himself unable to open +it! For an hour he paced up and down in the long twilight, waiting for +the dark. + +It came at last, and fighting down his fears and nausea, he drew the +garden-barrow up to the shed, and took the key from his pocket. He +walked to the front gate, and looked up and down the silent road. Then +he came back and, inserting the key in the lock, opened the door, and, +in the light of an electric torch, stood looking down at what he had +placed there the night before. + +With his ears alert for the slightest sound, he took the inhabitant of +the shed by the shoulders, and, dragging it outside, strove to lift +it into the barrow. He succeeded at last, and, with the rigid body +balanced precariously and the dead face looking up into his, seized the +handles and slowly and silently took Martle to the place prepared for +him. + +He did not leave him for a long time. Not until the earth was piled +high above him in a circular mound and a score or two of bricks formed +the first beginnings of a rockery. Then he walked slowly up the garden, +and, after attending to the shed, locked it up and went indoors. + +The disposal of the body gave a certain measure of relief. He would +live, with time for repentance, and, perhaps, for forgetting. He washed +in the scullery, and then, fearing the shadows upstairs, drew the +heavy curtains in the dining-room to shut in the light and settled +himself in an easy chair. He drank until his senses were deadened; his +nerves quietened, his aching limbs relaxed, and he fell into a heavy +sleep. + + +III + +He awoke at six, and, staggering to his feet, drew back the curtains +and turned out the gas. Then he went upstairs, and after disarranging +his bed went to the bathroom. The cold water and a shave, together with +a change of linen, did him good. He opened doors and windows, and let +the clean sweet air blow through the house. The house which he must +continue to inhabit because he dare not leave it. Other people might +not share his taste for rockeries. + +To the watchful eye of Mrs. Howe he appeared to be almost himself +again. The key of the shed had turned up, and he smiled as he +presented her with her “precious dusters.” Then he rode off on his +bicycle to order slabs of stone and plants from the nearest nurseryman. + +He worked more and more leisurely as the days passed, and the rockery +grew larger and more solid. Every added stone and plant seemed to +increase his security. He ate well, and, to his surprise, slept well; +but every morning misery opened his eyes for him. + +The garden was no longer a place of quiet recreation; the house, which +was part of the legacy that had so delighted him only a year before, +was a prison in which he must serve a life-long sentence. He could +neither let it nor sell it; other people might alter the garden--and +dig. Since the fatal evening he had not looked at a newspaper for fear +of reading of Martle’s disappearance, and in all that time had not +spoken to a friend. + +Martle was very quiet. There were no shadows in the house, no furtive +noises, no dim shape pattering about the garden by night. Memory was +the only thing that assailed him; but it sufficed. + +Then the dream came. A dream confused and grotesque, as most dreams +are. He dreamt that he was standing by the rockery, in the twilight, +when he thought he saw one of the stones move. Other stones followed +suit. A big slab near the top came slithering down, and it was apparent +that the whole pile of earth and stone was being shaken by some +internal force. Something was trying to get out. Then he remembered +that he was buried there, and had no business to be standing outside. +He must get back. Martle had put him there, and for some reason which +he was quite unable to remember he was afraid of Martle. He procured +his tools and set to work. It was a long and tedious job and made more +difficult by the fact that he was not allowed to make a noise. He dug +and dug, but the grave had disappeared. Then suddenly something took +hold of him and held him down; down. He could neither move nor cry out. + +He awoke with a scream and for a minute or two lay trembling and +shaking. Thank God, it was only a dream. The room was full of sunlight, +and he could hear Mrs. Howe moving about downstairs. Life was good and +might yet hold something in store for him. + +He lay still for ten minutes, and was about to rise when he heard Mrs. +Howe running upstairs. Even before her sudden and heavy rapping on the +door he scented disaster. + +“Mr. Keller! Mr. Keller!” + +“Well?” he said heavily. + +“Your rockery!” gasped the charwoman. “Your beautiful rockery! All +gone!” + +“_Gone?_” shouted Keller, springing out of bed and snatching his +dressing-gown from the door. + +“Pulled all to pieces,” said Mrs. Howe, as he opened the door. “You +never see such a mess. All over the place, as if a madman had done it.” + +In a mechanical fashion he thrust his feet into slippers and went +downstairs. He hurried down the garden, and, waving the woman back, +stood looking at the ruin. Stones and earth were indeed all over the +place, but the spot that mattered was untouched. He stood gazing and +trembling. Who could have done it? Why was it done? + +He thought of his dream and the truth burst upon him. No need for +his aching back and limbs to remind him. No need to remember the +sleep-walking feats of his youth. He knew the culprit now. + +“Shall I go for the police?” inquired the voice of Mrs. Howe. + +Keller turned a stony face upon her. “No,” he said slowly. “I--I’ll +speak to them about it myself.” + +He took up the spade and began the task of reconstruction. He worked +for an hour, and then went in to dress and breakfast. For the rest of +the day he worked slowly and steadily, so that by evening most of the +damage had been repaired. Then he went indoors to face the long night. + +Sleep, man’s best friend, had become his unrelenting enemy. He made +himself coffee on the gas-stove and fought his drowsiness cup by cup. +He read and smoked and walked about the room. Bits of his dream, that +he had forgotten, came back to him and stayed with him. And ever at the +back of his mind was the certainty that he was doomed. + +There was only one hope left to him. He would go away for a time. +Far enough away to render a visit home in his sleep impossible. And +perhaps the change of scene would strengthen him and help his frayed +nerves. Afterwards it might be possible to let the house for a time +on condition that the garden was not interfered with. It was one risk +against another. + +He went down the garden as soon as it was light and completed his +work. Then he went indoors to breakfast and to announce his plans for +sudden departure to Mrs. Howe, his white and twitching face amply +corroborating his tale of neuralgia and want of sleep. + +“Things’ll be all right,” said the woman. “I’ll ask the police to keep +an eye on the house of a night. I did speak to one last night about +them brutes as destroyed the rockery. If they try it again they may get +a surprise.” + +Keller quivered but made no sign. He went upstairs and packed his bag, +and two hours later was in the train on his way to Exeter, where he +proposed to stay the night. After that, Cornwall, perhaps. + +He secured a room at an hotel and went for a stroll to pass the time +before dinner. How happy the people in the streets seemed to be, even +the poorest! All free and all sure of their freedom. They could eat +and sleep and enjoy the countless trivial things that make up life. Of +battle and murder and sudden death they had no thought. + +The light and bustle of the dining-room gave him a little comfort. +After his lonely nights it was good to know that there were people all +around him, that the house would be full of them whilst he slept. He +felt that he was beginning a fresh existence. In future he would live +amongst a crowd. + +It was late when he went upstairs, but he lay awake for a few minutes. +A faint sound or two reached him from downstairs, and the movements of +somebody in the next room gave him a comfortable feeling of security. +With a sigh of content he fell asleep. + +He was awakened by a knocking; a knocking which sounded just above +the head of his bed and died away almost before he had brushed the +sleep from his eyes. He looked around fearfully, and then, lighting +his candle, lay listening. The noise was not repeated. He had been +dreaming, but he could not remember the substance of his dream. It had +been unpleasant, but vague. More than unpleasant, terrifying. Somebody +had been shouting at him. _Shouting!_ + +He fell back with a groan. The faint hopes of the night before died +within him. _He_ had been shouting and the strange noise came from +the occupant of the next room. What had he said? and what had his +neighbour heard? + +He slept no more. From somewhere below he heard a clock toll the hours, +and, tossing in his bed, wondered how many more remained to him. + +Day came at last and he descended to breakfast. The hour was early +and only two other tables were occupied, from one of which, between +mouthfuls, a bluff-looking, elderly man eyed him curiously. He caught +Keller’s eye at last and spoke. + +“Better?” he inquired. + +Keller tried to force his quivering lips to a smile. + +“Stood it as long as I could,” said the other; “then I knocked. I +thought perhaps you were delirious. Same words over and over again; +sounded like ‘Mockery’ and ‘Mortal,’ ‘Mockery’ and ‘Mortal.’ You must +have used them a hundred times.” + +Keller finished his coffee, and, lighting a cigarette, went and sat in +the lounge. He had made his bid for freedom and failed. He looked up +the times of the trains to town and rang for his bill. + + +IV + +He was back in the silent house, upon which, in the fading light of +the summer evening, a great stillness seemed to have descended. The +atmosphere of horror had gone and left only a sense of abiding peace. +All fear had left him, and pain and remorse had gone with it. Serene +and tranquil he went into the fatal room, and, opening the window, sat +by it, watching the succession of shadowy tableaux that had been his +life. Some of it good and some of it bad, but most of it neither good +nor bad. A very ordinary life until fate had linked it for all time +with that of Martle’s. He was a living man bound to a corpse with bonds +that could never be severed. + +It grew dark and he lit the gas and took a volume of poems from the +shelves. Never before had he read with such insight and appreciation. +In some odd fashion all his senses seemed to have been sharpened and +refined. + +He read for an hour, and then, replacing the book, went slowly +upstairs. For a long time he lay in bed thinking and trying to analyse +the calm and indifference which had overtaken him and, with the problem +still unsolved, fell asleep. + +For a time he dreamt, but of pleasant, happy things. He seemed to be +filled with a greater content than he had ever known before, a content +which did not leave him even when these dreams faded and he found +himself back in the old one. + +This time, however, it was different. He was still digging, but not in +a state of frenzy and horror. He dug because something told him it was +his duty to dig, and only by digging could he make reparation. And it +was a matter of no surprise to him that Martle stood close by looking +on. Not that Martle he had known, nor a bloody and decaying Martle, but +one of grave and noble aspect. And there was a look of understanding +on his face that nearly made Keller weep. + +He went on digging with a sense of companionship such as he had never +known before. Then suddenly, without warning, the sun blazed out of the +darkness and struck him full in the face. The light was unbearable, and +with a wild cry he dropped his spade and clapped his hands over his +eyes. The light went, and a voice spoke to him out of the darkness. + +He opened his eyes on a dim figure standing a yard or two away. + +“Hope I didn’t frighten you, sir,” said the voice. “I called to you +once or twice and then I guessed you were doing this in your sleep.” + +“In my sleep,” repeated Keller. “Yes.” + +“And a pretty mess you’ve made of it,” said the constable, with a +genial chuckle. “Lord! to think of you working at it every day and then +pulling it down every night. Shouted at you I did, but you wouldn’t +wake.” + +He turned on the flashlight that had dazzled Keller, and surveyed the +ruins. Keller stood by, motionless--and waiting. + +“Looks like an earthquake,” muttered the constable. He paused, and kept +the light directed upon one spot. Then he stooped down and scratched +away the earth with his fingers, and tugged. He stood up suddenly and +turned the light on Keller, while with the other he fumbled in his +pocket. He spoke in a voice cold and official. + +“Are you coming quietly?” he asked. + +Keller stepped towards him with both hands outstretched. + +“I am coming quietly,” he said, in a low voice. “Thank God!” + + + + +Trust Money + + +The night-watchman set his lips and shook his head. + +“You can’t learn people,” he said firmly; “it ain’t to be done. They +all know better than wot you do, and the more iggernerant they are the +more they are satisfied with themselves. I once wasted a whole morning +telling my missus ’ow to make a steak-pudding, and arter it was done we +’ad to give it to the people next door. She’s never forgot it, and to +hear ’er talk--if you didn’t know ’er--you’d think it was my fault. The +way she twists things round would surprise anybody as wasn’t married.” + +He gazed meditatively at a passing tug with its string of barges, and +shook his head again before continuing: + +“Even experience don’t learn people. One chap I know used to save +’is money in a little tin money-box. He ’ad ’arf a ounce o’ baccy a +week and no beer. The box was so full o’ sixpences he was thinking of +getting another, when his wife’s brother lost ’is job and didn’t get +another till the box was empty. + +“You’d ha’ thought that would ’ave learned ’im a lesson, but it +didn’t, and he’d pretty near got another box full when ’is wife ’ad +the artfulness to break her leg and ’ad to go to the seaside for a +fortnight to get well. He’s saving up agin now for wot ’e calls a rainy +day. He’ll get it all right, and somebody else’ll get the money. + +“Sailormen never learn anything. If they did they wouldn’t be +sailormen. They’re like children that never grow up. It don’t matter +where they go ashore with their money, they always go back aboard agin +without it. + +“I remember one time when old Sam Small was ashore with Peter Russet +and Ginger Dick ’aving wot they called a rest; their idea of a rest +being spending ’arf the day in bed and the other ’arf leaning up agin +the bar of a public-’ouse telling fairy-tales to the barmaid. They was +like three twins for the fust few days, and then Sam wouldn’t ’ave +nothing more to do with ’em owing to them telling the barmaid at the +‘Turk’s Head’--a very nice gal with yeller ’air and black eyes--that he +’ad got a wife and thirteen children at Melbourne. + +“He walked ’ome in front of ’em as if they wasn’t there, and when ’e +shut the front door he seemed to ’ave the same idea. Ginger noticed +it most--being just behind ’im. They ’ad words about it when they got +upstairs, and Sam told ’em plain that he never wanted to see their +faces agin; not even if they washed ’em. + +“He purtended to be asleep while they was dressing next morning. His +eyes was screwed up tight, and it didn’t seem as if anything could open +’em, till Ginger said ’e thought he ’ad passed away in ’is sleep and +asked Peter to get a pin and make sure. Sam woke up then, and, arter he +’ad finished speaking, Ginger and Peter said they never wanted to see +_his_ face agin. + +“They went off by theirselves, and arter a time Sam got up and went off +by ’imself. He didn’t see anything of Peter or Ginger at all that day, +but from wot the barmaid ’ad to say about ’is grandchildren ’e found +they ’ad spent a lot o’ time drinking beer and telling more lies at the +‘Turk’s Head.’ + +“He sat up in bed and spoke to ’em about it when they came in that +night, but they wouldn’t listen to ’im. They said that ’is troubles +didn’t concern them and they’d be thankful if he’d take ’em somewhere +else. + +“‘We’ve done with you,’ ses Ginger. + +“‘For ever,’ ses Peter. ‘And my advice to you, Sam, is to leave off +afore you bursts a blood-vessel. Anybody might think the ’ouse was on +fire.’ + +“Sam didn’t speak to them at all arter that and they didn’t speak to +’im, but they ’ad a great deal to say about ’im to each other when ’e +was in the room. It was wot Ginger called a nasty subjeck, but they +never seemed to get tired of it. + +“Sam ’ad made up ’is mind to leave ’em and go off on his own, and then +’e came ’ome one night so full of excitement ’e forgot all about it. +He came into the room like a schoolboy and gave ’em such a nice smile +they thought he ’ad lost ’is reason. Then he done a little dance all by +’imself in the middle of the room and sat down on ’is bed and laughed. + +“‘I’ve come into a forchin,’ he ses to Peter as the two of ’em stood +staring at ’im. ‘Leastways, I shall to-morrer night.’ + +“Ginger coughed. But not a disagreeable cough, mind you. + +“‘Come into a forchin?’ he ses. ‘’Ow?’ + +“Old Sam didn’t seem to hear ’im. He sat on his bed all rosy with +smiles and looking straight at the chest o’ drawers as though ’e saw a +pile of gold on top of it. + +“‘And I owe it all to you and Peter, Ginger,’ he ses, bending down to +undo ’is boots. ‘If you ’adn’t been misbe’aved, and carrying on like +a couple of bald-faced monkeys purtending to be men, I shouldn’t ’ave +gone off on my own, and if I ’adn’t ha’ gone off on my own I shouldn’t +’ave met ’em.’ + +“‘Met who?’ ses Ginger, who was too excited to take any notice of wot +he ’ad said about monkeys. + +“‘Two o’ the best,’ ses Sam; ‘two gentlemen whose on’y objeck in life +is to do good to their fellow-creechers. They told me so theirselves.’ + +“‘Did you stand ’em drinks?’ ses Peter, catching Ginger’s eye. + +“‘You’ve got a low mind, Peter,’ ses Sam, shaking his ’ead; ‘you ought +to be more careful who you go about with. I’ve ’ad six drinks to-night, +or maybe more, and I didn’t pay for one of ’em. They wouldn’t let me.’ + +“‘You don’t always try very ’ard,’ ses Peter, who was beginning to lose +his temper. + +“‘Wot ’ave they got to do with your forchin?’ ses Ginger. + +“‘It’s coming through them,’ ses Sam, ‘and if you and Peter was +diff’rent, if you was on’y ’arf men instead of--of being wot you are, +I would get forchins for you too. There’s plenty more where mine’s +coming from.’ + +“‘Where’s that?’ ses Ginger, trying to speak off-hand. + +“Sam turned deaf agin, and was just going to get into bed when Ginger +stopped ’im gentle-like and turning down the bed-clo’es took out a +’air-brush, an old horse-shoe, a lump o’ soap, and a few other things +wot ’im and Peter ’ad put there. + +“‘The ’orse-shoe was for luck, Sam,’ he ses, with a smile. ‘P’r’aps +it’s through that you got your forchin.’ + +“Sam looked at ’im as if he was looking at a dust-bin with a bad smell, +and then without a word he got into bed and, putting his ’ead on the +piller, shut ’is eyes and went straight off to sleep. Ginger woke up +the next morning dreaming that the ’ouse was on fire. The room was full +o’ smoke, but the moment ’e got ’is eyes open he saw that it was made +by Sam, who was sitting up in bed smoking an enormous cigar with a +red-and-gold band stuck on it. He purtended not to see that Ginger was +looking at ’im, and the airs and graces he see fit to give ’imself with +that cigar nearly made Ginger choke. Peter Russet woke up then, and +arter he ’ad sniffed and sniffed as if ’e couldn’t believe his nose, ’e +asked Sam in a nasty voice where he ’ad pinched it from. + +“‘It was give to me by one o’ the gentlemen I was speaking of,’ ses +Sam, knocking the ash off down ’is neck by mistake. ‘He’s got a gold +case full of ’em.’ + +“‘Gold case?’ ses Ginger. + +“‘With diamonds on it,’ ses Sam. ‘He said ’e would ’ave liked to give +it to me, on’y it was a birthday present from ’is little boy wot died +of whooping-cough.’ + +“Ginger scratched his ’ead, and ’e kept on scratching it till Sam said +as ’ow it was vulgar, and asked ’im to go out of the room to do it. + +“‘But who are they?’ ses Peter Russet, arter Ginger ’ad quieted down a +bit. + +“‘Two gentlemen,’ ses Sam; ‘two gentlemen wot knows another gentleman +when they sees ’im.’ + +“He laid down on ’is back and blew smoke up to the ceiling, until +Ginger and Peter sat down on Ginger’s bed and tried to swaller their +pride and ask him to tell ’em all about it. Ginger tried fust, but he +’adn’t swallered enough, and when Sam sat up in bed and told ’im part +of wot he thought of ’im, Peter took his side and said that if Ginger +’ad on’y been born without a mouth it ’ud be much better for ’imself +and everybody else. He gave Ginger a poke in the ribs with ’is elbow +to keep ’im quiet, and said that if anybody deserved to ’ave a forchin +given ’im it was Sam Small. + +“‘One o’ the best,’ he ses, giving Ginger another poke with ’is elbow. + +“‘We all ’ave our faults, Peter,’ ses Sam, with a kind smile, ‘else we +should all be angels.’ + +“‘There ain’t no fat angels,’ ses Ginger, pushing Peter’s elbow away. +‘They wouldn’t look nice. All the angels I’ve seen in pikchers ’ave got +beautiful figgers.’ + +“Peter gave it up then, and arter telling Ginger in a whisper wot a +fool ’e was, he picked up ’is trousers off of the floor and began to +dress. Neither of ’em took any more notice o’ Sam, and arter laying +still for a time watching ’em wash and telling Ginger that the soap +wouldn’t bite ’im he began talking to ’em of ’is own free will. + +“He told ’em of a nice, comfortable little pub in a turning off +the Mile End Road wot he ’ad found on the evening before. A +little pub--clean as a new pin, and as quiet and respectable as a +front-parlour. Everybody calling the landlady ‘Ma,’ and the landlady +calling most of ’em by their Christian names and asking arter their +families. There was two poll parrots in cages, with not a bad word +between ’em--except once when a man played the cornet outside--and a +canary that almost sang its little ’art out. + +“‘Wot about the two gentlemen that took a fancy to you?’ ses Ginger. + +“Sam looked at ’im for a moment as if he was surprised at ’im speaking +to ’im. + +“‘There was on’y one at fust,’ he ses at last, very slow, ‘a thin +gentleman with a little black moustache, a beautiful white collar, and +a silk necktie with a gold pin in it. He was drinking port wine when I +went in, and arter looking me up and down, just for a moment, ’e asked +me to ’ave one with ’im.’ + +“‘Wot for?’ ses Ginger. + +“‘He told me arterwards,’ ses Sam. ‘He said as ’ow I was the living +image of a cousin of ’is wot ’ad lost his life at sea--saving others. +He said at fust he thought I was ’is ghost. There was on’y me and ’im +in that bar, and the tears came into his eyes when ’e spoke of ’im.’ + +“‘But wot about the forchin, Sam?’ ses Ginger, arter waiting a bit. +‘Wot’s the ugly cousin got to do with it?’ + +“Sam sat up in bed and looked at ’im. Then ’e snapped his lips tight as +if ’e was never going to open ’em agin and laid back on the piller. + +“‘Go on, Sam, old man,’ ses Peter Russet; ‘if Ginger had ’arf your +looks ’e wouldn’t be so bad-tempered. He’s got a jealous dispersition. +You was just telling up about ’ow the tears came into ’is eyes.’ + +“‘We ’ad a long talk,’ ses Sam, arter looking very ’ard at Ginger, ’and +arter standing me another glass o’ port wine ’e began to tell me all +about ’is troubles. He ’ad got hard up through ’elping a friend, and ’e +didn’t know where to turn for money. He went into that little pub with +fourpence ha’penny in ’is pocket and went out with five ’undred pounds.’ + +“‘’Ow?’ ses Peter and Ginger, both speaking at the same time. + +“‘While ’e was ’aving a fit of the miserables in there and wondering +wot ’e was going to do,’ ses Sam, in a solemn voice, ‘the door opened +and a gentleman came in. A gentleman wot goes about looking for +feller-creechers to do good to. That was ’ow the gentleman as was +standing me port wine got ’is five ’undred pounds.’ + +“‘Did you see it?’ ses Ginger, in a nasty voice. + +“‘I see more than that, Ginger,’ ses Sam, speaking very low; ‘I see +enough money last night to make the three of us gentlemen for life. And +Mr. Cooper--that’s the gentleman wot ’as it--goes about giving it away. +He gave the other gentleman, Mr. Jackson by name, five ’undred pounds +for trusting ’im. He got talking to ’im and told ’im that a friend of +’is had left ’im a forchin, and as he was a rich man and didn’t want it +’e was giving it away. But on’y to people that deserved it, mind yer. +And ’e said that the people ’e could trust was them as trusted others.’ + +“‘I can’t make ’ead or tail of it,’ ses Ginger. + +“‘He took a good ’ard look at Mr. Jackson,’ ses Sam, ’and then ’e put +a thousand pounds into his ’and and told ’im to go for a walk with it +while ’e waited for ’im in the pub. When Mr. Jackson came back he +asked ’im whether _he_ could trust _’im_, and Mr. Jackson, not ’aving +any money, trusted ’im with ’is gold watch and chain, two rings, and a +tie-pin. When ’e came back he patted ’im on the back and gave ’im five +’undred pounds. Mr. Jackson said ’e cried like a child.’ + +“‘’Cos he ’adn’t gone off with the thousand pounds, d’ye mean?’ ses +Ginger staring. + +“‘While he was telling me this,’ ses Sam to Peter Russet, ‘who should +come in but Mr. Cooper ’imself--a short, fat gentleman with blue eyes +like a innercent child’s and one o’ the kindest faces I ever see. It +done me good to look at ’im. He was a bit stand-offish at fust, but +arter a time we was all ’aving drinks together like brothers. And then +Mr. Jackson took ’im a bit to one side and whispered to ’im, and I +could see plain that ’e was talking about me.’ + +[Illustration: “AND THEN MR. JACKSON TOOK ’IM A BIT TO ONE SIDE AND +WHISPERED TO ’IM, AND I COULD SEE PLAIN THAT ’E WAS TALKING ABOUT ME.”] + +“‘Cut it short,’ ses Ginger, fidgeting. + +“‘I ain’t talking to you,’ ses Sam. ‘Ten minutes arterwards _I_ was +going for a walk with a thousand pounds in my pocket in banknotes, +_and_ the gold cigar-case. I couldn’t trust ’im when I came back as +I ’ad on’y got four bob in my pocket, but to-night I’m going to meet +’im agin and trust ’im with all I’ve got. And Mr. Jackson told me ’e +wouldn’t be surprised if I got a thousand pounds. He said Mr. Cooper +told ’im that he ’ad took a partikler fancy to me.’ + +“I can’t make ’ead or tail of it,’ ses Ginger, ‘but mark my words, Sam, +there’s a catch in it somewhere. Nobody ’ud take a fancy to you unless +they was going to get something out of it.’ + +“Sam didn’t take no notice of ’im. He got up and dressed ’imself, and +when they asked ’im wot he was going to do till evening, he told ’em +that was ’is business. Peter Russet and Ginger spent the day together, +both of ’em wondering, if Sam did get a forchin, whether they couldn’t +get one the same way. At last, arter they had ’ad a few pints apiece, +they made up their minds to hang about till Sam came ’ome and then +follow ’im, unbeknownst, to the pub. + +“They didn’t wait for ’im in their room ’cos they thought ’e might +tumble to it, and he was so late turning up that they began to think ’e +wasn’t coming ’ome fust arter all. Then about ha’-past six they see ’im +come round the corner and go straight into the ’ouse. + +“It seemed ages afore he came out agin, and when ’e did they see that +he ’ad got ’is best clo’es on and a new cap. They let ’im get a good +start, and then follered in a drizzling rain which made the Minories +and Whitechapel full of umbrellas that kept getting in between them and +Sam, especially one that nearly put Ginger’s eye out. It wasn’t till +he ’ad turned into a quiet street off the Mile End Road that they felt +sure of ’im. + +“They follered, very careful, and then at last they saw ’im stop at +the door of a quiet little pub at the corner of a dark little street. +There wasn’t a soul about, and, arter stopping a moment to pull ’is cap +straight, Sam pushed opened the door and stepped inside. Ginger and +Peter, arter pinching each other’s arms in their excitement, stood in a +doorway a little way off and waited. + +“‘I s’pose he’s drinking glasses and glasses o’ port wine while we’re +out ’ere in the wet,’ ses Ginger, arter about ten minutes. + +“‘Why don’t they make ’aste?’ ses Peter Russet. ‘I believe there’s a +catch in it somewhere.’ + +“‘_H’sh!_’ ses Ginger, all of a sudden. + +“They drew back into the doorway and just poked their ’eads out as they +saw the pub door open and a man come out. He stood a moment waving his +’and to Sam, who they could see standing near the bar, and then walked +off slow down the road. + +“‘Come on,’ ses Ginger. ‘Let’s see where he goes.’ + +“They followed as quiet as they could, and then all at once they found +themselves going quicker and quicker to keep up with ’im. Twice ’e went +round corners, and when they got round they found ’e was ever so far +in front. + +“‘He’s been running,’ ses Ginger. ‘Come on! He’s going off with Sam’s +money!’ + +“He started running as ’ard as he could, with Peter just be’ind, and +the man in front, wot ’ad begun to run ’imself, left off--and began to +walk agin. + +“‘Wot d’ye want?’ he ses, as Ginger caught ’old of ’im, and afore +Ginger could answer ’im he gave ’im a fearful bang in the face and a +kick in the leg that pretty near broke it. + +“Ginger gave two grunts, one for the smack in the face and the other +for the kick, and then ’e sailed in at ’im like a madman, and knocked +’im all over the place. His last punch got ’im fair on the chin, and ’e +went down in the gutter like a lamb that ’as been pole-axed, and hit +’is ’ead on the kerb. + +“‘You’ve killed ’im,’ ses Peter, staring. + +“‘Good job, too,’ ses Ginger, thinking of ’is pore leg. ‘Come on, let’s +get Sam’s money back.’ + +[Illustration: “‘YOU’VE KILLED ’IM,’ SES PETER, STARING. ‘GOOD JOB, +TOO,’ SES GINGER, THINKING OF ’IS PORE LEG. ‘COME ON, LET’S GET SAM’S +MONEY BACK.’”] + +“Peter looked be’ind ’im, and then, seeing there was nobody about, +’elped Ginger to empty the chap’s pockets. In less than a minute they +’ad picked ’im as clean as a bone and was hurrying off, Peter ’olding a +watch and chain in his ’and and Ginger stuffing things into ’is pockets +and saying that it wasn’t robbing to rob a thief. Especially a thief +wot kicked. + +“They lost their way for a bit, but Ginger didn’t mind. He said the +more they got lost the ’arder it would be for anybody to find ’em, but +they got ’ome at last and, arter shutting the bedroom door careful, +emptied out their pockets on to the bed and stood staring at each other. + +“‘_We’ve_ got the forchin, Peter,’ ses Ginger. ‘Count it agin to make +sure.’ + +“‘Twenty-seven pounds fourteen shillings and threepence,’ ses Peter, +‘two watches and chains--that one is Sam’s----’ + +“‘One clasp knife,’ ses Ginger, ‘a bit o’ lead-pencil, a gold +cigar-case made o’ something else, and a bundle of imitation banknotes. +That’s wot ’e trusted Sam with, I expect, Peter.’ + +“‘I wonder ’ow much of the twenty-seven pounds is Sam’s?’ ses Peter +Russet. + +“‘I forgot that,’ ses Ginger. ‘He ought to pay something for that kick +on the leg I got, though.’ + +“Peter Russet, wot ’ad seen the leg, nodded. ‘I wouldn’t ’ave ’ad that +kick for ten pounds,’ he ses, in a kind voice. ‘If you ’ave to lose +your leg, Ginger, I wouldn’t have ’ad it for fifty.’ + +“Ginger ’ad another look at his leg, and then, to prevent losing it, +’e bathed it with a little cold water and put a bit o’ butter on it. +Arter which they went out as far as the Town of Ramsgate public-’ouse +to drink each other’s ’ealths. + +“It took ’em a long time, both of ’em being very pleased with each +other, but at last, after the landlord ’ad been holding the door open +for ’em till ’is jaws ached, they went back ’ome. They both of ’em +thought it was earlier than wot it was, so they was quite surprised +when they found Sam ’ad got ’ome before them and gone to bed. + +“‘Did--did you get the forchin, Sam?’ ses Ginger, going over to the +wash-stand and sousing ’is face with cold water. + +“Sam gave a smile that made ’im look as if he was ’aving a fit. + +“‘No, Ginger,’ he ses, very soft. ‘I remembered your advice, old pal.’ + +“‘Advice?’ ses Ginger, staring. + +“‘You said as ’ow there might be a catch in it,’ ses Sam, ’and knowing +wot a clever ’ead-piece you’ve got, Ginger, I thought it over and made +up my mind not to trust ’im.’ + +“Peter Russet made a noise that an elephant with the hiccups might ha’ +been proud of, and then Ginger went over and led ’im across to the +wash-stand. + +“‘You ’old your noise,’ he ses, pushing Peter’s face into the water. +‘You didn’t lose your money arter all, then?’ he ses, turning to Sam. + +“‘No,’ ses Sam. ‘At least, not that way, but arter I left the pub to +come ’ome and see you and Peter, I--I ’ad a misforchin.’ + +“‘Misforchin?’ ses Ginger, staring at ’im. + +“‘I--I ’ad my p-pocket picked,’ ses Sam, stuttering. + +“Peter Russet made another noise afore Ginger could stop ’im, and then +they both stood up staring at Sam. + +“‘A lady asked me the time,’ ses Sam, shutting his eyes so as ’e +couldn’t see ’em, ‘and while I was telling ’er one of ’er pals come up +and choked me, and two others helped themselves out o’ my pockets.’ + +“Ginger looked at Peter--just in time. Then he looked at Sam again. + +“‘’Ow much was it?’ he ses. + +“‘Eleven pounds and my watch and chain,’ ses Sam; ‘if it wasn’t for +seven shillings they didn’t find, in another pocket, I should be +starving. ’Ow long do you think a man could live on seven shillings?’ + +“‘Me or you?’ ses Ginger, considering. + +“‘Me,’ ses pore Sam. + +“‘Week or ten days--with care,’ ses Ginger. + +“Sam thanked ’im, but not very loud, and arter saying ’e didn’t care +wot become of ’im and he didn’t suppose ’is pals did neither, he +punched ’is piller as if it was somebody ’e didn’t like and laid down +and shut ’is eyes. + +“He was up fust next morning counting ’is seven shillings over and over +agin, and Peter and Ginger purtending not to notice it. They didn’t see +’im agin till night time ’cos, when Peter spoke to Ginger about giving +’im his eleven pounds back, Ginger said ’e ought to be made to suffer a +little for ’is foolishness fust, to be a lesson to ’im. + +“‘We’re saving it up for ’im,’ he ses. ‘While we’ve got it he can’t be +spending it.’ + +“‘Or trusting people with it,’ ses Peter. + +“Both of ’em felt quite kind to Sam, thinking ’ow good they was going +to be to ’im, but Sam ’ardly spoke a word to ’em and was up and out +next morning a’most afore they ’ad got their eyes open. Twice they came +back to their room that day to see whether he ’ad turned up, and when +night-time came and ’e was still missing, Peter Russet said as ’ow he +was getting uneasy about ’im.” + +“‘Wot’s ’e doing?’ he ses. ‘He ain’t got any money to go to pubs with, +and there’s nowhere else for ’im to go.’ + +“They sat on their beds smoking and drinking some whisky they ’ad +brought in with ’em, and Ginger was just helping ’imself to ’is third +glass when ’e put the bottle down and sat listening. + +“‘Somebody coming upstairs,’ he ses. + +“‘He’s a long time about it,’ ses Peter. ‘He ’as been sitting in a pub.’ + +“Somebody was coming up the stairs so slow it seemed as if ’e would +never get to the top, and the banisters was creaking as if they would +break. Then they ’eard a shuffling on the landing, and as the door +opened they both jumped up and called out at the same time: + +“‘Lor’ lumme!’ ses Ginger. ‘’Ave you been run over, Sam?’ + +“Sam looked at ’im for a moment and then ’e gave a stagger and tumbled +on to ’is bed. + +“‘Mr. Cooper!’ he ses, in a faint voice. + +“‘Wot about ’im?’ ses Ginger. + +“‘He done it,’ ses Sam, ‘’im and ’is pals. I went round to the pub to +see if I could find ’im, thinking ’e might ’ave been took ill the other +night, and this is wot I got. He said I’d robbed _’im_. _Me!_ He goes +off with my money and then ’arf kills me. Wot for? That’s wot I want to +know.’ + +“‘It’s a mystery,’ ses Ginger, shaking his ’ead. + +“‘I thought you said you didn’t give ’im the money,’ ses Peter. + +“Sam didn’t answer ’im, and arter drinking a glass o’ whisky Ginger +gave ’im he ’eld his ’ead in his ’ands and said ’e thought ’e was +dying. When they offered to undress ’im he said ’e didn’t think it was +worth while, but they got ’is clo’es off arter a bit and put ’im into +bed. + +“‘Wot did ’e do it _for_?’ he ses, arter he had ’ad two more whiskies. +‘D’ye think ’e’s mad? His ’ead was all bandaged up.’ + +“Ginger shook his ’ead. ‘It’s a mystery,’ he ses again. + +“He went acrost the room and came back with something tied up in a +handkerchief and put it on Sam’s bed. Sam looked at it a moment and +then ’e picked it up and out tumbled eleven pounds, a watch and chain, +and a imitation gold cigar-case. + +“‘He’s fainted,’ ses Peter Russet.” + + + + +Kitchen Company + + +Practice makes perfect, and when Mrs. Brampton, from her seat by the +window, announced the approach of the Captain, Mr. Leonard Scott kissed +Miss Brampton in the small hall and made his usual dignified exit to +the kitchen. To leave by the side-entrance was the best way of avoiding +trouble with a man who was always looking out for it. Mr. Scott +bestowed a nod upon the smiling young mistress of the kitchen, and with +his hand upon the back-door waited to hear the Captain at the front. + +“One o’ these days,” began Clara, who loved to dwell upon the gruesome, +“he’ll come----” + +She broke off and listened. “He’s coming,” she said, in a thrilling +whisper. “He’s coming the back way.” + +Mr. Scott started, hesitated, and was lost. + +“Fly!” exclaimed Clara, pointing by accident to the ceiling. + +The young man scowled at her, and before he had time to alter his +expression found himself gazing at the burly form and inflamed visage +of Captain Brampton. + +“Well?” barked the latter. “What are you doing in my kitchen? Eh? What +have you got to say for yourself?” + +Mr. Scott coughed and tried to collect his thoughts. In the front room +Mrs. Brampton and her daughter eyed each other in silent consternation. +Then, in response to a peremptory bellow, Mrs. Brampton rose and made a +trembling passage to the kitchen. + +“What does this mean?” demanded the Captain in grating accents. + +His wife stood looking helplessly from one to the other, and, instead +of answering the question, passed it on. + +“What does this mean, Clara?” she demanded. + +“Eh?” said that astonished maiden. “What does what mean?” + +“This,” said the Captain sternly, with a jerk of his head towards Mr. +Scott. “Did you invite him here?” + +Clara started--but in a lesser degree than Mr. Scott--and looked down +modestly at a hole in the hearth-rug. Mrs. Brampton and her daughter +gazed at her in hushed expectation. + +“I didn’t, not to say, invite him,” replied Clara, “but I can’t help +him coming here.” + +“_H’m!_ Perhaps you didn’t try,” said the Captain with unexpected +mildness. “How long have you known him?” + +“Some time, sir,” said Clara vaguely. + +“Does he want to marry you?” + +Clara looked at her mistress for guidance, but the latter was engaged +at the moment in an eye-to-eye duel with the fermenting Mr. Scott. Over +the Captain’s face stole an expression of great and unusual benevolence. + +“Well, well,” he said slowly. “We’ve all been young once. He’s not much +to look at, but he looks clean and respectable. When do you think of +getting married?” + +“That’s for him to say, sir,” said the modest Clara. + +“Well, there’s no hurry,” said the Captain, “no hurry. He can come +round once a week for you on your evening out, but no other time, mind.” + +“Thank you, sir,” said Clara, who was beginning to enjoy herself. “It’s +my evening out to-night, sir. He was going to take me to the pictures.” + +A stifled exclamation came from the direction where Mr. Scott was +standing, which the Captain chose to interpret as an expression of +gratitude. With instructions to Clara to regale her admirer with bread +and cheese and one glass of beer, he shepherded his wife and daughter +from the kitchen. Humming a light air, Clara began to set the table. + +“What the devil did you want to say I was going to take you to the +pictures for?” demanded the ungrateful Mr. Scott. + +“’Cos I wanted to go,” said his hostess calmly. + +Mr. Scott regarded her coldly. “I will walk with you as far as the +corner of this road,” he said with an air of finality. + +“We’ll go to the best seats and I’ll have a box of chocolates,” said +Clara. “Do you like chocolates?” + +“No,” said the other sternly. + +“Praise be!” said the girl piously. “My other young man----” + +Mr. Scott coughed violently. + +“All right,” said the girl, “don’t get excited. He’s away on a job for +a week or two, else I wouldn’t dare to be seen with you. When the cat’s +away the mice will play,” she added. + +The young man eyed her in amazement. This was a new Clara. His lips +quivered and his eyes watered. He took up his glass of beer and nodded. + +“Right-o!” he agreed. + +He smoked a cigarette while the girl went upstairs to dress, and a +little later, watched by three pairs of eyes from the front window, +sailed up the street with her arm-in-arm. + +“She’s too good for him,” said the Captain, with decision. + +“Much,” assented his daughter, with a smile. + +“Tailor’s dummy!” soliloquised the Captain. + +“Cheap tailor, too,” murmured the acquiescent Miss Brampton. “Did you +notice how baggy his trousers are at the knees?” + +The Captain shot a glance at her. Twenty years’ experience of a wife +whose only anxiety was to please him was not the best preparation for +handling a daughter who, to say the least of it, had other ambitions. +He began to fear that she had inherited more of his strength of +character--a quality for which some of his friends found another +name--than was convenient. + +“He’s a softy,” he growled. “He ought to have a year or two at sea. +That might make a man of him.” + +He got up and went into the garden, leaving mother and daughter to +discuss the possibilities of a situation which had found them somewhat +unprepared. + +“It might have been worse,” said Mrs. Brampton. “If your father had +caught him in here----” + +“He couldn’t eat him,” said her daughter rebelliously. + +“There are worse things than being eaten,” said Mrs. Brampton, with +some feeling. + +Miss Brampton nodded. “Taking Clara to the pictures, for instance,” she +remarked. “Poor Leonard!” + +Her mother sniffed. “I dare say he will get over it,” she said dryly. +“Unless Clara’s young man gets to hear of it. From what she has told me +he is a very hot-tempered young man--and very strong.” + +“Pity father didn’t find _him_ in the kitchen,” said the dutiful +daughter. + +She sat down, and in sympathetic mood tried to share the misery of the +absent one at the cinema. A vision of Clara’s hat, perilously near Mr. +Scott’s shoulder, mercifully eluded her, but, the window being open to +the summer air, she was unable to help hearing the cheerful babble of +laughter that heralded their return. It seemed to strike a wrong note; +and the couple of noisy kisses which Clara saw fit to bestow upon the +back of her hand for the Captain’s benefit were registered on the wrong +target. + +Mrs. Brampton obtained the explanation from Clara next day, and +accepted it without prejudice. Her daughter declined to accept it at +all. + +“You quite understand that he must not come to see you again?” she said +stiffly. + +“But he’s got to,” said the staring handmaiden. “The Captain says so. +And if he plays fast-and-loose with me I’m to have him up for breach of +promise. Lively for me, ain’t it? When I think of Bill and his temper +I get goose-flesh all over.” + +The ladies eyed each other in silent consternation. + +“Your father _knows_,” said the elder at last. “He has done this on +purpose.” + +“Set a trap for him,” said Clara, nodding. “Looks like it. And I’m the +little bit o’ cheese, I suppose?” + +Mrs. Brampton stared at her. + +“Father forgets that I am nineteen,” said her daughter. “Why shouldn’t +I----?” + +“I was only fifteen when _I_ started,” murmured Clara, “and not big for +my age neither.” + +“That will do,” said Mrs. Brampton. + +“Yes’m,” said the girl. “Still----” + +“Still what?” demanded her mistress. + +“I’ve been dragged into it,” said Clara mutinously. “Nobody asked me +or troubled about my feelings. I do the best I can, and that’s all the +thanks I get for it. Suppose I had told the Captain it was Miss Edith +he was after? Where would you have been then?” + +“We won’t discuss it,” said Mrs. Brampton with an air of feeble dignity. + +She made as stately an exit as the size of the kitchen would allow, +and, carefully closing the door of the sitting-room, made a few remarks +on Clara’s character, and more on her lack of it. + +“It’s no good blaming Clara,” said her daughter. “It’s father’s doing. +He wants to make Leonard look like a fool first and scare him away +afterwards. He’ll tell all his friends about it.” + +“Mr. Hopkins, for one,” said Mrs. Brampton, nodding sagely. “I +wonder----” + +“I don’t,” said the girl, reddening. + +“Your father seems to have taken a great fancy to him,” continued Mrs. +Brampton. “Now, does he come here to see your father, or----” + +“Or,” said her daughter bitterly. “It’s just like father. I suppose +he will want to choose my tooth-powder for me next. But he won’t get +any satisfaction out of me--_or_ Leonard. I’ll see to that. As for Mr. +Hopkins--_brrh!_” + +She beamed, however, on that innocent man when her father brought him +in next day to see the garden, and when the wily Captain went indoors +for his pipe made no attempt to follow him. It was a pipe that was +notorious for the discovery of new and unusual hiding-places, and on +this occasion made no attempt to belie its reputation. + +Meantime, the delighted Mr. Hopkins, under the skilful management of +Miss Brampton, walked with his head in the clouds and his feet on +various choice border plants. + +“Hadn’t you better walk on the path?” inquired the girl, who had been +monopolising three-quarters of it. “It’s more comfortable.” + +Mr. Hopkins started. “Good heavens!” he said in an alarmed voice, as he +bent down to render first aid to a stock with a broken neck. “Did I do +that?” + +Miss Brampton nodded. “Those, too, I think,” she replied, with a wave +of her hand. “Don’t you care for flowers?” + +Mr. Hopkins, who was fearfully endeavouring to conceal the traces of +his crime, made no reply. When the Captain came out they were both +speechless, but he was, if anything, the redder of the two. + +“These paths are very narrow, father,” remarked the humane Edith. + +The Captain made a noise. + +“Afraid--crowding--Miss Edith,” panted the offender. + +The Captain made another noise. In the present company all the useful +words he knew were useless. + +“Did you find your pipe, father?” inquired the persevering Miss +Brampton. + +The Captain was understood to say “Yes.” At the same time he favoured +her with a glance which would have made her mother tremble. On Miss +Brampton it had a bracing effect. + +“Father’s always mislaying his pipe,” she said, with a bright laugh. “I +shouldn’t trouble any more about those, if I were you, Mr. Hopkins. You +can’t do them any good, and you are standing on an antirrhinum.” + +Mr. Hopkins removed his foot hastily, and placing it carefully in the +centre of the path offered up another apology. It was received with +what the Captain fondly believed to be a smile. + +“Accidents will happen,” he said hoarsely. + +“In the best-regulated families,” said Miss Brampton, with a satisfied +smile. + +She paid a touching tribute to the excellence of the victims after the +visitor had gone, and sought for some time for an explanation of the +tragedy. + +“He must have been ‘wool-gathering,’” she declared at length. + +“What do you mean by that?” demanded her father. + +“Absent-minded,” said Edith. “He seemed like a man walking on air, +instead of some of the best stocks in the neighbourhood. Even Clara’s +young man would have more sense than that.” + +“Clara’s young man won’t go into my garden,” said the Captain. “The +kitchen is the place for him.” + +He stalked out into the garden, and, digging up hopeless cases with a +trowel, sought to revive the less badly injured with a water-can. + +It might have been a sign of a forgiving nature, but was more likely +due to an obstinate one, that he invited Mr. Hopkins back to the scene +of his footwork a day or two later. Missing plants had been replaced by +a consignment from the florists, and rolled paths and raked flower-beds +testified to the Captain’s industry. Everything was “shipshape and +Bristol fashion” as the greatly relieved visitor walked with Miss +Brampton in the garden in the cool of the evening. The Captain, after +satisfying himself that Mr. Hopkins was walking almost as carefully as +a performer on the tight-rope, had disappeared indoors. + +The path was narrow, but even when Miss Brampton sent electric thrills +through his being by leaning against him, Mr. Hopkins kept to it. The +air was soft and the scent of the flowers delightful. Never before had +his conversation been so appreciated. The low-voiced laughter of his +companion was a tribute to his wit as rare as it was welcome. + +“You ought to write plays,” she said thoughtfully, as she planted her +foot firmly on a geranium. + +“You want influence to get them accepted,” said Mr. Hopkins. + +“I should try, if I were you, though,” said the girl, nearly missing +another geranium. + +Mr. Hopkins purred. Miss Brampton, with downcast eyes, trod down six +flowers in succession. + +“Dialogue would be your strong point,” mused the girl, continuing her +ravages. “Crisp and sparkling.” + +She took the other side as they turned at the end of the path, and in a +hushed voice called his attention to some beautiful cloud effects. Mr. +Hopkins, with his head at an acute angle, murmured his admiration. + +“An evening to remember,” he said, very softly. + +He brought his gaze slowly to earth and started convulsively. + +“Giddy?” inquired the girl, with much solicitude. + +Mr. Hopkins shook his head and, speech failing him, pointed with a +trembling finger to the prostrate victims of misdirected industry. Miss +Brampton stared in her turn. + +“Oh, Mr. Hopkins!” she said, in accusing tones. + +“I--I haven’t been near them,” stammered the unfortunate. + +“They must have done it themselves, then,” said the girl calmly. +“Perhaps they were not strong enough to stand the breeze.” + +Mr. Hopkins breathed heavily. “I--I really think----” he began. + +“Yes?” said Miss Brampton. + +“I don’t know what to think,” concluded the other feebly. + +His companion gazed wistfully at the wreckage. + +“Poor father!” she said softly. “He is so fond of his garden. He seems +to know every flower, but, of course, he hasn’t had these long enough +to know them.” + +Mr. Hopkins groaned and cast a fearful glance at the house. + +“It’s his one hobby,” continued the girl. “I have heard him use worse +language about cats than anything else, I think. And the doctor says +excitement is so bad for him.” + +“I can’t understand it,” ventured Mr. Hopkins, with an appealing glance. + +“I wonder whether father will?” said the girl. “He is coming out, I +think.” + +Mr. Hopkins looked around panic-stricken. Then he pulled out his watch. + +“Good gracious!” he murmured. “I must be going, I think. No idea so +late. Appointment.” + +He moved hastily in the direction of the side-gate, and hardly +realising the geniality of Miss Brampton’s hand-clasp, disappeared. The +girl stood watching until he had turned the corner and then went into +the house. + +“Where’s Hopkins!” inquired the Captain. + +“He has just gone.” + +“Gone!” repeated her father. “Why, I asked him to stay to supper. Did +you send him off? Eh?” + +His daughter shook her head. “He went off in a hurry,” she murmured. “I +think he had an idea that perhaps he had offended you.” + +“Rubbish!” grunted the Captain, eyeing her suspiciously. “What should +he offend me about?” + +“Knowing how fond you are of your flowers----” began Miss Brampton. + +The Captain uttered a smothered cry and, springing from his chair, +dashed into the garden. Cries that were anything but smothered, and +words that ought to have been, brought his wife to her daughter’s +side. Together they watched the head of the house as, with fists raised +to heaven, he danced a strange and frenzied dance down the path. + +“He’s wonderfully supple for his age,” said the admiring daughter. + +Mrs. Brampton shivered. “I don’t suppose that poor young man will dare +to show his face here again,” she said slowly. + +“If he does, there will be an accident to the rose trees,” said her +daughter, compressing her lips. “I’ve had all I can stand of Mr. +Hopkins.” + +“And then there’s Mr. Scott,” said her mother plaintively. “Clara says +that she thinks her young man has heard something, and if he should +happen to meet them one evening----” + +“It might be bad for the young man,” said the girl calmly. “Leonard +would have a better nose if he didn’t box so much. Look at father!” + +Mrs. Brampton looked. + +“He--he seems to be examining the foot-marks,” she gasped. + +“Time I changed your sensible low-heeled shoes for something more +dressy,” said her daughter, disappearing. + +She was back before the Captain re-entered the house, and sitting +cross-legged, displayed a pair of sharp-toed, high-heeled shoes of +blameless aspect, which met his ardent gaze with a polished stare. He +turned his back at last and stood gazing blankly out at his cherished +garden. + +It never occurred to him to accept defeat, and his daughter was +therefore more annoyed than surprised to see Mr. Hopkins--a nervous, +chastened Mr. Hopkins--back again after a few days. On this occasion, +however, the Captain lingered in the garden, and from a deck-chair +beneath the window watched his faltering steps. + +Conscious of this scrutiny, the visitor babbled incoherences to Miss +Brampton, until in self-defence she retreated to the house on the plea +of a thorn in her foot. + +The sound of Mr. Scott’s voice in the kitchen did not add to her +comfort. A glance from her window showed her that her father had taken +her place with the visitor and was pointing out to him the merits of +the rockery. She stole downstairs and, opening the kitchen-door, peeped +in. + +“I thought you were going to the cinema,” she said, addressing Mr. +Scott coldly. + +“Can’t,” was the reply. “Clara’s Bill is outside, and she’s afraid to +come.” + +“He’s waiting for him,” said Clara breathlessly. “There’ll be murder +done--and I shall be the cause of it.” + +“Cheer up,” said Mr. Scott. “He’ll only have a week or two in a nice +comfortable hospital. You’ll be able to see him on Sunday afternoons +and take him grapes.” + +“I know who’ll want the grapes,” said Clara miserably. “You don’t know +his strength. I don’t believe he knows it himself.” + +“Where is he?” demanded Miss Brampton. + +“Outside the side-gate, miss,” replied Clara. “Like a cat waiting for a +mouse.” + +“A mouse!” ejaculated the startled Mr. Scott. “Now look here, Clara----” + +“I’ll go and send him away,” said Miss Brampton with decision. + +She slipped into the garden and, her father’s back still being towards +her, opened the side-gate and looked out. A bullet-headed young man, +standing just outside, drew up sharply at her appearance and stood +scowling at her. + +“Do you want to see Clara?” she inquired. + +“I’m waiting,” said Mr. Bill Jones, “waiting for a toff.” + +Miss Brampton stood regarding him with a puzzled air. Then she had an +inspiration that almost took her breath away. + +“Do you mean the gentleman who is in the garden talking to father?” she +inquired. + +Mr. Jones’s eyes glistened. He licked his lips and stood breathing hard +and short. Miss Brampton, with an encouraging smile, pushed the door +open. + +Mr. Jones needed no further invitation. With head erect and eyes ablaze +he entered the garden and, catching sight of the unconscious Mr. +Hopkins, strode rapidly towards him. + +“Here! What do you want?” demanded the astonished Captain. + +Mr. Jones ignored him, and continuing his progress, thrust his face +into that of Mr. Hopkins. + +“Take my gal away, will yer?” he shouted. “Take ’er to the pictures, +will yer? Take that!” + +Mr. Hopkins took it and went down with a cry of anguish. Through a mist +of pain he heard the voice of his assailant. + +“Get up! Get up, else I’ll jump on yer.” + +Mr. Hopkins got up, and the appearance of Mr. Jones was so terrible +that he turned and fled, with the other in hot pursuit. + +“Stop!” yelled the choking Captain. “Mind the flowers! Mind the fl----” + +Mr. Hopkins paid no heed; neither, to do him justice, did Mr. Jones. +Firmly convinced that his life was in danger, the former performed +miracles of agility, while his opponent pounded doggedly behind. A bad +third, owing to his keeping to the path, the Captain followed raving in +the rear. + +Broken plants lay in the wake of Mr. Hopkins; churned-up earth marked +the progress of Mr. Jones as he endeavoured to head him off. And at +this juncture Mr. Scott appeared from the kitchen, shedding his coat. + +“What the devil do you think you’re doing?” he shouted. + +Mr. Jones pulled up suddenly and favoured him with a menacing glare. + +“Look at those flowers,” cried Mr. Scott severely. “You chump-headed, +mutton-headed son of a gun!” + +Mr. Jones stood irresolute. He looked longingly at Mr. Hopkins taking +cover behind the Captain; then with a loud roar he threw himself upon +this new arrival. + +Mr. Scott side-stepped neatly and smote him heavily on the chin. Mr. +Jones, turning in amazement, took three more and, being by this time +acclimatised, settled down to a steady mill. + +“You’d better go,” said the Captain harshly, to Mr. Hopkins. “This +isn’t a sight for you.” + +Mr. Hopkins went, somewhat reluctantly. He was a man of peace, but the +sight of Mr. Jones’s damages seemed in some way to afford him an odd +feeling of satisfaction. The Captain stayed to see fair play--also +the only fight with fists he had seen since he left the sea. It was +with almost a sigh that he went at length to help Mr. Scott assist his +adversary to his feet. The dazed Mr. Jones, with Clara’s arm about his +waist, was led indoors and his head placed under the scullery tap. The +cooling sounds of running water and the heated comments of Mr. Jones +alone broke the silence. + +[Illustration: THE CAPTAIN STAYED TO SEE FAIR PLAY.] + +“Well, that’s over,” said Mr. Scott, tenderly dabbing his face with his +handkerchief, as Miss Brampton came out. “I’m afraid Clara has jilted +me, sir.” + +The Captain grunted and eyed him curiously. + +“I was going to take her to the cinema, now I suppose I shall have to +go alone. Unless----” + +“Well?” barked the Captain, waiting. + +“Unless Miss Brampton comes with me.” + +The Captain stood up and faced him, choking. + +“Cinema!” he roared. “Cinema! If you want to do something to pass the +evening, you can help her help me help make the garden tidy.” + + + + +The Model + + +I + +It was getting too dark to work, and the artist, a cigarette between +his lips, was sitting restfully at the open window, lazily scanning +through his half-closed lids the languid life of the old Italian city +below. As the objects in his studio retired farther and farther into +the shadows, he arose, and taking his hat from a peg, passed slowly +down the long staircase into the street. The air, which had been almost +stifling during the day was now freshening, and he passed from street +to street with the aimless enjoyment of the man to whom the mere +exercise of his cramped limbs is a luxury. + +Standing idly at a lighted corner preparatory to turning back, his gaze +fell upon a middle-aged woman of poor appearance who was passing. He +started violently, and in an undecided fashion stood gazing after her +retreating figure until it disappeared down a small by-street. Then, on +a sudden impulse, he threw away his cigarette and started in pursuit. + +At first he gained but little on her, and once or twice nearly lost +her in the rapidly increasing darkness, but in the end his youth and +strength told, and the woman, who had been conscious for some time that +her steps were dogged, slackened her pace and walked with her hand +pressed to her side, breathing distressfully. In the centre of the old +stone bridge which leads from the narrow streets of the town to the +open country beyond, he overtook her. + +“Pardon, signora,” he said softly. + +The woman halted, her hand on the low stone parapet, and confronted him. + +“You walk fast,” he continued, smiling. + +She murmured an indistinct something, and made as though to go. + +“No, I have followed you some distance,” said the artist, “I can’t +afford to lose you. Will you let me see your face? I have a reason for +the request.” + +With a startled gesture, and not without looking right and left as +though for assistance, should it be needed, she threw her head back, +her pale features showing clearly in the light of an adjoining lamp. + +“Beautiful!” said the artist joyfully, “beautiful!” + +[Illustration: “BEAUTIFUL,” SAID THE ARTIST JOYFULLY, “BEAUTIFUL!”] + +“Signor,” said the woman with dignity, conscious of forty years and +sundry wrinkles, “you mock me.” + +“By no means,” he said anxiously; “you have the face I have sought for +years. You will sit for me, will you not?” + +“The signor is an artist then,” said the woman, breathing more freely. + +He nodded, and for the first time perceived that he had frightened her. +“I was too abrupt,” he said regretfully. “I saw your face and forgot +all else.” + +The woman smiled faintly, a slight glow tinged her face and her eyes +brightened. “I shall be pleased to sit, if I am any use.” + +“Can you come to-morrow?” asked the enthusiast. + +“Yes.” + +“At eleven then, to this address. You will not fail me.” + +Smiling at his earnestness, she gave the desired assurance, and with a +soft good-night left him, and passed swiftly over the bridge into the +darkness beyond. + +For a moment the artist glanced after her as though desirous of +obtaining further pledges of fidelity, and then abandoning the idea, +seated himself on the parapet, and, lighting another cigarette, fell +into a smoker’s reverie. The river went by with a soft swish against +the piles of the old bridge, the air was cool and the ghostly outlines +of the old buildings on either bank, indistinct in the darkness, +appeared to be nodding in sleep. All these drowsy influences combined +were beginning to have a soporific effect upon the smoker, the +buildings nodded more violently than ever, the river murmured more +sweetly. + +“He who sleeps on the parapet awakes in the stream,” said a voice at +his elbow in feigned solemnity. + +“Ah! Rossa,” said the artist, slipping to his feet, and smiling as he +recognised the speaker, “I was just wishing for company home. I have +news for you; at last I have been successful in my search, and my +picture can be finished.” + +“It is time,” remarked the other as he walked by his side; “and where +is she who has succeeded in satisfying your exacting fancy?” + +“I parted from her on the bridge,” replied his friend. “Such a face, +such an expression, the perfect type of bereaved maternity.” + +“Charming!” said Rossa drily. “It must have been a pleasant task, the +acquiring of that self-same expression.” + +The artist, somewhat nettled at his tone, made no reply, and they +traversed the narrow ill-lighted streets almost in silence until they +reached his dwelling. Then with a hearty handshake Rossa took his +leave, and the other climbed the steep stairs which led to his bed to +lie awake half the night, thinking of his great work and the face of +his model. + + +II + +The woman was tired and hot when she reached his studio, for the sun +was nearly at its height, and its heat, imprisoned in the narrow +street, was stifling to those wayfarers who could not move at leisure +and take advantage of such shade as offered. She greeted the artist +timidly, and gazed, not without curiosity, at the littered floor and +the sketches upon the walls. + +“That is what I want you for,” said the artist, indicating with a nod a +large unfinished canvas which stood upon an easel in the full light of +the window. + +His visitor crossed over, and stood looking at the roughly outlined +figure of a woman upon her knees, bending over the calm, awful face of +the dead Christ. She stood for some time in silence, and then as she +understood what her part was to be, turned to the artist to receive his +instructions. + +And never had man a more devoted model. + +True to time, cheerful and willing, she appeared day by day, and it +required but little discernment on the part of the artist to see that +her heart was in the work. Quiet and undemonstrative in manner, it +was yet easy to see her devout joy at the fact that her face should +have been chosen to represent that of the Virgin. Slowly but surely +the work grew in strength and clearness, bit by bit the shadowy figure +of the woman took life, and a weary earth-worn face now bent over the +crucified Saviour. + +It was while sitting at the window one morning, waiting for the +appearance of his model, that the artist was surprised by a visit from +his friend Rossa. + +“Are you amiable to visitors this morning?” inquired the latter. + +“It depends upon their criticisms,” replied the artist smiling. + +“I feel at peace with all mankind at present,” said Rossa. + +“In that case you are welcome,” said the other, “but you are the only +man I allow to see it in its unfinished state.” + +“Always hungry for my suggestions,” murmured Rossa complacently, as he +advanced to the easel. + +“Well?” asked the artist impatiently, after allowing plenty of time for +his friend’s praises. + +“It is the best you have done, as good as you will ever do,” said Rossa +with gratifying energy. “Ah! when will you cease wasting your strength +on these old-world superstitions, and use your brush on nobler themes?” + +“There is none nobler,” said the other gravely. + +Rossa shrugged his shoulders and smiled scornfully. “Bah! you spend +your strength in painting advertisements for the priests, and what +do the smug-faced black-gowns do for you in return? Give you their +blessing, or recommend you to wealthy patrons? Are there no noble +deeds of to-day to bring the blood to a man’s cheek and the water to +his eyes, that you must go back to that hackneyed theme of eighteen +centuries ago?” + +“You are speaking too freely,” said the artist sternly. + +“Freely!” repeated Rossa. “You paint pictures to foster and encourage +ideas which are against all reason, and one may not even speak of it. +And the materials, bah! Do you ask for certificates of character from +the women you paint as Madonnas, or do you take the first that suits?” + +“To tell the truth, I have never thought of it,” said the other, “but +in this case the woman’s face is her best certificate.” + +“It certainly supported her for many years,” said Rossa drily. + +“What, do you know her? She told me she had never sat before,” said the +artist in surprise. + +“Years ago I knew her well,” said his friend, “but not as a model. +It was in Naples. She had a large circle of acquaintances, and was +commonly known as ‘The Doll.’ Even to an atheist there seems to be an +incongruity somewhere in painting her in this character.” + +“Is this a jest?” asked the artist, struggling between amazement and +anger. + +“Ask her,” said Rossa quietly. “Poor devil; I’m sorry I spoke though. +She certainly has got a sad face, and I suppose it doesn’t matter to +you how she got it.” + +The artist shook his head. + +“Come,” said the repentant Rossa, “don’t spoil your picture and rake up +this poor thing’s past for nothing; perhaps I am mistaken.” + +His friend smiled faintly, and bidding his visitor “good-bye” sat +himself down in the window-seat in a brown study. A devout man, his +heart was troubled. Art and religion strove within him for the mastery. +He sat in perplexity until a light tap at the door announced the +arrival of the model. + +“It is hot, signor,” said she, smiling--“scarce a breath of air in the +streets, but it is cool here.” + +True to the minute, interested in his work, she had toiled through the +heat. He looked at her coarse, work-stained hands and gentle face, and +faltered. + +“I told you that the picture is intended for a gift to the cathedral, +did I not?” he inquired after a pause. + +“Surely, signor.” She smiled again. Already she saw her face and that +other looking down from the cathedral wall on to the hushed crowd +beneath. + +“I chose your face,” continued the artist, “because it seemed to me to +contain all that I required for my subject; but there is one little +matter of which I should have spoken before. The face that I have +chosen for the Holy Mother, which is to remind the people of her divine +goodness and great sorrow, must be that of a good woman. I dare not +portray any other.” + +There was no smile on the woman’s lips now, and in her face, pale one +moment and flushed with shame the next, he saw that she guessed the +extent of his knowledge. + +“I did not think it mattered,” she said at length in a low voice. “I +never thought of it. There--there were two Marys, signor, and He loved +both.” + +She looked at him humbly, with blurred eyes, but he had averted his +face. He raised it at length at the sound of a door closing, and found +that he was alone. + +For a long time he sat motionless. At last, with the air of a man who +has an unpleasant task before him, he arose and looked long and close +at the nearly finished picture. Then he took it from the easel, and +placing it on the floor with its face to the wall, he too went out. + + +III + +Since the woman left the studio a year had passed. The neglected +canvas still stood on the floor, its place on the easel being filled +by a picture of “The Draught of Fishes.” The artist, disappointed +in his favourite work, had done little that was worthy since, though +he was as determined as ever not to complete it. Of the woman he had +seen nothing, and he had abandoned as hopeless the task of finding a +substitute. + +He was sitting listlessly before his easel, brush in hand, when he was +interrupted by a gentle tap at the door. It opened, and a priest--an +old man with white hair and brown, rugged face--entered and stood on +the threshold. + +“The Signor Paoli?” he inquired. + +The artist rose and bowed. + +“I’m afraid I intrude,” said the old man. “You are busy, I see. I +desired to see your pictures. Perhaps another time----” + +“I am not busy,” said the artist, throwing down his brush. “There are +but few here. I wish there were more.” + +He closed the door, and stood by the old man’s side as he inspected the +studies on the walls and such few completed works as were left in the +studio. He paused at length before the easel, and after inspecting the +canvas there, turned and pointed with his stick at the one which leaned +against the wall. + +“May I see it?” he asked. + +“It is not finished,” said the artist. He hesitated a moment, and then +removing the canvas from the easel, crossed the room, and returning +with the other, silently placed it before his visitor. + +An exclamation of delight burst from the old priest’s lips as he leaned +on his stick and gazed on it. + +“A noble work,” he murmured at length, without removing his eyes. “A +noble work. When will you finish it?” + +“It is not to be finished,” said the artist. “I discovered by accident +that the woman who sat to me had led an infamous life; that the lines +which I thought were caused by bereavement owed their birth to sin; +that the woman who I thought mourned her dead children mourned instead +her dead innocence.” + +“She will sin no more,” said the priest gently. “Nay, I hope and +believe she will mourn no more. She died last night.” + +“Last night,” said the startled artist. “You know of the affair, +then--she told you?” + +“I have known her for years,” said the old man; “known her and loved +her. She came to this city, and left her wickedness like a soiled +garment behind her. Her father cursed her, and her mother bewailed the +hour she was born; brothers and sisters forgot that she had ever been. +Years ago, weary of sin, she came here, and maintained herself by hard +and ill-paid toil.” + +“Her hands said so,” muttered the artist. + +“For a long time,” continued the priest without noticing the +interruption, “she lived alone, without the love or sympathy of a +single soul; and lived a good life. But one day she saw in the streets +a blind, weary old man, hustled by boys. Him she took home and nursed +and fed. He told her that he had lost wife and children, wealth and +sight, and had no man left to call him friend; and yet, for fear that +he should not accept her bounty, she never told him that he had one +child left. So that he might be fed she worked late into the night and +rose with the dawn, always haunted by the fear--for her early life had +left in her the seeds of death--that he might outlive her and become +destitute.” + +He paused and looked at the artist. + +“So it went on, and only I knew the story. Last night she lay dying, +and the old man on his knees by her bedside kissed her hand and said +that she was to him as a beloved daughter, and prayed to God for sight +that he might behold her ere she died.” + +“It must have been a painful moment when she made herself known,” said +the artist. + +“It might have been,” answered the priest; “who knows? But she died +with her poor lips sealed, though I think it was almost more than she +could bear. I have seen many sad sights, may God in His mercy keep me +from such another.” + +“Why not have told him, then?” inquired the artist after a long pause. + +“There was a reason,” said the old man; “she had scraped together a +small sum for her father’s use when she should no longer be able to +work for him. It was possible, at least she thought so, that he might +refuse it if he knew the donor.” + +The air in the room was close, and the artist opened the window. He +came back to the canvas and sat for some time slowly regarding it. More +slowly still he filled his brush with colour and leaned forward. Then +checking himself suddenly, he looked up at the priest. + +The priest smiled. + + + + +Artful Cards + + +“Gambling I don’t ’old with,” said the night-watchman, pursing his +lips. “There’s gamblers and gamblers. There’s people like myself as +does it now and then out of good-nature to oblige, and there’s people +like that squint-eyed, ginger-whiskered mate on the _Queen Mary_. If +he ’ad spent as much time learning good manners as he ’as learning the +three-card trick, it would ha’ been better for both of us. Especially +me. + +“He ain’t the only one. I remember teaching draughts to a man I met one +evening. He was a born fool to look at, and ’e looked just the same +when ’e bid me ‘Good night’ with seven-and-six o’ mine in ’is pocket. +I ’eard arterwards that he could do anything with draughts except make +’em speak. + +“Most sailormen like a bit of a flutter. One chap I knew used to spend +all his time ashore backing ’orses. When ’e lost, ’e lost, and when +he won the bookie used to get lost. And the only time he did get his +winnings he got fourteen days for the way ’e spent ’em. + +“I remember one time when old Sam Small got a perfeck craze for playing +cards. His idea was to make some money for ’is old age, and, instead of +going out and enjoying ’imself with Ginger Dick and Peter Russet, he +sat all day in the bedroom being taught by a young professional sharper +’e met in the Three Widders. He even learnt ’ow to do the three-card +trick--arter a fashion--and came round to show me one evening. We +played for ha’pennies at fust, and I lost seven right off. Then we +played for bobs, and it seemed as if I couldn’t lose. I never see +anybody so puzzled as Sam was, and then ’e turned round and said he’d +been doing it all wrong, and asked for ’is money back. I ’ad to be firm +with ’im--for his own sake. + +“A man never knows ’is best friends. If he’d kept on playing cards +with me it would ha’ been better for both of us; instead o’ that, he +preferred to let strangers win ’is money. He used to take ’em to his +bedroom, and one night Ginger couldn’t get to bed because three or four +of ’em had ’ad it for a card-table and spilt a can of beer in it. + +“He could have ’ad two beds next night, ’cos to their surprise Sam +didn’t come ’ome. He was still missing when they went out to brekfuss +next morning, and by the time arternoon came Ginger began to feel +uneasy about ’im. + +“‘Mark my words,’ he ses to Peter Russet, ‘he’s been and gorn and got +into some trouble.’ + +“‘Any fool could see that,’ ses Peter. ‘’Ow much money ’ad he got on +’im? Besides the eight quid you are minding for ’im?’ + +“Ginger shook his ’ead. ‘It’s my belief he’s been made away with,’ he +ses, jingling the money in his trowsis-pocket. ‘It all comes of ’im +thinking he can play cards.’ + +“‘P’r’aps I’d better mind ’arf of the money, in case you get robbed,’ +ses Peter. + +“Ginger didn’t hear ’im. He was too busy thinking about pore Sam. +By the time twelve o’clock came, and no Sam, they felt certain that +something had ’appened to ’im, and Ginger kept Peter awake ’arf the +night talking to ’im about the ’appy times the three of them had ’ad +together. + +“‘I suppose we must go out and try and eat something,’ he ses next +morning, shaking his ’ead. + +“‘I s’pose so,’ ses Peter, very sorrowful; ‘but it’s wasting good +money.’ + +“They went downstairs very slow, and opened the door just as Sam’s +friend wot taught ’im ’ow to play cards knocked on it. Sharp-faced +young chap ’e was, with ’is eyes ’arf-closed and a fag stuck in the +corner of ’is mouth. + +“‘’Ullo, Ginger,’ he ses, nodding. + +“‘Wot do you want?’ ses Ginger, sniffing at ’im. + +“‘I’ve got a letter for you,’ he ses. + +“Ginger held out ’is ’and for it and, arter speaking sharp to Peter +Russet about good manners, stood reading it as though he couldn’t +believe ’is eyesight. + +“‘It’s from Sam,’ he ses, at last. ‘He’s lost all ’is money at cards, +as I knew ’e would; and ’e wants me to send ’im five quid.’ + +“‘Wot ’e owes,’ ses the young chap. + +“‘He can go on owing it, then,’ ses Ginger, very firm. ‘If ’e wants ’is +five quid let ’im come and fetch it.’ + +“‘He can’t,’ ses the young chap. + +“‘Can’t? Why not?’ ses Ginger, turning on ’im. + +“‘He’s lost other things besides money,’ ses the chap. ‘He played the +last two hands in ’is shirt and cap, and ’e can’t come ’ome in _them_. +’Ow would you like it yourself? Besides, think of the cold!’ + +“‘Shirt and cap?’ ses Ginger, staring at ’im. + +“‘He made ’imself a skirt out of tater-sack this morning,’ ses the +young chap. ‘It’s a tight fit--still, it’s better than nothing.’ + +“‘All right,’ ses Ginger, arter a few words on the quiet with Peter +Russet, ‘we’ll come with you and see wot can be done. Where is he?’ + +“‘Find out,’ ses the chap. ‘Why don’t you give me the money same as +your pal tells you to? Wot are you wasting time like this for? It’s ’is +money. He ’asn’t ’ad nothing to eat since yesterday arternoon. D’you +want ’im to starve?’ + +“Ginger led Peter away again. + +“‘We’ll lay low and foller ’im ’ome,’ he ses, in a whisper. + +“‘Wot about brekfuss?’ ses Peter. ‘I want mine something cruel.’ + +“‘Plenty o’ time,’ ses Ginger. ‘Think o’ pore Sam; nothing to eat since +yesterday arternoon.’ + +“He turned back to the young man, wot was doing a double-shuffle on the +pavement and looking up at the chimbley-pots. + +“‘Why don’t you tell us where ’e is?’ he ses, in a sharp voice. + +“‘Fancy,’ ses the chap, lighting another fag. + +“‘You won’t get no five pounds out o’ me,’ ses Ginger, ‘Come along, +Peter; we’ll go back indoors and wait for Sam to come ’ome. You go and +tell ’im wot I said,’ he ses, turning to the chap. + +“‘Right-o,’ ses the young feller, turning away. ‘So long!’ + +“They stood peeping out of the doorway till he ’ad turned the corner, +and then they set off arter ’im. It was easy work in a way, ’cos he +never looked behind ’im; but ’e seemed to be fonder o’ walking than +wot they was, and besides, as Peter said, no doubt he had ’ad a good +brekfuss afore ’e started. + +“‘P’r’aps he ain’t going ’ome,’ ses Ginger, looking puzzled. ‘This is +the third time he ’as been in the Minories.’ + +“They followed ’im into Tower Street--it was on’y the second time they +’ad been there--and then to their thankfulness he turned into a pub. +They went in too--into another bar--and Ginger ’ad just ordered two +pints in a whisper, and paid for ’em, when the chap finished his beer +and walked out. Pore Ginger didn’t even ’ave time to taste ’is, and +the one mouthful Peter ’ad time to take went the wrong way. It was a +big mouthful, and for a couple o’ minutes he thought it was ’is last. +Then he got ’is breath back, and, arter asking the landlord whether he +thought ’e was beating carpets, went out to look for Ginger. He caught +’im up arter a time, and they went on walking till they felt ready to +drop. + +“‘I believe ’e knows we are follering ’im,’ ses Peter. + +“They went on for another ’arf hour, and then to Peter’s joy they +saw the chap, arter standing a long time looking at the things in a +cook-shop winder, go inside. + +“‘He’s going to ’ave his dinner,’ he ses, ‘and while he’s ’aving it +we’ll go and ’ave some bread and cheese and beer.’ + +“‘And suppose he slips out while we’re away?’ ses Ginger. + +“‘Well, we’ll go one at a time,’ ses Peter. + +“‘No, we won’t,’ ses Ginger. ‘I ain’t going to lose ’im arter all this +trouble, and when we _do_ find out where ’e lives I might want your +help.’ + +“They stood outside waiting for over a hour, and then the young feller +came out wiping his mouth on the back of his ’and. He stood for a +moment looking up and down the street till ’is eyes fell on Ginger, wot +was trying to get behind Peter, and Peter wot was trying to get behind +Ginger. + +“‘’Ullo,’ he ses, coming up. ‘Fancy dropping acrost you agin like this! +’Ave you been ’aving a little walk to stretch your legs?’ + +“‘Yes; and we ain’t finished yet,’ ses Ginger very fierce. + +“‘I’ll come with you, if you like,’ ses the chap. ‘I ain’t proud.’ + +“‘When we want your company we’ll ask you for it,’ ses Peter. + +“‘Don’t get cross,’ ses the young feller, pretending to shiver. ‘’Cos +if you do I might get frightened and _run_. Last time I was frightened +by a ugly face I run three miles without stopping.’ + +“He lit a fag and stood there with ’is eyes ’arf closed, blowing smoke +through ’is nose. Peter and Ginger stood there, waiting while ’e smoked +two of ’em, and then waited outside a tobacco-shop while ’e went in to +buy another packet. He got larky arter coming out, and when ’e tried to +strike a match on Ginger’s trowsis people ’ad to step off the pavement +’cos Ginger was using it all. + +“He moved off with Peter as he saw a policeman coming along, and then +to their surprise they found that the young feller was following +_them_. It upset their ideas altogether, and all of a sudden Ginger +stopped and turned on ’im. + +“‘Why don’t you go ’ome?’ he ses. + +“‘Wot’s the good without the money?’ ses the chap. ‘Wot’s the good of +going back and telling a starving old man in a tater-sack that his +pals won’t ’elp ’im?’ + +“‘Why can’t we take it to ’im?’ ses Peter. + +“‘He wouldn’t like it,’ ses the chap. ‘He said so. Besides, when you +got there you might try and get ’im out without paying.’ + +“‘Well, we’ll give you the money now, and then come with you,’ ses +Ginger. + +“‘Why couldn’t you say so afore?’ ses the other. ‘’Ere we’ve been +wasting the whole morning for nothing.’ + +“They all went into a pub and arter Ginger and Peter ’ad ’ad a pint or +two, and a crust o’ bread and cheese, Ginger handed over the money and +they all went out together, with the young man in the middle. Ginger’s +opinion of ’im went up as they walked along, and, when he led ’em into +another pub a little further on, and asked ’em wot they would ’ave, he +got to feel quite a liking for ’im. + +“They ’ad a pint each, and, while Peter was resting ’arf-way through +his, the young man thought ’e saw a spider drop into it. Ginger ’elped +Peter to look for it, but they couldn’t find it, and arter that they +wasted a lot of time looking for the young man, but they couldn’t find +’im neither. + +“‘If you’d kept your eye on ’im instead o’ fishing round in my beer +with your dirty finger, it ’ud ha’ been better,’ ses Peter. + +“They walked ’ome, quarrelling all the way, and then they sat indoors +all the evening waiting for Sam to turn up so as they could tell ’im +wot they thought of ’im. + +“They sat there till eleven o’clock, and then they went to bed +wondering wot had ’appened to ’im; and when they got up next morning +Ginger said he ’ad a feeling that they should never see ’im again. + +“‘He’s gorn where we’ve all got to go,’ he ses, shaking his ’ead. + +“‘Unless we join the Salvation Army,’ ses Peter. ‘There’s plenty o’ +time afore we get to his age.’ + +“‘He’s been made away with, that’s my opinion,’ ses Ginger. ‘We shall +never see ’im agin, any more than we shall see that monkey-faced chap +that gave us the slip yesterday.’ + +“They went downstairs to go out and get some brekfuss, and the very +fust thing they saw was the young feller, leaning up agin the wall, +smoking a fag. + +“‘’Ullo!’ he ses. ‘Did you find the spider?’ + +“Ginger couldn’t answer ’im for a minute. He stood there staring at him +as if he was a ghost. + +“‘Wot did you run off for?’ he ses, at last, growling at ’im. + +“‘Me?’ ses the other. ‘I didn’t run off. But I thought that if pore old +Sam ’ad to wait till you found that spider he’d never get ’is money.’ + +“‘Is he alive?’ ses Peter. + +“‘_Alive?_’ ses the young feller. ‘I on’y ’ope I shall be ’arf as +lively at ’is age as wot he is. I’ve got another letter for you.’ + +“He fished it out of ’is pocket and handed it to Ginger, and then stood +sucking his teeth and looking at the winder opposite while Ginger read +it. + +“It was a longer letter than the other. One thing was Sam called +’imself a silly fool two or three times over ’cos he ’ad gambled away +the five pounds. He wanted Ginger to send ’im the other three, and said +as ’ow he had ’ad awful bad luck, and never wanted to see a card agin +as long as ’e lived. He told Ginger to give the other three pounds to +’is friend Sid, wot took the five pounds, and said if they followed ’im +again he would never forgive ’im. + +“‘Fair old cough-drop, ain’t he?’ ses the young feller. + +“‘He’s fell into bad ’ands,’ ses Ginger, glaring at ’im. + +“‘That’s right,’ ses Sid, ‘and we’ve got to get ’im out. You find the +ready, and I’ll do the rest.’ + +“Ginger read the letter agin, arter Peter ’ad done with it, and then +’e told the chap to wait while he went indoors for the money. Wot ’e +really went indoors for was to tell the land-lady’s gal, a smart +little kid of eleven, as ’ad two bilious attacks a week reg’lar to stay +at ’ome and ’elp ’er mother, to foller Mr. Sid ’ome. + +“‘Here’s the three quid,’ ’e ses, coming out. ‘Take it and go.’ + +“‘And let’s ’ope he won’t lose that,’ ses Sid. ‘Are you coming to see +me as far as the--I mean, as far as you can?’ + +“‘I am not,’ ses Ginger. + +“‘Ah, well, I don’t blame you,’ ses Sid. ‘It’s a waste of your time and +mine too, ain’t it? The last chap that tried to foller me ’ome seemed +to think I lived in the canal. I never see a chap make ’imself so wet.’ + +“He gave Peter a playful little tap in the stummick, and, arter asking +Ginger for a lock of ’is ’air to frighten the gals with, went off +whistling. And he had ’ardly turned the corner afore the little gal was +arter ’im. + +“By the time Peter and Ginger was back from their brekfuss she was ’ome +agin, ’aving follered the young man to his ’ouse, and seen ’im go +inside. He didn’t seem to ’ave any idea that ’e was being follered; and +Ginger was so pleased with ’imself and ’is cleverness that Peter ’ad to +remind ’im of all sorts of things he didn’t want to be reminded of. + +“They waited in for some time to see if Sam came ’ome, but there was no +sign of ’im, and Ginger began to wonder whether he ’ad lost the three +quid as well as the five. + +“‘We’ll give ’im till eight o’clock,’ he ses. ‘And if he ain’t ’ome by +then we’ll go round and fetch ’im.’ + +“‘It’s my belief they won’t let ’im go,’ ses Peter. + +“‘Or p’r’aps he’s lost ’is trowsis agin,’ ses Ginger. ‘We’ll take his +other pair with us in case. And we’ll get one or two to come with us to +see fair play.’ + +“They picked up a couple o’ firemen they knew, that arternoon. +Stiff-built chaps they was, and always ready for a bit of trouble, +’aving both ’ad Irish mothers. They ’ad a few drinks to steady +themselves, and then one of ’em, Bob Mills by name, got so upset +because Ginger said he thought it ’ud be better not to burn the ’ouse +down, that it took three men and the landlord to get ’im outside. + +“They went ’ome fust to see whether Sam ’ad turned up, and then, arter +waking Bob, who ’ad gorn to sleep in Peter’s bed, they set off to find +’im. It was a tall, dirty house, just off the ’Ighway, and Ginger began +to think that if they got Sam out in one piece they’d be lucky. The +front-door was open and a lot o’ dirty-looking kids was playing on the +steps. + +“‘It’s like a bee-hive,’ ses Peter. ‘He’ll take some finding.’ + +“‘I’ll find ’im,’ ses Bob, spitting on ’is hands. ‘Come along.’ + +He led them up the steps and opened the fust door ’e come to as bold as +brass, and popped his ’ead in. + +“‘Where’s old Sam?’ he ses, to a woman wot left off washing ’er baby to +stare at ’im. ‘Wot ’ave you done with ’im?’ + +[Illustration: “‘WHERE’S OLD SAM?’ HE SES, TO A WOMAN WOT LEFT OFF +WASHING ’ER BABY TO STARE AT ’IM. ‘WOT ’AVE YOU DONE WITH ’IM?’”] + +“‘_Wot?_’ ses the woman. + +“‘We want Mr. Sam Small,’ ses Ginger, putting ’is head over Bob’s +shoulders. + +“‘Wot ’ave you done with ’im?’ ses Bob agin. + +“‘Me?’ ses the woman. ‘Wot are you talking about? ’Ow dare you come +shoving your ugly mug into a lady’s room and try and take away ’er +character? Wot d’ye mean by it?’ + +“She put the baby down on the floor very careful and took up the basin +o’ water. It was a small basin, but the water showed that the baby +’adn’t been washed afore it wanted it, and Bob Mills was out o’ that +room afore you could say ‘knife.’ + +“‘He ain’t there,’ he ses, as the door banged be’ind ’im. ‘It’s a funny +thing a woman can never answer a civil question without losing ’er +temper. If I ’adn’t kept my eye on ’er I should have ’ad that water +over me.’ + +“‘They don’t use their reason,’ ses Ginger, shaking his ’ead, and +stopping at the next door to let ’im go in fust. + +“There was nobody in that room except a little gal of ten putting ’er +little brothers to bed, and the way she carried on when Bob looked in +would ha’ done credit to a woman of seventy. He came out gasping for +breath. + +“‘I’ll find ’im though,’ he ses to Ginger. ‘I’ll find ’im, if I ’ave to +take all the boards up. Now wot about trying upstairs?’ + +“There was two families in the fust room they went in, and they was +both worse than each other. People came out of their rooms to listen, +and the way they carried on when Ginger and ’is pals paid _them_ a +visit won’t bear repeating. By the time they ’ad got to the second +floor the whole ’ouse was roused and standing behind and offering to +fight ’em. + +“Bob and ’is pal went into the fust room on that floor alone, ’cos +Ginger and Peter ’ad to stay outside on the landing to keep the crowd +back. ’Ard work it was, too; one young woman trying to bore holes in +Peter with a broom-’andle, while a dirty hand with a wedding-ring on it +kept coming out of the crowd and pinching pore Ginger black and blue. + +“In the middle of it there was a hullabaloo in that room that made +’em all leave off to listen. Deafening it was. People shouting and +struggling and things toppling about all over the place. Then Bob +and ’is mate came out carrying something that looked like a mad lion +wrapped up in a blanket. + +“‘He was in bed, asleep,’ ses Bob, panting, as a couple o’ naked legs +shot out and kicked anything they could find. ‘Pull your end o’ the +blanket down, Joe.’ + +“‘Wot’s he done?’ ses a woman, gaping at them. + +“‘Wot ’ave you done, you mean,’ ses Bob, struggling. ‘He’s been +kidnapped.’ + +“‘And robbed,’ ses Ginger, shouting with pain, as ’e got another pinch. + +“‘It’s all right, Sam, old man,’ ses Peter, pulling back the blanket to +give ’im a little air. ‘Now--Lor’ lumme _this ain’t Sam_!’ + +“They all started, and Bob was so surprised that he let go of ’is end. +It was the ’ead end and the langwidge the old man it belonged to used +was awful. Then ’e got up very slow, and, arter feeling his ’ead and +using some more langwidge about a bump ’e found there, knocked Bob down. + +“In two twos they was all at it; the men fighting and the women +screaming. Men Ginger hadn’t seen afore seemed to turn up from nowhere +to punch ’im. The four of ’em kept together as well as they could, +and even when Ginger got to the bottom of the stairs ’e found the +other three on top of ’im. They got outside at last, helped be’ind by +the people in the ’ouse, and didn’t stop for breath till they was two +streets away. Bob Mills found ’is fust, and pretty near got run in for +it. + +“‘I ought to take you by rights,’ ses the policeman. ‘Wot ’ave you been +doing to your face? Treading on it?’ + +“Bob was going to answer ’im, but Ginger got ’is ’and over ’is mouth +just in time. + +“‘It’s all right, sir, he ses, very perlite, ‘he’s on’y a little bit +excited. Come on, Bob.’ + +“They managed to get ’im round the corner, and then ’e shook ’em off +and said he never wanted to see ’em agin. He went off with ’is mate, +and Peter and Ginger, arter being refused at three pubs because of +their looks, sent a young feller in for a bottle o’ whisky to take ’ome +with them. + +“They ’ad a drop or two when they got indoors, and then they got a bit +o’ rag and some cold water and began to see wot they could do for +their faces. + +“‘And this is all through Sam,’ ses Ginger, starting to grind ’is teeth +and then finding they was too loose to grind. + +“‘It’s a mystery,’ ses Peter, who was sitting on Sam’s bed ’olding a +wet rag to his eye. ‘I believe you was right, Ginger. Something seems +to tell me we shall never see ’im agin.’ + +“Ginger said he didn’t want to. His mouth was so sore ’e couldn’t +smoke, and arter another drop or two o’ whisky, ’e said ’e was going to +bed. + +“He undressed ’imself very slow, grunting and groaning all the time, +and was just getting into bed when Peter ’eld up ’is ’and. + +“‘Somebody’s coming upstairs,’ he ses. + +“‘Let ’em come,’ ses Ginger, very grumpy. + +“‘It--it can’t be Sam!’ ses Peter. + +“‘Sounds like ’im,’ ses Ginger, staring. It is ’im,’ he ses, as they +both ’eard a noise that Sam used to make when ’e thought ’e was singing. + +“They stood staring at the door as it opened and Sam came into the +room, looking very bright and pleased with ’imself. + +[Illustration: “SAM CAME INTO THE ROOM LOOKING VERY BRIGHT AND PLEASED +WITH ’IMSELF.”] + +“‘’Ullo, mates!’ he ses. ‘Why--wot the--Wot ’ave you been doing to +yourselves?’ + +“He shook his ’ead, and screwed up ’is lips at ’em. + +“‘It’s a funny thing I can’t go away for a day or two without you +getting into trouble,’ he ses. ‘’Tain’t respectable.’ + +“‘Ho!’ ses Ginger, finding ’is voice. ‘Ho, indeed. This is all the +thanks we get for trying to ’elp you, is it? I s’pose you think it’s +more respectable to lose your trowsis at cards and play in your shirt.’ + +“‘And a tater-sack,’ ses Peter. + +“‘Trowsis!’ ses Sam, staring at ’em, ‘tater-sack! ’Ave you been +drinking? or wot?’ + +“Ginger looked at Peter and then ’e looked very ’ard at Sam. + +“‘Where--’ave--you--been?’ he ses, very slow and distinct. + +“‘Been staying with a chap at Stratford,’ ses Sam, ’elping ’imself to +a drink. ‘My friend Sid told me as he’d ’eard the police was arter me +for gambling, so I’ve been staying with a pal of ’is for a few days to +let it blow over.’ + +“‘And--and didn’t you write to us?’ ses Ginger, as soon as he could +speak. + +“‘Why, wot should I want to write to you for?’ ses Sam, putting down +’is glass. + +“‘Money,’ ses Ginger, looking ’im straight in the eye. + +“Sam shook his ’ead, ‘I ’ad enough on me,’ he ses, ‘but it was just as +well I left that eight quid with you, Ginger. It might ’ave gorn if I +’adn’t. Wot was it you was saying about trowsis and tater-sacks, Peter?’ + +“‘It’s a joke of your friend, Sid’s,’ ses Ginger. ‘Ask him to tell it +to you; you seem to tell _’im_ everything.’ + + * * * * * + +“Him and Peter woke up at five o’clock next morning to go and look for +fresh lodgings. Sam didn’t wake up till eight, and then, arter reading +a couple o’ letters ’e found tucked under ’is chin, he went off without +any brekfuss to look for Ginger and Peter, and Sid, and eight quid.” + + + + +Handsome Harry + + +“He’s a bit of all right,” said Mr. Joe Gossett, interrupting his +description of the new foreman, with a large wedge of bread and cheese. + +His sister sniffed. “Fancy a man being called ‘Handsome Harry’! _Pff!_” + +“He can’t ’elp what people call him,” said Mr. Gossett, “and if you was +to see him you’d understand it. Five foot eleven, dark-blue eyes, good +teeth, and the finest short beard I ever saw in my life. All brown and +gold it is. How he’s escaped, I don’t know.” + +“Escaped!” repeated his sister, in a shrewish voice. + +Mr. Gossett nodded. + +“Poor dear!” said Miss Gossett, quivering. + +“After him like flies round a treacle-pot,” continued her brother. +“I’ve been with ’im and I ought to know.” + +“P’r’aps _you_ was the attraction,” said his mother, archly. + +Mr. Gossett sniffed, but not so loudly as his sister. + +“I don’t hold with handsome men,” said Mrs. Gossett, shaking her head. +“Nobody could say that I married your pore father for his good looks. +His----” + +“Where did I get mine from, then?” interrupted Miss Gossett. + +“My side of the family,” replied her mother, modestly. “You was a +Smithson and Joe was a Gossett.” + +“If the Smithsons hadn’t got more good looks than what Mabel has----” +began the indignant Mr. Gossett. + +“What a pair we should make,” said Miss Gossett, with a simper, “me and +Handsome Harry! Bring him in one evening and let’s have a look at him, +Joe. What’s his other name? If it isn’t nice I shan’t have him.” + +“His name’s Cook,” said her brother, “and as for you catching him, +why, he’d laugh at the idea.” + +“Bring him in and let’s have a look at him,” repeated his sister, “then +perhaps I’ll ask Florrie Adams in one evening. I’ll tell her you’ll be +out.” + +“Oh, don’t tease him,” said Mrs. Gossett. + +“Tease him?” said the irritated Mr. Gossett, pushing his chair away and +rising. “Don’t make me laugh. It’s a pity Mabel ain’t got more sense, +that’s all.” + +“Pity you ain’t a Smithson,” said Miss Gossett, as he went outside for +his hat. “You might have a chance then.” + +He closed the street door with a bang that sent a revivifying draught +of fresh air through the small house, and, somewhat ruffled in spirit, +set off at a smart pace down the road. The subject of Miss Adams was +a sore one, the slavish admiration of some months having yielded, +so far, nothing but amusement in return. A brotherly desire to give +Miss Gossett some idea of the pangs of unrequited affection sent his +thoughts again to the fascinations of Handsome Harry. + +He turned the matter over in his mind for a day or two, and resolved at +last to introduce his friend casually. If Miss Gossett were taken at +a disadvantage, so much the better; he was not going to give her the +chance of “window-dressing.” + +His trouble was wasted. The night he introduced Mr. Cook his sister +had just returned from the local cinema accompanied by Miss Adams, +and the first impression the visitor received was of fine clothes and +languorous perfumes. In the best manner of the highest circles both +girls seemed to sit aloof, with little interests of their own. Little +intimate jests and giggles testified to their complete absorption. + +“Good show?” inquired Mr. Gossett, in an interval. + +“Pretty fair,” said his sister, languidly. “Leonard Firebrace was on.” + +“He’s a darling,” said Miss Adams, clasping her hands enthusiastically. + +Messrs. Gossett and Cook said “_H’m!_” to each other. + +“Supposed to be the handsomest man on the films,” said Miss Gossett. + +Mr. Cook stroked his short, well-trimmed beard and gave a finer point +to the ends of his moustache. “What’s he like?” he inquired, in an +indulgent voice. + +“Like a Greek god,” replied Miss Gossett, quoting from a story in her +favourite periodical. + +“Straight nose, well-shaped mouth, and wonderful eyes,” explained Miss +Adams. + +“You only see men like that at the Pictures, and in dreams,” said her +friend, with a sigh. “Think of his teeth!” + +Miss Adams thought of them, and sighed in her turn. Mr. Gossett and Mr. +Cook stirred restlessly. The latter even ventured on a cough; a cough +more than tinged with criticism. Under the calm, straight gaze of Miss +Gossett it repeated itself--with a different note, and subsided. + +“I must say,” remarked that lady, turning to her friend, “that I like +to see good looks in a fellow. Joe!” + +“Hallo!” replied her brother. + +“Who is that good-looking man you were talking about the other day? One +of your foremen, or something?” + +Mr. Gossett gasped, and sent a wireless message with his eyebrows. + +“Man you call Pretty Bertie,” continued his sister, ignoring it. “No, +that isn’t it.” + +“Have you gone dotty?” inquired the embarrassed Mr. Gossett, in a gruff +voice. + +“Or was it Lovely Charlie?” said his sister, musing. “No, I +remember--Handsome Harry. That’s the name. Why don’t you bring him in +one day and let’s have a look at him?” + +“Do,” urged Miss Adams. + +“If he’s only half as good-looking as what you say he is we might fall +in love with him,” said Miss Gossett. + +[Illustration: “IF HE’S ONLY HALF AS GOOD LOOKING AS WHAT YOU SAY HE IS +WE MIGHT FALL IN LOVE WITH HIM.”] + +Her brother eyed her helplessly, while Mr. Cook, with an air of pained +surprise, sat awaiting the inevitable explanation. + +“That’s him,” said Mr. Gossett at last, with a jerk of the head. “Where +are your eyes?” + +“Him? Who?” inquired his sister. + +“Handsome Harry,” replied her brother. “I told you his name was Cook.” + +Miss Gossett threw back her head and laughed till the tears came. +“Don’t be so silly,” she said, wiping her eyes. + +“How can you?” said Miss Adams. + +“It’s only one of Joe’s larks,” said Miss Gossett, turning to the +goggle-eyed Mr. Cook. “You mustn’t take any notice of him. The idea of +him pretending you are Handsome Harry.” + +“As if we shouldn’t have noticed it,” murmured Miss Adams. + +Mr. Cook turned his troubled gaze upon his friend in a mute appeal for +help, but Mr. Gossett’s face was as bewildered as his own. + +“It’s a name that some of them have given him,” said Mr. Gossett at +last, in a surly voice. + +“How rude of them!” said his sister, severely. “I shouldn’t take any +notice of them if I were you, Mr. Cook. But I must say I should like to +see the real one.” + +Mr. Cook gave it up. It struck him that the explanation might lie in +defective eyesight, and he recalled the story of a man who took to +spectacles, and ran away from his wife a week afterwards. + +A feeling of regret that so pretty a girl might have to take to glasses +imparted a tenderness to his glance that was by no means wasted. Miss +Gossett, lowering her eyes at first under the onslaught, ventured after +a time to raise them and meet it. The gentle timidity of her glance +did much to restore Mr. Cook’s self-esteem. In the language of the +eyes long practice had made him almost perfect, and his gaze became so +ardent and so confident that Miss Gossett was moved to speech. + +“What’s the matter?” she demanded. + +“Matter?” repeated Mr. Cook, in surprise. + +“You seemed to be staring in a funny sort of way,” said the girl. “You +don’t have fits, do you?” + +“No,” said Mr. Cook shortly. + +“Funny look he had,” said Miss Gossett, turning to the others. “I +didn’t like it at all. I suppose you haven’t got anything in your eye, +Mr. Cook? I’m a dab at taking things out.” + +Mr. Cook hesitated, and was lost. “I did get something in coming +along,” he murmured, “but I thought it was out.” + +He smiled with content as the ministering angel leaned over him and +prised up the lid with her finger. Then he winced and drew back his +head. + +“Keep still,” said the girl; “I’m not hurting you.” + +“Not much,” corrected the victim. “_Ow!_” + +“It’s funny men can’t bear a little bit of pain,” observed Miss +Gossett, continuing her explorations. “There! I nearly had it then.” + +“Perhaps it’ll work itself out,” suggested Mr. Cook, wincing again. + +“I’ll have it out if you’ll only keep still,” said Miss Gossett. +“Anybody would think I was hurting you.” + +Mr. Cook drew his head back with a sudden exclamation of pain. “What +have you got?” he inquired, hoarsely; “a scrubbing brush?” + +“Don’t be silly,” said the girl, as the sufferer clapped a handkerchief +to his streaming eyes. + +“It’s out,” he said, in a voice which endeavoured in vain to express +surprise and gratitude. “It’s out.” + +“I knew I could do it,” said Miss Gossett. “I could have done it sooner +if you hadn’t flinched so much.” + +“My eyes are very tender,” said Mr. Cook. + +“That’s what I thought a few minutes ago,” said the girl, “but perhaps +you’ll grow out of it. Let’s hope so.” + +“It’s never too late to mend,” observed Miss Adams oracularly. + +Mr. Cook arose in dignified silence and, with a final dab at his eyes, +restored his handkerchief to his pocket and announced that he must +be going. At Miss Adams’s suggestion, Mr. Gossett, rising with some +unwillingness, offered to accompany him. + +“Me and Mabel want to have a little chat,” said Miss Adams, in +explanation. + +“All by ourselves,” added Miss Gossett. + +Agreeable to this strange lack of taste on the part of the ladies +the gentlemen withdrew, Mr. Cook, to whom this sort of treatment +was absolutely new, walking out of the house like a man in a dream. +Memories of countless conquests stirred in his brain but yielded no +satisfaction. + +“Very off-handish, ain’t she?” he said at last. + +“She learns it from Mabel,” said his friend. “They’re as thick as two +thieves.” + +“I mean your sister,” said Mr. Cook. + +“Oh!” replied Mr. Gossett. “Her!” + +“She’s very nice-looking,” said Mr. Cook, after a long pause. + +“She seems to make people think so,” said the fond brother. “How she +does it, I don’t know. I’m as good a judge as most men, but I can’t see +it.” + +“Well, you can take it from me,” said the other, impressively, “that +she is about the best-looking girl I have ever seen. She’s your +step-sister, isn’t she?” + +“Step-sister?” repeated Mr. Gossett, with surprising vehemence. “No, of +course she ain’t. What ever put that into your head?” + +“I don’t know,” said Mr. Cook hurriedly. “I spoke without thinking. Of +course there’s a great likeness; anybody could see that.” + +The indignant Mr. Gossett received the assurance with a grunt, and +listened in amazed silence while his friend explained to him in +enraptured terms the manifold perfections of his sister. + +“But you hadn’t seen her till an hour ago!” he protested. + +“I shall have to make up for lost time,” said Mr. Cook, earnestly. +“What about to-morrow night?” + +Mr. Gossett said there was nothing about it, and declined in the most +unmistakable terms to have anything to do with the affair. + +“She’d only make fun of you,” he said, severely. “You ought to have +seen her face when she was messing about with your eye.” + +Mr. Cook said he _had_ seen it, and smacked his lips. + +“And she’ll do worse than that if you don’t let ’er alone,” continued +Mr. Gossett. “Why, there was one silly fellow that used to come after +her, and she led ’im such a dance that he went away and joined the +Army.” + +“Very good place for him,” said Mr. Cook approvingly. “Besides, we must +have soldiers.” + +“When I took you round I thought you would have learnt ’er a lesson,” +said his friend; “instead of that you’re worse than any of ’em. It +makes _me_ look such a fool. I expect she’s talking about you now and +laughing fit to kill herself.” + +“She’s got a pretty laugh,” said the other, with a tender smile. “I +could listen to it all day.” + +He heard it a night or two later, when, failing his utmost efforts +to obtain an invitation from Mr. Gossett, he called without one, +apparently for the purpose of telling Miss Gossett that it was a fine +evening, but that a little rain would do good. After which effort he +sat and watched Miss Gossett gurgling foolishly into her handkerchief. + +“Don’t take no notice of her,” said Mrs. Gossett, somewhat disturbed. + +“I like it,” replied Mr. Cook, simply. + +“Sounds silly to me,” said Mrs. Gossett, shaking her head at her +daughter. + +“That’s why I like it,” said Mr. Cook, floundering. “I like silly +people.” + +Miss Gossett’s laughter ended abruptly. + +“Did you come to see Joe?” she inquired, with some austerity. + +Mr. Cook shook his head. + +“What did you come for, then?” + +The visitor looked imploringly at Mrs. Gossett, but seeing no help +there turned to the daughter. “I came to tell you my eye is all right +now,” he said, slowly. “I thought you’d like to know.” + +Miss Gossett gazed at him, deep in thought “Will you be able to see +your way home with it?” she said at last, in a soft voice. + +The visitor became thoughtful in his turn. “Perhaps--perhaps it would +be safer if somebody--somebody came with me,” he murmured. + +Miss Gossett nodded. “Ye-es,” she said, softly. “Yes, I think it would. +Can you give me a couple of minutes?” + +Mr. Cook, flushing with joy, said that he could, and, hardly able to +believe in his good fortune, bestowed a half-wink upon Mrs. Gossett as +her daughter left the room. + +“Gone up to put her hat on?” he inquired, in a low voice. + +“P’r’aps,” said the surprised Mrs. Gossett, “and p’r’aps not,” she +added. “If I don’t expect her to do a thing, she does it, and if I +expect her to do a thing she don’t do it. That’s Mabel.” + +Mr. Cook shook his head gently in sympathy. Then he prepared to rise as +Miss Gossett entered the room followed by a small and extremely dirty +youth in patched knickerbockers. + +“This is Tommy Burrows, from next door,” she said. + +Mr. Cook nodded--and waited. + +“By good luck, he happened to be in,” continued the girl. “This is the +poor gentleman, Tommy, and if you lead him safe home he will give you +a shilling. You had better hold his sleeve. And mind how you cross the +roads.” + +She stood smiling benevolently as Master Burrows, in pursuance of his +instructions, took the dazed and speechless Mr. Cook by the sleeve and +piloted him carefully from the room. At the street-door he paused and +strove to collect his scattered faculties. + +“Good-bye,” said Miss Gossett, brightly. + +The unfortunate gasped at her, and then, obedient to a tug at his +sleeve, moved slowly off. The laugh that he had so much admired was +heard again, but some of its savour seemed to have departed. It was +clear that he had lost the first two rounds, and, with a faint hope +that Tommy’s mother might have something to say to Miss Gossett on the +subject, he took that hapless youth ten miles for the shilling. By the +next morning he had recovered his spirits and the vitriolic scorn of +Joe Gossett passed him harmlessly by. It appeared that Miss Gossett had +persisted in regarding her brother as privy to the visit and chose to +include him as a victim of her cleverness. + +“That’s all right,” said Mr. Cook equably. “You shall have the laugh of +her by and by.” + +“When?” demanded the unbeliever. + +“When I marry her,” was the reply. + +Mr. Gossett turned and regarded his friend in amazement. “Have you gone +silly or what?” he inquired huskily. + +“There’s nothing to go silly about,” responded Mr. Cook. “I’ve thought +all along I should be caught some time. She’s got me hard and fast, +and the funny thing is, I don’t mind. I like it.” + +“But she won’t have you,” objected the staring Mr. Gossett. “She +wouldn’t look at you.” + +“You tell her I’m going to marry her,” said Mr. Cook. “Tell her I’m +going to marry her, and the sooner she makes up her mind to it the +better.” + +Mr. Gossett took the message. The one he brought back next day lost +nothing in transit. + +“So there you are,” he said, grinning. “She says she wouldn’t have you +if you were the only man in the world.” + +“She couldn’t,” said the philosophical Mr. Cook; “there’d be too many +after me.” He called next evening and, Miss Gossett being out, left a +little bunch of flowers he had hidden beneath his coat. Mr. Gossett +brought back the withered remains next day. A large and expensive box +of chocolates left two days later was returned empty, but any comfort +Mr. Cook might have derived from the fact vanished when he heard that +it had accompanied Mr. Gossett and Miss Adams to the cinema. + +“She ate the chocs with one hand while I held the other,” explained Mr. +Gossett. “Try Mabel with another box to-night, old man.” + +Mr. Cook, intent upon what he now considered would be a long campaign, +made no reply. Despite his utmost efforts he was unable to obtain +speech with Miss Gossett, and a letter, sent through the post, was +returned marked, “Opened by mistake.” Assailed by doubts, only his +looking-glass convinced him that he held a winning hand. He called +again, and spent three hours of mutual boredom with Mrs. Gossett, while +Miss Gossett sat upstairs in her bedroom, blaspheming. + +“It’s the only way to treat ’em,” he said to Mr. Gossett, when that +gentleman remonstrated. “Show ’em you ain’t afraid of ’em and they come +to heel.” + +“And what about my poor mother?” demanded his friend hotly. “She +’ad you all last evening, talking about the weather, and Mabel all +breakfast time talking about hairdressers’ blocks and tailors’ dummies. +Don’t you come again.” + +“Not till next time,” said the other calmly. + +As a matter of good-feeling and policy combined he decided to let a few +days lapse before calling again. A slight swelling and soreness in the +neck attributed to a tooth which had been troubling him for some time +led to a still further delay. The distortion of face was especially +trying to a man of his appearance, and, after enduring for two days the +glances of his fellow-workers and the ribaldries of Mr. Gossett, he +stayed away from pork. + +He sat at home next day with his head wrapped in a shawl. Dainties, +as conceived by his landlady for an invalid, remained untouched. And +he was in the depths of misery when the door opened and Mr. Gossett +stepped blithely in. + +“Jee-rusalem!” said that gentleman. + +Mr. Cook tried to smile, and Mr. Gossett retreated a couple of paces, +and placed his hand on the door-knob. + +“Why don’t you ’ave the tooth out?” he demanded. + +“When--swelling--goes--down,” croaked the invalid. + +Mr. Gossett looked at him and hesitated. “Mabel wants you to come to +supper,” he said at last. “She sent me to ask you.” + +There was a long pause. + +“You--told--her--’bout this,” said Mr. Cook, “and she wants--to +make--fun of me.” + +Mr. Gossett coughed. + +“All right,” said the other, “I’ll come. I don’t mind if she does +laugh.” + +Fortunately, as Mr. Gossett observed, it was getting dark, and Mr. +Cook’s features attracted no attention. A little natural reluctance to +enter the sitting-room gave way before a hearty push from his companion. + +“It is good of you to come,” said Miss Gossett, her lips trembling. + +“You--asked me,” said Mr. Cook, speaking slowly and painfully from one +side of his mouth. “And I came--because--you thought--I wouldn’t.” + +“Don’t take no notice of her,” said Mrs. Gossett “For shame, Mabel,” +she added. + +“I ca-can’t help it,” said her daughter, wiping her eyes. “He--looks so +plump and well-fed.” + +“He looks ill,” said Mrs. Gossett severely. “Have you seen a doctor?” + +Mr. Cook said he didn’t believe in doctors, and, turning a deaf ear +to the misbehaviour of Miss Gossett, took the seat next to her at the +supper-table and sat gloomily eyeing food he was unable to eat. By an +effort he managed to sip a little beer, and, at Miss Gossett’s earnest +entreaty, ate a small quantity of rice pudding from a salt-spoon. The +fact that she fed him with the first two mouthfuls atoned for much. + +“Pity Florrie couldn’t come to supper,” said Miss Gossett, turning to +her brother. + +“She’ll be here soon, I expect,” he answered. “She ’ad an appointment, +but she said she’d be sure to come if she could. There she is, I think.” + +Rapid steps paused at the door, followed by a knock which Mr. Gossett +hastened to answer. Voices sounded in the narrow passage. + +“Come in, Florrie,” cried Miss Gossett. “Handsome Harry is here.” + +Miss Adams came in, with a broad smile revealing white teeth. Then her +eyes dilated, and uttering a piercing shriek she fell back into the +passage. + +“Don’t be silly,” cried the highly-gratified Miss Gossett; “he’s quite +harmless.” + +There was a smothered exclamation from Miss Adams, followed by the +sound of the opening of the street-door. + +“It’s too bad,” said Mrs. Gossett. “Mabel, I won’t have it.” + +The voice of Miss Adams was heard outside. + +“He ought to be shut up,” she exclaimed in piercing tones, “or boiled,” +she added. “If I catch ’em, I’ll never speak to you again.” + +“Catch what?” demanded the harassed Mr. Gossett. + +The reply set the party in the parlour tingling. + +“_Mumps_,” she said viciously. “As if you didn’t know.” + +The grating of Miss Gossett’s chair as she pushed it back broke the +silence. + +“Mumps!” she wailed; “mumps! and I’ve been sitting next to him.” + +“And feeding him,” added Mr. Cook gloomily. “Well! well! Fancy--its +being mumps--all the time. And at--my age too. I thought----” + +He finished speaking to an empty room. The ladies were upstairs +and, judging by the noise, somewhat perturbed. The voice of Mr. +Gossett--from the landing--bade him begone. He returned to work nearly +three weeks later. + +Mr. Gossett was not there, and the voice of envy declared that five +other gentlemen were also staying at home in sinful luxury with the +mumps. + +He went round to call the same evening, and asked for news of Joe. + +“They’ve both got it,” said Mrs. Gossett, in a tired voice. “Poor +Mabel! you ought to see her.” + +“I will,” said Mr. Cook, stepping inside. “Can you send her down?” + +Mrs. Gossett smiled faintly. “She wouldn’t let anybody see her for a +thousand pounds,” she declared. “I don’t think her face will ever get +right again. It’s like a piller.” + +Mr. Cook, walking to the foot of the stairs, raised his voice and +called loudly upon the name of Miss Gossett. A door opened softly and a +strange, cracked voice told him to go away. + +“I want to see you,” he answered. + +“Go away,” repeated the girl. + +“I came to see you when I had ’em,” said Mr. Cook. “Now I dare you to +come down and see me. If you haven’t got the pluck, say so.” + +“Go away--you brute!” said the voice. + +“Don’t be a coward,” urged Mr. Cook. “Surely you ain’t going to be +outdone by me. I’ll wait in the parlour for you. Be a sportsman.” + +He waited five minutes. A halting step sounded from the stairs, and +a little later the door opened and a disfigured and indignant Miss +Gossett entered the room and stood glowering at him. + +“Poor old thing,” he said tenderly. + +“You gave me this,” she said fiercely. + +Mr. Cook shook his head. “You took it,” he corrected gently. He placed +his arm suddenly around her waist, and, choosing her forehead as the +point of least resistance, kissed it ardently. + +“It’ll soon go away,” he said cheerfully. “In about ten days’ time we +shall be the best-looking couple in the neighbourhood.” + + + + +The Blindness of Captain Ferguson + + +I + +From outside the house looked desolate enough. It stood alone where the +grass of the marshes met the sand of the shore. On one side a view of +marsh and cattle, dykes and gates, on the other the waters of the North +Sea. + +Inside, in the cosy sitting-room, the Captain sat and fumed. The fire +was burning low and he had mislaid his pipe, while his wife, to whom he +usually looked to adjust these matters, was upstairs with the sick girl +from London, who had come home in search of rest and health. + +“The women are all alike,” grumbled the Captain, as he rose and felt +cautiously along the mantelshelf for the missing pipe, “gossiping as +usual.” + +His fumbling hands struck against a china shepherdess and wrecked her +on the fender, for blindness had come upon him late in life and his +huge gnarled fists lacked the touch usually associated with those who +have lost their sight. With a rueful grumble he sank back into his +chair again as his wife entered the room. + +“Jenny, I’ve smashed something,” said the offender humbly. “I was +looking for my pipe.” + +“Here’s your pipe, Jem,” she replied, as she thrust it into his hands. +“I must leave you a little while longer. Edith is not quite so well.” + +“I’ll come up and talk to her,” said the Captain, with the air of one +who possessed a sovereign remedy. + +“No, you mustn’t,” said his wife, pushing his great form back into the +chair, “she’s not well enough to talk much. I’ll be back soon.” + +[Illustration: “NO, YOU MUSTN’T,” SAID HIS WIFE, PUSHING HIS GREAT FORM +BACK INTO THE CHAIR.] + +The Captain, impelled by that small but resolute arm, stayed where he +had fallen, and lighting his pipe fell to smoking with much enjoyment, +listening to the beating of the surf and the wind, which was blowing +almost a gale. The combination was so soothing that he fell asleep at +length with the pipe between his teeth. + +He awoke with a start and a vague confused idea that somebody had +called him. Certainly a cry of some sort still rang in his ears, and +placing his pipe on the table, he rose and stood with one hand on the +back of his chair listening. At first only the wind and the surf, then +mixed with it the faint wailing of a child. The Captain felt his way to +the door and called excitedly to his wife. + +“Jenny! Jenny!” + +“All right, go back,” called his wife quickly, from the top of the +stairs. “I’m coming down now.” + +“I heard a cry outside,” said the Captain. “The cry of a child.” + +“Nonsense, you’ve been dreaming.” + +“I tell you I heard it,” repeated the Captain, as he threw open the +house door. “Listen!” + +“There!” said the Captain, holding up a warning finger. “I heard it +again.” + +“So did I,” said his wife. “It’s outside.” + +“Get a shawl and come after me, my lass,” said the Captain, taking down +a coil of line made fast to the staple of the door, which he used for +short wanderings. “Hallo, there! Hallo!” + +He walked slowly in the darkness, listening eagerly while his wife +turned her white face upwards and in broken accents thanked Heaven for +her husband’s blindness. Then she came downstairs, and with the agility +of a girl ran by her husband. + +The Captain paying out his line, and treading softly, heard her stop +and cry out suddenly, and then, with an indistinct cry to him, speed +back to the house. + +“I’ve got it,” she cried. “I’ve got it.” + +He turned and followed rapidly. Inside he closed the door and stood in +the hall listening to the crying of a child, which now sounded through +the house, and the hurried footsteps of his wife as she moved about in +the room above. + +“It’s a baby, Jim,” said his wife, coming half-way down the stairs and +closely watching her husband’s face as it showed in the light from the +sitting-room. “Just a little child, wrapped in an old shawl and left to +die. Only a few days old, by the look of it.” + +“Ay, ay,” said the Captain, very slowly. “Go upstairs, my dear. Go +upstairs.” + +He turned and, closing the door after him, groped his way back to his +chair, leaving his wife, after a moment’s irresolution, to do his +bidding. The fire was out and the room chill before she came down +again, and the tears sprang to her tired eyes as she saw the strong, +helpless man patiently awaiting her return. + +“How’s Edith?” he asked, without turning his head. + +“She’s not very well, I think,” said his wife, in a low, frightened +voice, “but she has just fallen asleep. I don’t think I’d disturb her +to-night, Jim, if I were you.” + +“I won’t,” said the Captain quietly. “I’ll get to bed, too, I think. +Good-night.” + +He went slowly up the stairs and into his room, his wife following him +noiselessly, and not until the door had closed behind him did she relax +her watchfulness; then, in a dazed condition, she made her way to her +daughter and fell half-fainting across her bed. + +In the morning, in the cool salt air and the sunshine, her flagging +spirits revived and she greeted her husband in almost her usual cheery +fashion as he came in from his tethered walk along the shore to +breakfast. + +“Edith not coming down?” he inquired, as he took his seat at the table. + +“Not to breakfast,” she replied, watching him. + +“Best not, if she doesn’t feel strong,” said the Captain briskly. “I’ve +been thinking about that child.” + +“Ah,” said his wife, and the cup she was passing him rattled in the +saucer. + +“If nobody claims it,” continued the Captain, “take it up to London +and let old Sparling’s widow have it. She’ll take it if we pay her. I +suppose we can’t send it to the workhouse?” + +“We can’t keep it?” suggested his wife timidly. + +“No,” said the Captain, with a mirthless laugh, “we’re too old to be +plagued with children.” + +His wife said no more, but later in the morning informed him that she +had written to London to make arrangements, and that Edith would not be +up that day, but would come down the next. + +More than a week, however, elapsed before she put in an appearance, +and then very pale and trembling she came down and took her accustomed +seat. To her father’s great relief she came alone, yet she was but +indifferent company, her thoughts being with her mother and the child +who had just started on their journey to London. + +After this the time passed slowly and uneventfully to the dwellers in +the cottage. Edith, quiet and patient, felt her life bounded by the +sea and marsh, and never looked beyond. Only her mother fretted as she +thought of her beautiful daughter and her wasted life. For his part the +Captain seemed not to think at all, except that once when his daughter +threw out a feeble suggestion of seeking employment, he drew her to his +knee, and encircled her with an arm of iron. + +The child was never alluded to, though many and various were the +plans mother and daughter considered for its future. The child itself +solved the problem; it died, and its mother, weeping bitterly over the +ill-written scrawl which conveyed the news to her, prayed for death too. + +If anything, she became quieter than before, despite the efforts of +her father to arouse her. Sometimes it was a long walk with the blind +man along the shore, at another they would put to sea in the Captain’s +small skiff and stay for hours on the lonely waste of waters. + +Then suddenly things changed. One day, after a longer walk than usual, +they were astonished as they neared the house by the unwonted sounds +of a man’s voice. It was a full, hearty voice, and it was evident from +the animated conversation within that the stranger was feeling very +much at home. + +“Jem,” said his wife, as he entered, “you remember George Merrick, but +he’s grown from a boy to a man since we saw him.” + +“And from apprentice to master,” said the stranger, as he rose and +gripped the other’s hand. “All your teaching, Cap’n, all your teaching.” + +“You’ve got a ship, my lad?” inquired the Captain, as he returned the +shake. + +“A brand new one,” replied the other. “But I’ve got to wait a couple +of months for her and I thought I’d spend the holiday looking up my +friends. I got your address from your old owners, and here I am.” + +“And here you’ll stay till your ship’s ready,” said the Captain +cordially. “That is if you can put up with an old blind man and his +household. Lord, it’s good to hear the voice of a friend in this +desolate place.” + +“Sure I shan’t be a nuisance?” asked Merrick. “You know of old how +noisy I am.” + +“Not a bit of it, you’ll liven us all up,” replied the other. “It’ll be +a boon to me to have somebody to talk over old times with.” + +“Well, when you are tired of me tell me to go,” laughed Merrick, and so +the matter was settled. + + +II + +With the introduction of a visitor from the outside world dullness fled +from the cottage, and in a very short time George Merrick was on the +happiest terms with all of them; the Captain remarking with surprise +conversational powers on the part of his wife he had long since thought +defunct. + +All this the Captain heard, but he was a sense short. He could not +see the honest admiration with which Merrick eyed the daughter while +he talked to the mother, nor the subtle joy of the latter in the +knowledge of it. + +A sharper man might have remarked the deference in the visitor’s tones +when he addressed the daughter, but he did not, nor when Merrick and +his daughter were from the room did it occur to him that they might be +together. + +It was three weeks after Merrick’s arrival before his eyes were opened. +The visitor had gone on an errand to the neighbouring town, and his +host was sitting at the open window, smoking and listening to the +clicking of his wife’s needles as she knitted a mammoth sock. + +“Jem,” said his wife, suddenly suspending her work, “I think George +Merrick wants a little talk with you this afternoon.” + +“He may have it,” said the Captain affably. + +“You--you don’t seem to understand,” said his wife, her voice shaking a +little; “you men are all alike, I think. He wants Edith.” + +“_What?_” shouted the Captain. + +“He spoke to me this morning,” continued his wife, “and, of course, I +referred him to you.” + +“Has he spoken to her?” inquired the Captain. + +“He spoke to her last night,” was the reply, “and she accepted him. I +saw all along that they were taken with each other.” + +“And you never stopped it,” said the Captain. “You let it go on.” + +“Of course,” said his wife, in surprised tones. “Why not?” + +“Your memory is failing,” said her husband. “Think--go back three +years; go back to the night the child came.” + +“Jem,” said his wife, in a frightened whisper. “What do you mean?” + +“Have you told him what you told me, or have you told him the truth?” +pursued the other sternly. + +His wife, breathing rapidly, made no reply. + +“I have never referred to it before,” said the Captain, more gently. “I +never would have referred to it but for this. To save my poor girl’s +pride--and my own--I pretended to believe the lie you told me, for I +am a blind man, my dear, and harmless. When a man loses his sight he +should die, for he is a moving, _dangerous_ man no longer. He is a +derelict, and can only hurt that which runs against him.” + +“It is all past and over,” murmured his wife brokenly. + +“So I had thought,” replied the husband. “I never thought to have told +my daughter’s shame to another man.” + +“You will not,” cried his wife wildly. “I will never forgive you if you +do. Hasn’t my darling suffered enough? We did wrong in sending such a +child to that great, wicked city. And she loves him. If you tell him +that, it will kill her.” + +“I am a proud man,” said the Captain sternly, as he rose, “and no man +shall enter my family under false pretences. I will tell him. If he +likes to overlook it, well and good. Nobody will be happier than I +shall.” + +“Overlook it!” repeated his wife. “To save your pride, you were content +to keep your eyes shut--why do you wish to open his? Do you think he +will thank you for the information?” + +“Where is he?” asked the Captain. + +“He is out with Edith,” said his wife, crossing over and falling on her +knees beside him. “Jem, don’t tell him; for pity’s sake let things be. +Edith refused him at first, she has pride, too. She would not listen +to him. But I told him before her that she loved him and after that +he would not be denied. She is a good girl--you know she is a good +girl--and if you ruin her life like this, you will break my heart.” + +Before the Captain could reply or disengage his hands from hers, +voices were heard in the hall, and Merrick entered the room and looked +significantly at his hostess. + +“Captain,” he said in a strong voice, “I suppose Mrs. Ferguson has told +you that I have asked your daughter to be my wife. I----” + +“Sit down,” said the Captain quietly. “Jenny, Merrick and I will settle +this.” + +His wife rose helplessly to her feet. “Not now, Jem,” she cried +piteously, “not now; think first.” + +The Captain shook his head, and his wife, avoiding the gaze of the +astonished Merrick, left the room and went upstairs to her daughter. +Ten minutes later, through blinding tears, she saw Merrick quit the +house and walk like a drunken man along the sands. + +“He has gone,” she whispered, “gone without a word.” + +Edith rose, pale and dry eyed and crossed over to the window; then +flushing darkly she bent over her mother and kissed her. + +“I should not love him if he had stayed,” she said. + +For the rest of that day she kept her room, only going downstairs +when she heard her mother’s bedroom door close. Her father sat by the +window, his unsmoked pipe by the sill and his hands clasped before him. + +“Good night, father,” she said, quietly, as she crossed over to him and +placed her arms about his neck. “And thank you, for--everything.” + +“We’ll--we’ll be the same as before, my girl,” said the Captain, as he +drew her soft cheek on to his shoulder. “It was best for you, best for +him.” + +“You have been wonderfully good to me,” said the girl, in a low voice. +“I thank you and love you for it.” + +She disengaged herself from his arms and rose, pausing at the door to +bid him good night again, and passed upstairs. + + * * * * * + +An hour later, when the house was still and dark, she crept down again. +It was a warm summer’s night, but she shivered slightly and caught her +breath when the door rattled, under the touch of her shaky fingers, as +she opened it. Then she closed it behind her, and with a slight sob at +the pity of it all, walked towards the sea. For a minute she paused +irresolute, and a man who had walked down for a last look at the +house which contained her, stepped from its shadow and stood miserably +watching. Then, as he heard the grating of the boat’s keel on the +beach, he sprang forward eagerly, crying her name. + +He was just too late; the boat floated and the girl, with a stroke of +the oars, sent it from the shore. Without further parley he threw off +his coat and shoes, and wading in, struck out in pursuit. + +“Go back,” cried the girl from between her teeth. “Go back.” + +There was no reply, but a slight splashing in the wake of the boat +spoke for itself. She bent to the oars, the noise getting fainter and +fainter as she widened the distance between them. + +With her face white and set, she kept on her way until, despite +herself, her heart failed her, and she stopped rowing to listen. At +first there was a dead silence, then she fancied she could still hear +him striving to reach her. + +“Go back!” she cried piteously, “go back!” + +“I can’t,” he shouted, calmly, “it’s too far.” + +The girl sat motionless, peering through the gloom. Across the water +came the sound of quick, distressed breathing, and weak, rapid strokes. +With a great cry, she turned the boat’s head round and pulled in the +direction of the swimmer. + +“Where are you?” she cried, wildly; “call out.” + +At the faintness of the response she increased her efforts until she +came alongside something which struggled manfully in the dark water, +and strove to keep its white face above it. Just in time she leaned +over, and, grasping it by the shoulder, drew it to the stern of the +boat and held it fiercely and strongly to her breast. + +“If you want to die, dear,” gasped the man, as he lay a little later in +the bottom of the boat, holding her hands, “pull out the plug and we’ll +go down together, but living or dead, you shall not go from me again.” + + + + +Wapping-on-Thames + + +As a residential neighbourhood Wapping is perhaps undesirable, though a +considerable population contrives to exist in the narrow streets hemmed +in between the dock walls and the warehouses bordering the river. For +the river itself is completely hidden except where the swing-bridges, +which give entrance to the docks, afford a passing glimpse. + +From a picturesque point of view Wapping was no doubt much better +in the days when docks and swing-bridges were unknown; when the +bow-windows of its ancient taverns projected quaintly over the river +and the watermen’s stairs inspired the muse of the song-writer. Then +the raucous bellowings of hurrying steamers were unheard, and sailing +craft thoughtfully waited for tides, while master-mariners sat +drinking in the bow-windows aforesaid. + +[Illustration: WHILE MASTER-MARINERS SAT DRINKING IN THE BOW-WINDOWS +AFORESAID] + +The old church and the charity school, with the overgrown graveyard +opposite, with its rank grass and dingy trees, are the remains of +those days. The green of the churchyard is a relief to the bricks and +mortar, for trees are scarce in Wapping, though there are a few others +in front of the old-fashioned houses on the breezy pier-head hard +by--trees which, having been coaxed to grow in that uncongenial spot, +conscientiously endeavour to indicate the seasons, and make very few +mistakes considering. + +High Street, Wapping, the principal thoroughfare, realising, possibly, +that High Streets are apt to adhere too slavishly to one pattern, +appears to have determined to be original. It sternly eschews the +drapers and hatters, the bootmakers and tailors of other High Streets, +and confines its retail trade almost entirely to coffee-shops and +taverns. The coffee-shops are as conservative as the street, and one +window is much like another--herrings, rejoicing in their strength, +competing for favour with bacon of guaranteed mildness and eggs of +blameless exterior. + +Early in the morning the night-watchmen are awakened by vans, and late +at night their sleep is broken by them. For Wapping revels in vans +of all shapes and all sizes, but preferably large, and has put down +granite roads for their especial delectation. The vans are from all +quarters of London, and their drivers from all parts of the country, +but the latter are the willing victims of one dominant idea. It is the +ambition of every carman--the thing for which he plots and plans, and +swears and lies--to be attended to out of his turn. The more out of his +turn the better, and a boy of innocent aspect and no principles, who +will ably second his perjuries, is as the apple of his eye. This, and +sitting in dangerous attitudes on the tail-board of the van, or doing a +double-shuffle on the extreme edge of the kerb, is the van-boy’s part +in life. In his spare moments he watches his chief back horses, for, +as a backer of horses in a blameless sense, the river-side carman has +probably no equal in the world. At one time, in addition to the road, +he had about two feet of pavement to manœuvre on as well, but now he +has been warned off by iron posts of the most upright and rigid bearing. + +Down Tower Hill, thinking no evil, comes a mildewed four-wheeler +driven by an elderly cabman, who pulls up so sharply at the bottom of +the hill that the horse slides a yard or two and then tries to sit down. + +“Drive on, cabman!” says a shrill voice inside, as the owner of it +knuckles at the glass. “What are you stopping for? It’s farther on!” + +“All right, lady,” says the cabman. He knows that the sex requires +humouring, and “clucks” the horse on exactly seventeen inches. + +“Any chance o’ gettin’ by, sir?” he inquires with deep respect of a +tall policeman. + +The tall policeman eyes the traffic critically and a Pickford’s van +severely. Pickford’s horses are pawing the pavement, while their +tail-board is giving great offence to a pair of horses behind. + +“Pickford!” yells the tall policeman with great suddenness. + +Half a dozen voices take up the cry of “Pickford,” and Pickford’s +representative not being forthcoming (he is at the present moment +making Language, with a capital L, do for argument with the foreman), +a small boy appears from the depths of the van to see what he can do. + +“Put your van back a bit!” says the tall policeman austerely. + +The urchin grasps the horses’ heads, brings them forward a bit, thrusts +them back, slipping and stumbling with their heads in the air, and +having made at least a foot more space, pauses triumphantly and asks, +“How’s that?” + +The only reply of the tall policeman, who is a man of few words, is to +bawl for “Pickford” again. The cabman, in the most familiar manner, +also calls for “Pickford” and a string of vehicles behind him also call +on the name of “Pickford” with profane fervour. “Pickford” turns up at +last in a heated condition, having signally failed with the foreman, +and grasping his horses’ heads, backs them violently. The commotion +that ensues is tremendous, the docile and intelligent animals behind, +realising that it is a case of _sauve qui peut_, going where they can. + +There is now room for the procession to pass, and the cabman, having +brooded over his wrongs until he is word-perfect, tells the carman +his opinion of him as he goes by. It is a long opinion, quite a +character-study in fact and, despite the haste of his fares, he walks +his horse so that the offender shall not miss a word of it. + +“Bullen’s Wharf?” he inquires politely of a bystander, turning a deaf +ear to his adversary’s reply. + +“Straight ahead,” says the man addressed, “but you can’t get by!” + +“Ho! carn’t I?” says the cabman, with the air of a man who has just +done greater things than that. “An’ w’y not?” + +“Cos the bridge is swung,” says the other cheerfully. + +The cabman swings himself off his box, and opening the door of his +vehicle, breaks the news to his fares. The three ladies lean forward +anxiously, and with one accord blame him for it, one lady remarking +darkly that four-wheelers are all alike, and drawing offensive +comparisons between the present vehicle and a hansom. + +“I carn’t ’elp the bridge being swung,” says the cabman. “It ain’t no +pleasure for me standing here listening to you. ’Ow long’ll it be, +mate?” + +“I think they’re almost through now,” says the other. “There’s just a +few empty lighters going into the docks--unless the _Evening Star_ is +coming out,” he adds thoughtfully. + +Fortunately for all concerned the gallant ship mentioned does not come +out. The bridge swings together again, and the cabman, gathering up his +reins, rattles briskly over the stones to his destination. + +If the traffic in the streets is thick, that on the river is almost as +bad. Huge steamers come slowly and cautiously up, moaning plaintively +with their steam-sirens whenever they see anything about to run into +them. At times there appears to be no offing at all, and even penny +steamers--the most expert craft on the river--give a low whistle and +wonder what is going to happen next. It is usual at such moments for +an old and leaky boat, laden with small boys, who prefer this mode +of whiling away the dinner-hour to eating, to stop in mid-stream to +recover an oar. Extraordinary feats of navigation are performed by the +crew before this is accomplished, but they get it at last, and ignoring +the remarks hurled at them from the various craft, settle down to work +again and ram a steam collier. + +Work on the wharves is in full swing, and the cranes are busy lowering +goods into the gaping holds beneath. Sometimes the freight drops from +the slings on to the labourers, and once a crane we knew--ordinarily a +well-behaved, reliable worker--took too much aboard and plunged fifteen +feet into the river below. It took the driver with it, and when his +friends got him up, as a preliminary to burying him, they found, to +their astonishment, that he was alive. He was never a man to make much +fuss; and after he had sat on the jetty and been patted on the back, he +looked round at the place the crane had left, and said that perhaps, +as there didn’t seem to be anything for him to do, he might have a +half-holiday for once. He added, as an extra reason, that he felt a +little bit shaken. + +It is not until Sunday arrives that Wapping becomes quiet, and then +the change is almost oppressive in its thoroughness. The streets are +practically deserted in the morning, except for a few men who have got +up early by force of habit rather than the promptings of virtue, and a +chance cat slinking furtively along in the shadow of the warehouses, +ready to dart beneath a gateway at the first sign of a dog. + + + + +The Interruption + + +I + +The last of the funeral guests had gone and Spencer Goddard, in decent +black, sat alone in his small, well-furnished study. There was a +queer sense of freedom in the house since the coffin had left it; the +coffin which was now hidden in its solitary grave beneath the yellow +earth. The air, which for the last three days had seemed stale and +contaminated, now smelt fresh and clean. He went to the open window +and, looking into the fading light of the autumn day, took a deep +breath. + +He closed the window, and, stooping down, put a match to the fire, and, +dropping into his easy chair, sat listening to the cheery crackle of +the wood. At the age of thirty-eight he had turned over a fresh page. +Life, free and unencumbered, was before him. His dead wife’s money +was at last his, to spend as he pleased instead of being doled out in +reluctant driblets. + +He turned at a step at the door and his face assumed the appearance of +gravity and sadness it had worn for the last four days. The cook, with +the same air of decorous grief, entered the room quietly and, crossing +to the mantelpiece placed upon it a photograph. + +“I thought you’d like to have it, sir,” she said, in a low voice, “to +remind you.” + +Goddard thanked her, and, rising, took it in his hand and stood +regarding it. He noticed with satisfaction that his hand was absolutely +steady. + +“It is a very good likeness--till she was taken ill,” continued the +woman. “I never saw anybody change so sudden.” + +“The nature of her disease, Hannah,” said her master. + +The woman nodded, and, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief, +stood regarding him. + +“Is there anything you want?” he inquired, after a time. + +She shook her head. “I can’t believe she’s gone,” she said, in a low +voice. “Every now and then I have a queer feeling that she’s still +here----” + +“It’s your nerves,” said her master sharply. + +“----and wanting to tell me something.” + +By a great effort Goddard refrained from looking at her. + +“Nerves,” he said again. “Perhaps you ought to have a little holiday. +It has been a great strain upon you.” + +“You, too, sir,” said the woman respectfully. “Waiting on her hand and +foot as you have done, I can’t think how you stood it. If you’d only +had a nurse----” + +“I preferred to do it myself, Hannah,” said her master. “If I had had a +nurse it would have alarmed her.” + +The woman assented. “And they are always peeking and prying into what +doesn’t concern them,” she added. “Always think they know more than the +doctors do.” + +Goddard turned a slow look upon her. The tall, angular figure was +standing in an attitude of respectful attention; the cold slaty-brown +eyes were cast down, the sullen face expressionless. + +“She couldn’t have had a better doctor,” he said, looking at the fire +again. “No man could have done more for her.” + +“And nobody could have done more for her than you did, sir,” was the +reply. “There’s few husbands that would have done what you did.” + +Goddard stiffened in his chair. “That will do, Hannah,” he said curtly. + +“Or done it so well,” said the woman, with measured slowness. + +With a strange, sinking sensation, her master paused to regain his +control. Then he turned and eyed her steadily. “Thank you,” he said, +slowly; “you mean well, but at present I cannot discuss it.” + +For some time after the door had closed behind her he sat in deep +thought. The feeling of well-being of a few minutes before had +vanished, leaving in its place an apprehension which he refused to +consider, but which would not be allayed. He thought over his actions +of the last few weeks, carefully, and could remember no flaw. His +wife’s illness, the doctor’s diagnosis, his own solicitous care, were +all in keeping with the ordinary. He tried to remember the woman’s +exact words--her manner. Something had shown him Fear. What? + +He could have laughed at his fears next morning. The dining-room was +full of sunshine and the fragrance of coffee and bacon was in the air. +Better still, a worried and commonplace Hannah. Worried over two eggs +with false birth-certificates, over the vendor of which she became +almost lyrical. + +“The bacon is excellent,” said her smiling master, “so is the coffee; +but your coffee always is.” + +Hannah smiled in return, and, taking fresh eggs from a rosy-cheeked +maid, put them before him. + +A pipe, followed by a brisk walk, cheered him still further. He came +home glowing with exercise and again possessed with that sense of +freedom and freshness. He went into the garden--now his own--and +planned alterations. + +After lunch he went over the house. The windows of his wife’s bedroom +were open and the room neat and airy. His glance wandered from the +made-up bed to the brightly-polished furniture. Then he went to the +dressing-table and opened the drawers, searching each in turn. With the +exception of a few odds and ends they were empty. He went out on to the +landing and called for Hannah. + +“Do you know whether your mistress locked up any of her things?” he +inquired. + +“What things?” said the woman. + +“Well, her jewellery mostly.” + +“Oh!” Hannah smiled. “She gave it all to me,” she said, quietly. + +Goddard checked an exclamation. His heart was beating nervously, but he +spoke sternly. + +“When?” + +“Just before she died--of gastro-enteritis,” said the woman. + +There was a long silence. He turned and with great care mechanically +closed the drawers of the dressing-table. The tilted glass showed him +the pallor of his face, and he spoke without turning round. + +“That is all right, then,” he said, huskily. “I only wanted to know +what had become of it. I thought, perhaps, Milly----” + +Hannah shook her head. “Milly’s all right,” she said, with a strange +smile. “She’s as honest as we are. Is there anything more you want, +sir?” + +She closed the door behind her with the quietness of the well-trained +servant; Goddard, steadying himself with his hand on the rail of the +bed, stood looking into the future. + + +II + +The days passed monotonously, as they pass with a man in prison. Gone +was the sense of freedom and the idea of a wider life. Instead of a +cell, a house with ten rooms--but Hannah, the jailer guarding each +one. Respectful and attentive, the model servant, he saw in every word +a threat against his liberty--his life. In the sullen face and cold +eyes he saw her knowledge of power; in her solicitude for his comfort +and approval, a sardonic jest. It was the master playing at being the +servant. The years of unwilling servitude were over, but she felt her +way carefully with infinite zest in the game. Warped and bitter, with a +cleverness which had never before had scope, she had entered into her +kingdom. She took it little by little, savouring every morsel. + +“I hope I’ve done right, sir,” she said one morning. “I have given +Milly notice.” + +Goddard looked up from his paper. “Isn’t she satisfactory?” he inquired. + +“Not to my thinking, sir,” said the woman. “And she says she is coming +to see you about it. I told her that would be no good.” + +“I had better see her and hear what she has to say,” said her master. + +“Of course, if you wish to,” said Hannah; “only, after giving her +notice, if she doesn’t go I shall. I should be sorry to go--I’ve been +very comfortable here--but it’s either her or me.” + +“I should be sorry to lose you,” said Goddard in a hopeless voice. + +“Thank you, sir,” said Hannah. “I’m sure I’ve tried to do my best. I’ve +been with you some time now--and I know all your little ways. I expect +I understand you better than anybody else would. I do all I can to make +you comfortable.” + +“Very well, I will leave it to you,” said Goddard in a voice which +strove to be brisk and commanding. “You have my permission to dismiss +her.” + +“There’s another thing I wanted to see you about,” said Hannah; +“my wages. I was going to ask for a rise, seeing that I’m really +housekeeper here now.” + +“Certainly,” said her master, considering, “that only seems fair. Let +me see--what are you getting?” + +“Thirty-six.” + +Goddard reflected for a moment and then turned with a benevolent smile. +“Very well,” he said, cordially, “I’ll make it forty-two. That’s ten +shillings a month more.” + +“I was thinking of a hundred,” said Hannah dryly. + +The significance of the demand appalled him. “Rather a big jump,” he +said at last. “I really don’t know that I----” + +“It doesn’t matter,” said Hannah. “I thought I was worth it--to +you--that’s all. You know best. Some people might think I was worth +_two_ hundred. That’s a bigger jump, but after all a big jump is better +than----” + +She broke off and tittered. Goddard eyed her. + +“----than a big drop,” she concluded. + +Her master’s face set. The lips almost disappeared and something came +into the pale eyes that was revolting. Still eyeing her, he rose and +approached her. She stood her ground and met him eye to eye. + +“You are jocular,” he said at last. + +“Short life and a merry one,” said the woman. + +“Mine or yours?” + +“Both, perhaps,” was the reply. + +“If--if I give you a hundred,” said Goddard, moistening his lips, “that +ought to make your life merrier, at any rate.” + +Hannah nodded. “Merry and long, perhaps,” she said slowly. “I’m +careful, you know--very careful.” + +“I am sure you are,” said Goddard, his face relaxing. + +“Careful what I eat and drink, I mean,” said the woman, eyeing him +steadily. + +“That is wise,” he said slowly. “I am myself--that is why I am paying a +good cook a large salary. But don’t overdo things, Hannah; don’t kill +the goose that lays the golden eggs.” + +“I am not likely to do that,” she said coldly. “Live and let live; that +is my motto. Some people have different ones. But I’m careful; nobody +won’t catch me napping. I’ve left a letter with my sister, in case.” + +Goddard turned slowly and in a casual fashion put the flowers straight +in a bowl on the table, and, wandering to the window, looked out. His +face was white again and his hands trembled. + +“To be opened after my death,” continued Hannah. “I don’t believe in +doctors--not after what I’ve seen of them--I don’t think they know +enough; so if I die I shall be examined. I’ve given good reasons.” + +“And suppose,” said Goddard, coming from the window, “suppose she is +curious, and opens it before you die?” + +“We must chance that,” said Hannah, shrugging her shoulders; “but I +don’t think she will. I sealed it up with sealing-wax, with a mark on +it.” + +“She might open it and say nothing about it,” persisted her master. + +An unwholesome grin spread slowly over Hannah’s features. “I should +know it soon enough,” she declared boisterously, “and so would other +people. Lord there would be an upset! Chidham would have something to +talk about for once. We should be in the papers--both of us.” + +Goddard forced a smile. “Dear me!” he said gently. “Your pen seems to +be a dangerous weapon, Hannah, but I hope that the need to open it will +not happen for another fifty years. You look well and strong.” + +The woman nodded. “I don’t take up my troubles before they come,” she +said, with a satisfied air; “but there’s no harm in trying to prevent +them coming. Prevention is better than cure.” + +“Exactly,” said her master; “and, by the way, there’s no need for this +little financial arrangement to be known by anybody else. I might +become unpopular with my neighbours for setting a bad example. Of +course, I am giving you this sum because I really think you are worth +it.” + +“I’m sure you do,” said Hannah. “I’m not sure I ain’t worth more, but +this’ll do to go on with. I shall get a girl for less than we are +paying Milly, and that’ll be another little bit extra for me.” + +“Certainly,” said Goddard, and smiled again. + +“Come to think of it,” said Hannah pausing at the door, “I ain’t sure I +shall get anybody else; then there’ll be more than ever for me. If I +do the work I might as well have the money.” + +Her master nodded, and, left to himself, sat down to think out a +position which was as intolerable as it was dangerous. At a great risk +he had escaped from the dominion of one woman only to fall, bound and +helpless, into the hands of another. However vague and unconvincing the +suspicions of Hannah might be, they would be sufficient. Evidence could +be unearthed. Cold with fear one moment, and hot with fury the next, +he sought in vain for some avenue of escape. It was his brain against +that of a cunning, illiterate fool; a fool whose malicious stupidity +only added to his danger. And she drank. With largely increased wages +she would drink more and his very life might depend upon a hiccuped +boast. It was clear that she was enjoying her supremacy; later on her +vanity would urge her to display it before others. He might have to +obey the crack of her whip before witnesses, and that would cut off all +possibility of escape. + +He sat with his head in his hands. There must be a way out and he must +find it. Soon. He must find it before gossip began; before the changed +position of master and servant lent colour to her story when that +story became known. Shaking with fury, he thought of her lean, ugly +throat and the joy of choking her life out with his fingers. He started +suddenly, and took a quick breath. No, not fingers--a rope. + + +III + +Bright and cheerful outside and with his friends, in the house he was +quiet and submissive. Milly had gone, and, if the service was poorer +and the rooms neglected, he gave no sign. If a bell remained unanswered +he made no complaint, and to studied insolence turned the other cheek +of politeness. When at this tribute to her power the woman smiled, he +smiled in return. A smile which, for all its disarming softness, left +her vaguely uneasy. + +“I’m not afraid of you,” she said once, with a menacing air. + +“I hope not,” said Goddard in a slightly surprised voice. + +“Some people might be, but I’m not,” she declared. “If anything +happened to me----” + +“Nothing could happen to such a careful woman as you are,” he said, +smiling again. “You ought to live to ninety--with luck.” + +It was clear to him that the situation was getting on his nerves. +Unremembered but terrible dreams haunted his sleep. Dreams in which +some great, inevitable disaster was always pressing upon him, although +he could never discover what it was. Each morning he awoke unrefreshed +to face another day of torment. He could not meet the woman’s eyes for +fear of revealing the threat that was in his own. + +Delay was dangerous and foolish. He had thought out every move in that +contest of wits which was to remove the shadow of the rope from his own +neck and place it about that of the woman. There was a little risk, but +the stake was a big one. He had but to set the ball rolling and others +would keep it on its course. It was time to act. + +He came in a little jaded from his afternoon walk, and left his tea +untouched. He ate but little dinner, and, sitting hunched up over the +fire, told the woman that he had taken a slight chill. Her concern, he +felt grimly, might have been greater if she had known the cause. + +He was no better next day, and after lunch called in to consult his +doctor. He left with a clean bill of health except for a slight +digestive derangement, the remedy for which he took away with him in a +bottle. For two days he swallowed one tablespoonful three times a day +in water, without result, then he took to his bed. + +“A day or two in bed won’t hurt you,” said the doctor. “Show me that +tongue of yours again.” + +“But what is the matter with me, Roberts?” inquired the patient. + +The doctor pondered. “Nothing to trouble about--nerves a bit +wrong--digestion a little bit impaired. You’ll be all right in a day +or two.” + +Goddard nodded. So far, so good; Roberts had not outlived his +usefulness. He smiled grimly after the doctor had left at the +surprise he was preparing for him. A little rough on Roberts and his +professional reputation, perhaps, but these things could not be avoided. + +He lay back and visualized the programme. A day or two longer, getting +gradually worse, then a little sickness. After that a nervous, somewhat +shamefaced patient hinting at things. His food had a queer taste--he +felt worse after taking it; he knew it was ridiculous, still--there was +some of his beef-tea he had put aside, perhaps the doctor would like to +examine it? and the medicine? Secretions, too; perhaps he would like to +see those? + +Propped on his elbow, he stared fixedly at the wall. There would be a +trace--a faint trace--of arsenic in the secretions. There would be more +than a trace in the other things. An attempt to poison him would be +clearly indicated, and--his wife’s symptoms had resembled his own--let +Hannah get out of the web he was spinning if she could. As for the +letter she had threatened him with, let her produce it; it could only +recoil upon herself. Fifty letters could not save her from the doom he +was preparing for her. It was her life or his, and he would show no +mercy. For three days he doctored himself with sedulous care, watching +himself anxiously the while. His nerve was going and he knew it. Before +him was the strain of the discovery, the arrest, and the trial. The +gruesome business of his wife’s death. A long business. He would wait +no longer, and he would open the proceedings with dramatic suddenness. + +It was between nine and ten o’clock at night when he rang his bell, and +it was not until he had rung four times that he heard the heavy steps +of Hannah mounting the stairs. + +“What d’you want?” she demanded, standing in the doorway. + +“I’m very ill,” he said, gasping. “Run for the doctor. Quick!” + +The woman stared at him in genuine amazement. “What, at this time o’ +night?” she exclaimed. “Not likely.” + +“I’m dying!” said Goddard in a broken voice. + +“Not you,” she said, roughly. “You’ll be better in the morning.” + +“I’m dying,” he repeated. “Go--for--the--doctor.” + +The woman hesitated. The rain beat in heavy squalls against the window, +and the doctor’s house was a mile distant on the lonely road. She +glanced at the figure on the bed. + +“I should catch my death o’ cold,” she grumbled. + +She stood sullenly regarding him. He certainly looked very ill, and his +death would by no means benefit her. She listened, scowling, to the +wind and the rain. + +“All right,” she said at last, and went noisily from the room. + +His face set in a mirthless smile, he heard her bustling about below. +The front-door slammed violently and he was alone. + +He waited for a few moments and then, getting out of bed, put on his +dressing-gown and set about his preparations. With a steady hand he +added a little white powder to the remains of his beef-tea and to the +contents of his bottle of medicine. He stood listening a moment at some +faint sound from below, and, having satisfied himself, lit a candle and +made his way to Hannah’s room. For a space he stood irresolute, looking +about him. Then he opened one of the drawers and, placing the broken +packet of powder under a pile of clothing at the back, made his way +back to bed. + +He was disturbed to find that he was trembling with excitement and +nervousness. He longed for tobacco, but that was impossible. To +reassure himself he began to rehearse his conversation with the doctor, +and again he thought over every possible complication. The scene with +the woman would be terrible; he would have to be too ill to take any +part in it. The less he said the better. Others would do all that was +necessary. + +He lay for a long time listening to the sound of the wind and the rain. +Inside, the house seemed unusually quiet, and with an odd sensation +he suddenly realised that it was the first time he had been alone +in it since his wife’s death. He remembered that she would have to +be disturbed. The thought was unwelcome. He did not want her to be +disturbed. Let the dead sleep. + +He sat up in bed and drew his watch from beneath the pillow. Hannah +ought to have been back before; in any case she could not be long now. +At any moment he might hear her key in the lock. He lay down again and +reminded himself that things were shaping well. He had shaped them, and +some of the satisfaction of the artist was his. + +The silence was oppressive. The house seemed to be listening, waiting. +He looked at his watch again and wondered, with a curse, what had +happened to the woman. It was clear that the doctor must be out, but +that was no reason for her delay. It was close on midnight, and the +atmosphere of the house seemed in some strange fashion to be brooding +and hostile. + +In a lull in the wind he thought he heard footsteps outside, and his +face cleared as he sat up listening for the sound of the key in the +door below. In another moment the woman would be in the house and the +fears engendered by a disordered fancy would have flown. The sound of +the steps had ceased, but he could hear no sound of entrance. Until all +hope had gone, he sat listening. He was certain he had heard footsteps. +Whose? + +Trembling and haggard he sat waiting, assailed by a crowd of murmuring +fears. One whispered that he had failed and would have to pay the +penalty of failing; that he had gambled with Death and lost. + +By a strong effort he fought down these fancies and, closing his eyes, +tried to compose himself to rest. It was evident now that the doctor +was out and that Hannah was waiting to return with him in his car. He +was frightening himself for nothing. At any moment he might hear the +sound of their arrival. + +He heard something else, and, sitting up, suddenly, tried to think what +it was and what had caused it. It was a very faint sound--stealthy. +Holding his breath, he waited for it to be repeated. He heard it again, +the mere ghost of a sound--a whisper of a sound, but significant as +most whispers are. + +He wiped his brow with his sleeve and told himself firmly that it +was nerves, and nothing but nerves; but, against his will, he still +listened. He fancied now that the sound came from his wife’s room, the +other side of the landing. It increased in loudness and became more +insistent, but with his eyes fixed on the door of his room he still +kept himself in hand, and tried to listen instead to the wind and the +rain. + +For a time he heard nothing but that. Then there came a scraping, +scurrying noise from his wife’s room, and a sudden, terrific crash. + +With a loud scream his nerve broke, and springing from the bed he sped +downstairs and, flinging open the front-door, dashed into the night. +The door, caught by the wind, slammed behind him. + +With his hand holding the garden gate open, ready for further flight, +he stood sobbing for breath. His bare feet were bruised and the rain +was very cold, but he took no heed. Then he ran a little way along the +road and stood for some time, hoping and listening. + +He came back slowly. The wind was bitter and he was soaked to the skin. +The garden was black and forbidding, and unspeakable horror might be +lurking in the bushes. He went up the road again, trembling with cold. +Then, in desperation, he passed through the terrors of the garden +to the house, only to find the door closed. The porch gave a little +protection from the icy rain, but none from the wind, and, shaking in +every limb, he leaned in abject misery against the door. He pulled +himself together after a time and stumbled round to the back-door. +Locked! And all the lower windows were shuttered. He made his way back +to the porch, and, crouching there in hopeless misery, waited for the +woman to return. + + +IV + +He had a dim memory when he awoke of somebody questioning him, and then +of being half-pushed, half-carried upstairs to bed. There was something +wrong with his head and his chest and he was trembling violently, and +very cold. Somebody was speaking. + +“You must have taken leave of your senses,” said the voice of Hannah. +“I thought you were dead.” + +He forced his eyes to open. “Doctor,” he muttered, “doctor.” + +“Out on a bad case,” said Hannah. “I waited till I was tired of +waiting, and then came along. Good thing for you I did. He’ll be round +first thing this morning. He ought to be here now.” + +She bustled about, tidying up the room, his leaden eyes following her +as she collected the beef-tea and other things on a tray and carried +them out. + +“Nice thing I did yesterday,” she remarked, as she came back. “Left the +missus’s bed-room window open. When I opened the door this morning I +found that beautiful Chippendale glass of hers had blown off the table +and smashed to pieces. Did you hear it?” + +Goddard made no reply. In a confused fashion he was trying to think. +Accident or not, the fall of the glass had served its purpose. Were +there such things as accidents? Or was Life a puzzle--a puzzle into +which every piece was made to fit? Fear and the wind ... no: conscience +and the wind ... had saved the woman. He must get the powder back from +her drawer ... before she discovered it and denounced him. The medicine +... he must remember not to take it.... + +He was very ill, seriously ill. He must have taken a chill owing to +that panic flight into the garden. Why didn’t the doctor come? He had +come ... at last ... he was doing something to his chest ... it was +cold. + +Again ... the doctor ... there was something he wanted to tell him.... +Hannah and a powder ... what was it? + +[Illustration: THE LAST TIME HE LOOKED AT HANNAH WAS THE FIRST TIME FOR +MONTHS HE HAD LOOKED AT HER WITHOUT LOATHING AND HATRED.] + +Later on he remembered, together with other things that he had hoped to +forget. He lay watching an endless procession of memories, broken at +times by a glance at the doctor, the nurse, and Hannah, who were all +standing near the bed regarding him. They had been there a long time, +and they were all very quiet. The last time he looked at Hannah was the +first time for months that he had looked at her without loathing and +hatred. Then he knew that he was dying. + + + + +Bed Cases + + +The night-watchman was ill at ease, and, all ordinary positions failing +to give relief, adopted several entirely out of keeping with his age +and figure. A voice from the next wharf which wanted to know whether +he was going on to the stage, and, if so, whether he was going to wear +tights, brought him at once to a more becoming position. His voice was +broken with pain, but the masterly fashion in which he dealt with his +tormentor’s ancestors and the future behaviour of his descendants left +nothing to be desired. Uncouth noises, lacking in variety, were the +only retort. + +“It took me sudden yesterday morning, just arter brekfuss,” said the +night-watchman. “The woman--if you can call ’er a woman--next door +but one ’ad given my missis best part of a tin of salmon. I wondered +at the time why she gave it away--now I know. I ate it all, except +one mouthful wot my missis threw in the fireplace, and in less than a +couple of hours arterwards I thought my last hour ’ad come.” + +He clasped his hands at the waist-line and rocked to and fro. Faint +moans and indignant grunts attested to his suffering. + +“I’ve been taking things for it ever since and nothing seems to do it +any good,” he resumed, in an interval. “Fust of all I tried a couple +o’ pints to see wot that ’ud do; and the barman told me to go and die +outside. He said wot I ought to ’ave ’ad was rum, so I ’ad a quartern. +Arter that ’e _put_ me outside--me being too ill to stop ’im--and an +old gentleman wot was passing took me into a chemist’s shop and stood +treat. I don’t know wot it was the chemist gave me, but a’most direckly +arterwards there was a little crowd round the door peeping in, and +behaving theirselves as if I was a Punch and Judy show. Some of ’em +follered me ’ome, and it was all my missis could do to stop ’em coming +inside and helping ’er to put me to bed.” + +He rose and, stifling a moan, took a few paces up and down the jetty. + +“Seems to be passing off a bit for the time,” he said, resuming +his seat. “It sort o’ comes and goes, but it comes longer than it +goes. It’s funny ’ow soft and kind-’earted illness makes you. Three +times yesterday arternoon I called my missis upstairs to tell ’er +that I couldn’t pass away without letting ’er know I’d forgiven her +everything. She on’y came the fust time, but that wasn’t my fault. I +called ’er loud enough. + +“It seems to me to be the same complaint that Ginger Dick had a year +or two ago--on’y worse--and he made a great deal more fuss about it, +being a free-spoken man and not minding much wot he said about things +he didn’t like. + +“It came on in a public-’ouse in the Commercial Road, and it was so +sudden, and Ginger made such a funny noise, that Sam and Peter Russet +thought at fust he ’ad swallered ’is pipe. + +“‘Wot’s the matter?’ ses the landlord, leaning over the bar. + +“‘He’s swallered ’is pipe,’ ses Sam. + +“‘You’re--a--liar,’ ses Ginger, groaning. + +“‘Wot is it, then?’ ses the landlord. + +“Ginger shook his ’ead. ‘I don’t know,’ he ses in a weak voice. ‘I +think it’s the beer.’ + +“‘Outside,’ ses the landlord. ‘D’ye ’ear me? _Outside._’ + +[Illustration: “OUTSIDE,” SES THE LANDLORD--“D’YE ’EAR ME?--OUTSIDE.”] + +“Ginger went out with Sam propping ’im up on one side and Peter the +other and the landlord shoving ’im behind. His groans was ’art-rending +and the way he talked against beer made Sam and Peter blush for shame. +They stood on the pavement for a little while and then they helped ’im +on to a tram-car, and two minutes arterwards the conductor and five +passengers helped ’im off agin. + +“‘Wot’s to be done now?’ ses Sam. + +“‘Shove ’im in a puddle and leave ’im,’ ses Peter, very savage. + +“‘I can’t ’elp it--I feel as if I’d swallered fireworks,’ ses Ginger. + +“‘Little touch o’ stummick-ache,’ ses Sam. + +“‘And they keeps going off,’ ses Ginger. ‘Oh! Oh, my!’ + +“‘’Ave you got any pain?’ ses Peter. ‘That’ll do! That’ll do! Why +can’t you give a civil answer to a civil question?’ + +“He walked on, leaving Ginger ’anging on to Sam and talking at the top +of his voice. O’ course a crowd got round and told Sam wot to do, until +Ginger left off being ill for a little while to attend to a chap as ’ad +told Sam to stand ’im on his ’ead. If it ’adn’t ha’ been for a cab wot +’ad stopped to see wot the row was about Ginger would most likely ’ave +been given some medicine. + +“They walked along for some time with their ’eads down as though they +expected to see a doctor sitting on the pavement waiting for them, and +then Sam turned to Peter and asked ’im where they was going. + +“‘There’s one in the Whitechapel Road,’ ses Peter. + +“‘There must be one nearer than that,’ ses Sam. ‘Let’s go in somewhere +and ask.’ + +“They ’appened to be passing the Turk’s Head as ’e spoke, and, not +wanting everybody to know their business, they went into the private +bar instead of the usual, and ’ad a couple o’ glasses o’ bitter. + +“There was on’y one other chap there, a tall young man in a black +tail-coat, a bowler ’at, and a collar and necktie. He ’ad a large nose +and a pair of very sharp light eyes, and he sat there as if the place +belonged to ’im, stroking ’is little sandy moustache and tapping ’is +boots with a cane. Sam and Peter could see at once that he never went +anywhere except in private bars, and for the fust minute or two they +was talking a’most in whispers. They must ha’ talked a bit louder arter +a bit, ’cos all of a sudden, the gentleman emptied ’is glass and spoke +to ’em. + +“‘What’s that you want?’ he ses. ‘A doctor?’ + +“‘Yes,’ ses Sam, and the gentleman sat there with a smile on ’is face +while Peter and Sam described Ginger’s illness and repeated some of ’is +remarks about it. + +“‘Funny you should tell me,’ ses the gentleman. ‘Very funny.’ + +“Sam looked at ’im, and waited. + +“‘Cos I’m a doctor myself,’ ses the gentleman. ‘Dr. Brown.’ + +“‘Wot a bit o’ luck!’ ses Peter. ‘We thought we’d got to walk no end of +a way.’ + +“The doctor shook his ’ead. + +“‘I’m afraid I’m no good to you,’ he ses. + +“‘Why not?’ ses Sam, staring. + +“‘Too expensive,’ ses the doctor. ‘You see, I’m a West-end man, and +we’re not allowed to see a patient under a pound a visit.’ + +“He shook his ’ead and sat smiling at them sad-like and listening +to Sam, wot was sitting perched up on a stool making a noise like +bronchitis, with surprise. + +“‘I on’y come this way for a stroll,’ he ses, ‘’cos I like to see ships +and sailormen.’ + +“‘A--pound--a--visit?’ ses Peter. ‘D’ye ’ear that, Sam?’ + +“Sam looked at ’im, and arter a time he managed to nod. + +“‘P’r’aps it does seem a lot,’ ses the doctor, ‘but it comes cheaper +in the end to have a good man.’ + +“‘Not if the chap dies,’ ses Peter. + +“‘My patients don’t die,’ ses the doctor. ‘It’s only cheap doctors wot +loses their patients.’ + +“He took up ’is glass and then, finding as there was nothing in it, put +it down agin. Sam gave a little cough, and arter waiting a moment asked +whether ’e would do ’im the pleasure of having a drink with ’im. + +“‘Well, I’ve ’ad enough really,’ ses the doctor. ‘Still, I don’t mind +’aving a glass of port with you.’ + +“Peter said he’d ’ave a port, too, afore Sam could stop ’im, and him +and the doctor sat and drank Sam’s ’ealth, and Peter said ’ow well he +was looking and wot a fine rosy colour he’d got. Then Sam told the +doctor all about Ginger’s illness agin, and, in a off-hand sort o’ way, +asked ’im wot Ginger could take for it. + +“‘I couldn’t say without seeing ’im,’ ses the doctor; ‘it ain’t +allowed.’ + +“‘’Ow much would it be to see ’im?’ ses Sam. + +“‘He ain’t much to look at,’ ses Peter, looking at him ’opeful-like. + +“The doctor laughed, and then shook his ’ead at ’imself. ‘Well, I +don’t know,’ he says, ‘but if you’ll keep it a dead secret and not +let anybody know that I said--I mean, that I’m a doctor--I don’t mind +seein’ ’im for ’arf a dollar a visit.’ + +“‘Ginger couldn’t say anything agin that,’ ses Peter. + +“‘Couldn’t he?’ ses Sam. ‘’Owever, he’ll ’ave to put up with it. It’s +your turn, Peter; mine’s a port.’ + +“‘I suppose I’d better ’ave the same,’ says the doctor. ‘I don’t +believe in mixing. Tell ’im to give us the special this time. It’s +better.’ + +“Peter told ’im, and the landlord ’ad to tell ’im three times ’ow much +it was afore he understood. He seemed ’arf dazed, and the noise Sam +made smacking ’is lips over his wine nearly drove ’im crazy. The doctor +got up as soon as he ’ad finished ’is glass, and they all went out +into the street; Sam and Peter wondering what Ginger would say when ’e +saw the doctor and what ’e would do when he ’eard the price. They went +upstairs very quiet, as the doctor said he didn’t want anybody to see +’im, and the fust thing they saw when they got into the room was Ginger +laying face downwards on the bed with ’is arms and legs spread out, +groaning. + +“‘Wot ’ave you been all this time for?’ he ses, as soon as he ’eard +them. ‘You’ve been gone long enough to find fifty doctors.’ + +“‘This is a good ’un, Ginger,’ ses Sam, very solemn. ‘One o’ the best.’ + +“‘Charges as much as twenty ordinary doctors,’ ses Peter. + +“‘_Wot!_’ ses Ginger, turning over with surprise and temper. + +“The doctor smiled and, arter fust putting the chair by the side of the +bed and sitting down on it, put it back very careful and sat down on +the bed instead. + +“‘Let’s have a look at your tongue,’ he ses. + +“Ginger put it out, and then put it in agin to tell Sam that when ’e +wanted to ’ear his remarks about it he’d let ’im know. + +“‘I’ve seen a worse tongue than that,’ ses the doctor. ‘Once.’ + +“‘Did ’e die?’ ses Ginger. + +“‘Never mind,’ ses the doctor. + +“‘But I do mind,’ ses Ginger, very sharp. + +“‘No,’ ses the doctor; ‘I was called in at the last moment and, after +sitting up with ’im all night, pulled ’im through.’ + +“‘I told you wot he was, Ginger,’ ses Peter Russet in a whisper that +you could have ’eard downstairs. + +“The doctor took ’old of Ginger’s wrist; and then Sam got into trouble +agin for taking upon himself to tell ’im that Ginger ’ad got a natural +dark skin. The doctor took out ’is watch and they all ’eld their breath +while he counted Ginger’s pulse. + +“‘H’m!’ he ses, putting the watch back. ‘It’s a fortunate thing you met +me when you did. Now let’s have a look at your chest.’ + +“Ginger unbuttoned ’is shirt, and the doctor, arter a good look at the +ship wot was tattoed there, laid his ’ead on it amidships and listened. + +“‘Say ninety-nine,’ he ses, ’and go on saying it.’ + +“‘Ninety-nine,’ ses Ginger, ‘ninety-nine, ninety-nine, ninety--if I get +up to you, Sam, you’ll know it.’ + +“‘You’d laugh yourself if you could on’y see yourself, Ginger,’ ses Sam. + +“‘H’sh!’ ses the doctor; ‘he ’asn’t got much to laugh about, poor chap.’ + +“He moved his ’ead a bit and told Ginger to keep quiet. Then he sat up +and, buttoning Ginger’s shirt acrost ’is chest very careful, made a +sign to Sam and Peter to keep quiet, and sat thinking. + +“‘His ’art has moved,’ he ses at last; ‘it’s about two inches out of +place.’ + +“‘Good-bye, mates,’ ses pore Ginger. + +“‘There’s no need to say “good-bye,”’ ses the doctor, very sharp. ‘If +you’ll keep quite quiet and do as I tell you, you’ll be all right agin, +in time.’ + +“He sat thinking agin for a bit, and then ’e sent Peter downstairs for +a jug of ’ot water and a tumbler, and while it was being fetched he +told Sam ’e was to be head-nurse and told ’im all he was to do. + +“‘You don’t want to pay two or three pounds a week for a nurse, I +suppose?’ he ses, when Sam began to speak up for ’imself and tell ’im +’ow much he enjoyed ’is sleep. + +“‘I shan’t be much trouble to ’im,’ ses Ginger. ‘I can ’elp myself.’ + +“‘You mustn’t move,’ ses the doctor. ‘You’ve got to lay quite still. +Even if a fly settled on your nose you mustn’t brush it off. You don’t +know ’ow bad you are. I want you to keep per-feck-ly still. Till +to-morrow, at any rate.’ + +“He took the ’ot water from Peter and, after putting a little cold to +it, put ’is arm round Ginger’s neck and ’eld the tumbler to ’is lips. +He ’ad four tumblers, one arter the other, except for wot went down ’is +chest, and then ’e laid his ’ead back on the piller without a word. + +“‘That’ll do ’im good,’ ses the doctor, taking the ’arf-dollar wot Sam +got out of Ginger’s pocket. ‘I’ll look round agin in the morning.’ + +“‘And wot about medicine?’ ses Sam. + +“‘I’ll bring some with me,’ ses the doctor. ‘Good-bye.’ + +“Sam and Peter went to bed early. One thing there was nothing to do, +and another thing was Ginger wouldn’t let ’em do it. Every time they +moved ’e spoke about it and said wot it did to ’is ’art, and once, when +Sam sneezed, ’e called ’im a murderer. + +“It was about two o’clock in the morning when Sam woke up from a dream +of a beautiful gal with yaller ’air and blue eyes wot kept calling ’im +by ’is Christian name. He woke up with a smile on ’is lips and was +just shutting ’is eyes to go on dreaming if ’e could, when he ’eard it +again. + +“‘Sam! Sam! Sam! Sam!’ + +“‘Hullo!’ he ses, sitting up in bed very cross. + +“‘I thought you was dead,’ ses Ginger. ‘I’ve been calling you for ten +minutes or more. It’s made my ’eart worse.’ + +“‘Wot d’ye want?’ ses Sam. + +“‘I’ve got a nasty itching feeling between my shoulders,’ ses Ginger. + +“‘D’you mean to say--d’you mean to say you woke me up just to tell me +that?’ ses Sam, ’ardly able to speak for temper. + +“‘I woke you up to come and rub it,’ ses Ginger. ‘And look sharp about +it. You know I mustn’t move.’ + +“‘Hurry up, Sam!’ ses Peter Russet. ‘Wot are you waiting for? I want to +get to sleep agin.’ + +“Sam got out o’ bed at last and stood rubbing Ginger’s back with ’is +fist while Ginger kept telling ’im ’ow not to do it, and reminding ’im +wot a delikit skin he ’ad got. + +“He woke ’im up twice arter that. Once to give ’im a drink of water, +and once to ask him ’ow old he thought the doctor was. Wot with being +woke up and being afraid of being woke up, Sam ’ardly got a wink of +sleep. + +“Him and Peter Russet ’ad their brekfuss at a coffee-shop next mornin’, +and they had ’ardly got back afore the doctor come in. He seemed +pleased to ’ear that the pain was better, but ’e told Ginger that he’d +’ave to keep as still as he could for another day or two, and, arter +putting ’is face on ’is chest agin, said that the ’art ’ad stopped +moving. + +“‘I mean moving out of place,’ he ses, as Ginger sat up making a +’orrible noise and threw ’is arms round his neck. ‘To-morrow I ’ope it +will begin to move back.’ + +“He fished a bottle o’ medicine out of ’is pocket which he said would +be another bob, and, arter telling Sam to ’ave a lump o’ sugar ready +and pop it in quick, gave Ginger ’is fust dose. Sam popped it in all +right, but unfortunately the medicine was so nasty that Ginger was +quicker than wot ’e was. Anybody might ha’ thought he ’ad been killed +the way ’e carried on. + +“‘I’ll look in agin this evening,’ ses the doctor as he put a +’arf-dollar and a bob o’ Ginger’s in his pocket. ‘Don’t let ’im move +more than can be helped and---- Hullo!’ + +“‘Wot’s the matter?’ ses Sam, taking ’is finger out of ’is mouth and +staring at ’im. + +“The doctor didn’t answer ’im. He lifted up ’is eyelids instead and +looked at his eyes, and then he told Ginger to open ’is mouth, and +looked at ’is teeth. Then he looked at Sam agin and felt all round ’is +throat. + +“‘Wot is it?’ ses Sam, going pale. + +“‘It might be blood-poisoning,’ ses the doctor, ‘but I can’t tell yet. +His teeth are in a very bad state.’ + +“‘’Ow shall I know if it is?’ ses Sam. + +“‘You’ll know fast enough,’ ses the doctor, shaking his ’ead. ‘P’r’aps +you’d better ’ave a quiet time at ’ome to-day and keep your friend +company, and I’ll ’ave a look at you when I come in this evening. Keep +your spirits up and be as cheerful as you can--for ’is sake.’ + +“He left ’em all staring at each other; and then Sam sat down on ’is +bed and told Peter Russet wot ought to be done to Ginger before England +would be fit for decent people to live in. Peter said it was a wonder +’ow he could think of it all, and Ginger said it was because he ’ad got +a nasty mind, and he told ’im wot he’d do to ’im when ’e got well agin. + +“They spent most of the day quarrelling, and on’y left off to find +fault with Peter when ’e came in from enjoying ’imself to see ’ow they +was getting on. Sam was the worst, cos Ginger was afraid of ’is ’eart +if he got too excited, but arter the doctor saw ’im in the evening ’e +was as quiet as Ginger was. + +“He said the poison ’ad got from Sam’s finger down into ’is liver and +an abscess was forming there. He showed Sam where ’is liver was--a +thing he ’adn’t known afore--and found out where the abscess was with +’is thumb-nail. He found it twice, and was just going to find it agin +when Sam pulled ’is shirt down. + +“‘There’s no danger,’ he ses, ‘if you do just wot I tell you. If you +keep quiet like your friend does, I’ll ’ave you up agin in a week. If +you move about or ’ave any violent shock you’ll die afore you know +where you are.’ + +“He sat talking with ’em for a little while, and, arter saying that +Ginger’s ’art was not going back as fast as he could wish, ’e took ’is +money and went off. Peter sat looking at ’em till Sam asked ’im whether +he thought they was waxworks, and then, arter punching up their pillers +and tickling Ginger’s toes, playful-like, ’e picked up ’is cap and went +out. He spent most of ’is time out, and, when ’e did come in, all he +could talk about was the drinks he’d been ’aving and ’ow glad ’e was +that _his_ ’art and liver was as sound as a bell. + +“‘I wonder you ain’t sick of bed,’ he ses, arter Ginger had ’ad four +days of it. + +“‘Sick of it!’ ses Ginger, choking. ‘Sick of it! Why, you ugly, +mutton-faced son of a----’ + +“‘Mind your ’art, Ginger,’ ses Sam. + +“‘I don’t believe in doctoring and laying in bed,’ ses Peter, picking +’is teeth with a pin. ‘I believe that if you and Sam was to get up and +’ave a little dance in your shirts it ’ud do you all the good in the +world. _I’d_ ’um to you.’ + +“Mind your ’art, Ginger,’ ses Sam, very quick. + +“Ginger minded it, but they was both so disagreeable that Peter got up +and went out agin and didn’t come back until the pubs was closed. He +woke ’em both up getting to bed, but when they tried to wake _’im_ up +arterwards they might as well ’ave tried to wake the dead. All they did +was to wake each other up and then ’ave words about it. + +“They wouldn’t speak to Peter when ’e got up next morning, and, arter +giving ’em both wot ’e called a bit of ’is mind, but wot other people +would ’ave called nasty langwidge, ’e flung Ginger’s trowsis into +Sam’s face and went off for the day. + +“He didn’t come back until six-o’clock, but when ’e did come back ’e +was a reg’lar sunbeam, smiling all over ’is face. He ’ad a look at +Ginger and smiled, and then ’e went and smiled at Sam, with his ’and +over ’is mouth. + +“‘He’s drunk,’ ses Sam, trying to sneer. + +“‘Mad _and_ drunk,’ ses Ginger. + +“Peter didn’t say anything. He went and sat down on ’is bed and covered +up ’is face with his ’andkerchief and the bed shook as if there was an +earthquake sitting on it. + +“‘’Ow--’ow--’ow’s the ’art, Ginger?’ he ses at last. + +“Ginger didn’t answer ’im. + +“‘And Sa--Sa--Sam’s pore old liver!’ ses Peter, going off agin. + +“He wiped ’is eyes at last, and then ’e got up and walked up and down +the room fighting for ’is breath and saying ’ow it hurt ’im. And when +he saw them two pore invalids laying in bed and looking at each other +’elpless, ’e sat down and laughed till ’e cried. + +“‘It’s the d-d-doctor,’ he ses at last. ‘The--the landlord told me.’ + +“‘Told you wot?’ ses Ginger, grinding ’is teeth. + +“‘He--he ain’t a doctor,’ ses Peter, wiping ’is eyes; ‘he’s a +bookmaker’s clerk, and you won’t see ’im agin ’cos the police are arter +’im.’ + +“You might have ’eard a pin drop, as the saying is, if it ’adn’t been +for the choking noise in Sam’s throat. + +“‘You ought to ’ave ’eard the landlord laugh when I told ’im about you +and Sam,’ ses Peter. ‘It would ha’ done you good. ’Ow much money ’as he +’ad off of you, Ginger?’ + +“Ginger didn’t answer ’im. He got out of bed very slow, and put on ’is +boots and ’is trowsis. Then ’e got up and locked the door. + +“‘Wot are you doing that for?’ ses Sam, wot was sitting on the edge of +’is bed putting on ’is socks. + +“‘I’m going to give Peter something else to laugh about,’ ses Ginger.” + + +THE END + + + + +TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + + +Typos and mismatched puncutation (particularly quotation marks +and apostrophes) corrected. + +Some illustrations have been moved from their original positions to +enhance readability. The page numbers in the list of illustrations +remain unchanged from the original. + +Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been left unchanged. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78235 *** diff --git a/78235-h/78235-h.htm b/78235-h/78235-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..18e80a2 --- /dev/null +++ b/78235-h/78235-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8866 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <meta name="format-detection" content="telephone=no,date=no,address=no,email=no,url=no"> + <title> + Sea whispers | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .5em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .5em; +} + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + +hr.r5 {width: 5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 47.5%; margin-right: 47.5%;} + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} +table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; } +table.autotable td, +table.autotable th { padding: 0.25em; } + +.tdl {text-align: left;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} +.tdc {text-align: center;} +td.vbottom { vertical-align: bottom; } + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} /* page numbers */ + +blockquote { + margin-top: 0; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +figcaption {font-weight: bold;} +figcaption p {margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: .2em; text-align: inherit;} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} +img.w100 {width: 100%;} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +/* Transcriber's notes */ +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:small; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; +} + + +.ph2 { + text-align: center; + font-size: x-large; + font-weight: bold; +} +.transnote { + margin-left:17.5%; + margin-right:17.5%; +} + +/* Conventional dropcaps */ +p.dropcap { + text-indent: 0em; +} +p.dropcap:first-letter { + float: left; + margin: 0.15em 0.1em 0em 0em; + font-size: 250%; + line-height: 0.85em; +} +.x-ebookmaker p.dropcap:first-letter { + float: none; + margin: 0; + font-size: 100%; +} + +.upper-case +{ + text-transform: uppercase; +} + +.x-ebookmaker .ep4 {margin-top: 4em;} + +.lsoff { list-style-type: none; } +li { margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom:0; line-height: 1.2em; } + +/* Illustration classes */ +.illowp80 {width: 80%;} +.illowp20 {width: 20%;} +.illowp100 {width: 100%;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78235 ***</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_i"></a><a id="Page_ii"></a>[Pg ii]</span></p> + + +<div class="ep4" style="display: flex; justify-content: center;"> + <div> + <p><i>BY W. W. JACOBS</i></p> + <ul class="lsoff" style="font-size: small; margin: 0;"> + <li>SEA WHISPERS</li> + <li>DEEP WATERS</li> + <li>THE CASTAWAYS</li> + <li>NIGHT WATCHES</li> + <li>SHIP’S COMPANY</li> + <li>SAILORS’ KNOTS</li> + <li>SALTHAVEN</li> + <li>SHORT CRUISES</li> + <li>CAPTAINS ALL</li> + <li>DIALSTONE LANE</li> + <li>ODD CRAFT</li> + <li>AT SUNWICH PORT</li> + </ul> + <p><i>CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS</i></p> + </div> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</span></p> + + + <p class="ph2 ep4"> + SEA WHISPERS + </p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_iv"></a><a id="Page_v"></a><a id="Page_vi"></a>[Pg vi]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp80" id="i_f006" style="max-width: 30em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_f006.png" alt=""> + <figcaption> + “‘I’m going to give Peter something else to laugh + about,’ ses Ginger” + </figcaption> +</figure> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</span></p> + + +<h1>SEA WHISPERS</h1> + +<p class="center">BY<br> +W. W. JACOBS</p> + + +<p class="center p4" style="font-size: small;"><i>ILLUSTRATED BY BERT THOMAS</i></p> + + +<p class="center p4">CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS<br> +NEW YORK : : : : : : 1927</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</span></p> + + +<p class="center ep4"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1926, by</span><br> +CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS</p> +<hr class="r5"> +<p class="center">Printed in the United States of America</p> + + +<figure class="figcenter illowp20" id="colophon" style="margin-top: 6em; max-width: 6em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/colophon.png" alt="" data-role="presentation"> +</figure> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</span></p> + + +<p class="center ep4" style="font-size: small;">TO<br> +THE MEMORY OF MY FRIEND +</p> +<p class="center"> +JAMES B. PINKER +</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_x"></a><a id="Page_xi"></a>[Pg xi]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS"> + CONTENTS + </h2> +</div> + + +<table class="autotable"> +<tr style="font-size: small;"> +<th class="tdc"> +CHAPTER +</th> +<th></th> +<th class="tdr"> +PAGE +</th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"> +I. +</td> +<td class="tdl"> +<span class="smcap">The Bravo</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#The_Bravo">1</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"> +II. +</td> +<td class="tdl"> +<span class="smcap">Taking Pains</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#Taking_Pains">31</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"> +III. +</td> +<td class="tdl"> +<span class="smcap">His Brother’s Keeper</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#His_Brothers_Keeper">57</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"> +IV. +</td> +<td class="tdl"> +<span class="smcap">Trust Money</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#Trust_Money">84</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"> +V. +</td> +<td class="tdl"> +<span class="smcap">Kitchen Company</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#Kitchen_Company">113</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"> +VI. +</td> +<td class="tdl"> +<span class="smcap">The Model</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#The_Model">140</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"> +VII. +</td> +<td class="tdl"> +<span class="smcap">Artful Cards</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#Artful_Cards">158</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"> +VIII. +</td> +<td class="tdl"> +<span class="smcap">Handsome Harry</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#Handsome_Harry">186</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"> +IX. +</td> +<td class="tdl"> +<span class="smcap">The Blindness of Capt. Ferguson</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#The_Blindness">213</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"> +X. +</td> +<td class="tdl"> +<span class="smcap">Wapping-on-Thames</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#Wapping-on-Thames">232</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"> +XI. +</td> +<td class="tdl"> +<span class="smcap">The Interruption</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#The_Interruption">242</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"> +XII. +</td> +<td class="tdl"> +<span class="smcap">Bed Cases</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#Bed_Cases">272</a> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xii"></a><a id="Page_xiii"></a>[Pg xiii]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="ILLUSTRATIONS"> + ILLUSTRATIONS + </h2> +</div> + + +<table class="autotable"> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +“‘I’m going to give Peter something else to laugh +about,’ ses Ginger” +</td> +<td class="tdr vbottom"> +<a href="#i_f006"><i>Frontispiece</i></a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +</td> +<th class="tdr" style="font-size: small;"> +FACING PAGE +</th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +“‘I want to come inside,’ he ses, shoving ’is face +close up to mine. ‘I believe you’ve got my +gal there’” +</td> +<td class="tdr vbottom"> +<a href="#i_p011">11</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +“‘Stand up,’ says Alf, pullin’ ’im by the collar—stand +up and take wot’s comin’ to you’” +</td> +<td class="tdr vbottom"> +<i>Page</i> <a href="#i_p027">27</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +The marvellous case of Old Mr. Jackson +</td> +<td class="tdr vbottom"> +<a href="#i_p035">35</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +“Ho, Ho,” said the other. “All right—don’t +worry—mum’s the word” +</td> +<td class="tdr vbottom"> +<a href="#i_p061">61</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +“And then Mr. Jackson took ’im a bit to one side +and whispered to ’im” +</td> +<td class="tdr vbottom"> +<i>Page</i> <a href="#i_p097">97</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +“‘You’ve killed ’im,’ ses Peter, staring. ‘Good +job,’ ses Ginger, thinking of ’is pore leg. +‘Come on, let’s get Sam’s money back.’” +</td> +<td class="tdr vbottom"> +<a href="#i_p104">104</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +The Captain stayed to see Fair Play +</td> +<td class="tdr vbottom"> +<a href="#i_p137">137</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +“Beautiful,” said the artist joyfully—“beautiful” +</td> +<td class="tdr vbottom"> +<a href="#i_p143">143</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +“Where’s old Sam?” he ses. “Wot ’ave you +done with him?” +</td> +<td class="tdr vbottom"> +<a href="#i_p175">175</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +“Sam came into the room looking very bright +and pleased with ’imself” +</td> +<td class="tdr vbottom"> +<i>Page</i> <a href="#i_p181">181</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</span> +“If he’s only half as good looking as what you +say he is we might fall in love with him” +</td> +<td class="tdr vbottom"> +<a href="#i_p192">192</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +“No you mustn’t,” said his wife, pushing his great +form back into the chair +</td> +<td class="tdr vbottom"> +<a href="#i_p215">215</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +While master-mariners sat drinking in the bow-windows +afore-said +</td> +<td class="tdr vbottom"> +<a href="#i_p233">233</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +The last time he looked at Hannah was the first +time for months he had looked at her without +loathing and hatred +</td> +<td class="tdr vbottom"> +<a href="#i_p270">270</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +“Outside,” ses the Landlord—“d’ye ’ear me?—<i>OUTSIDE</i>” +</td> +<td class="tdr vbottom"> +<a href="#i_p275">275</a> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xv">[Pg xv]</span></p> + + + <p class="ph2"> + The Bravo + </p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xvi"></a><a id="Page_1"></a>[Pg 1]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="The_Bravo"> + The Bravo + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">There</span> was a chill air off the river, +and the water looked cold and dark. +Side-lights were already appearing, +and the siren of a large steamer coming up indulged +in grievous lamentations. A slight +shiver altered for a moment the contour of the +night-watchman’s jersey. He patted it tenderly.</p> + +<p>“There’s worse things than loneliness, +though,” he said after a long silence, “and a +man as does his dooty can always find something +to do.”</p> + +<p>He got up from the bollard and, with a +faint grunt, stooped and picked up his broom. +A voice from the next wharf told him to take +care not to overdo it.</p> + +<p>“That’s the new man next door,” said the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span>night-watchman. “He’s feeling lonely and ’e +wants me to answer him back—and I shan’t.</p> + +<p>“I used to feel like it myself at fust; not that +I ever gave any lip to my olders and betters; +but I used to feel I wanted somebody to talk +to. One time I let a painter chap come and +paint ’ere. He used to paint ships and things, +and that lasted till one day he asked to be +allowed to paint my portrait. It took ’im three +evenings. He showed it to me when it was +finished as if ’e was proud of it; and then ’e +went straight off ’ome, packing up his things +as ’e went and talking about sending for the +police.</p> + +<p>“Arter that I ’ad a dog for company. Bull-terrier +he was, and somebody must ha’ paid +a lot o’ money for ’im. I had ’im a couple o’ +months, and then the landlord of the ‘Albion’ +offered me a couple o’ quid for ’im, and while +I was trying to raise him to two pun’ ten some +low, dirty, sneaking thief got ’im for nothing. +There’s people about ’ere as would steal your +whiskers off your face if they wanted ’em. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span>And if you went to the police about it the fust +thing they would ask is where you got them +from.</p> + +<p>“I ’ad another dog arter that, but ’e wasn’t +wot you might call a success. He bit three +people in a fortnight, and then ’e bit me. The +last I see of him, he was trying to swim across +the river with a brick.</p> + +<p>“A watchman is best all alone by ’imself. +He can’t cheat ’imself at cards, and any drink +he pays for isn’t money wasted. I ’ad a little +lesson once about keeping myself to myself +and it done me good. Though I didn’t see it +at the time.</p> + +<p>“It was just such an evening as this might +be. I ’ad been hard at work tidying up, and +was just thinking of getting my ladder and +lighting up, when the wicket was pushed open +sudden and a young feller ’opped in follered +by a gal. They shut it arter them very gentle +and then stood there talking in w’ispers and +looking round at me.</p> + +<p>“‘’Ullo!’ I ses. ‘Wot’s all this about?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span></p> + +<p>“‘<i>Hsh!</i>’ ses the gal. ‘<i>Hsh!</i>’</p> + +<p>“‘Wot d’you want?’ I ses, very loud, a-purpose. +‘Who asked you to come on my wharf +and <i>hsh</i> me about?’</p> + +<p>“Pretty little thing she was, about eighteen, +with nice large blue eyes and brown ’air.</p> + +<p>“‘We’re escaping,’ she ses, coming up and +catching ’old of my arm.</p> + +<p>“‘Wot ’ave you been doing?’ I ses, trying +to speak severe.</p> + +<p>“‘Nothing,’ she ses, shaking her ’ead.</p> + +<p>“‘Wot’s <i>he</i> been doing, then?’ I ses.</p> + +<p>“‘Nothing that I’m ashamed of,’ ses the +young feller. ‘I’m only walking out with my +young lady, that’s all.’</p> + +<p>“‘Well, you can’t walk out with ’er on my +wharf,’ I ses, rather sharp. ‘Is ’er father +arter ’er or wot?’</p> + +<p>“He stood there looking at me like a silly +fool. A rather smallish chap, dressed up to +the nines, with a necktie like a rainbow in a fit. +If he’d been a gal I should ’ave called ’im +rather good-looking, but ’e was too pretty-pretty +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span>for a man. Twice he opened ’is mouth +to speak, and only gave a silly smile instead.</p> + +<p>“‘It ain’t ’er father,’ he ses at last, with a +funny little laugh.</p> + +<p>“‘It’s the young man I used to walk out +with afore I was old enough to know my own +mind,’ ses the gal, turning to me. ‘I never +reely liked ’im. He’s always getting into +fights; and now he says if ’e sees Charlie with +me he’ll knock ’is ’ead off and make ’im swaller +it. I saw ’im behind us just now, and if +your gate ’adn’t been open I don’t know wot +would ’ave happened.’</p> + +<p>“‘But you ain’t afraid of ’im?’ I ses to the +young man.</p> + +<p>“‘I ain’t afraid of any man,’ he ses, very upright. +‘But I don’t want my ’ead knocked off. +’Ow would you like it yourself?’</p> + +<p>“‘’Ow big is he?’ I ses.</p> + +<p>“‘About my size,’ ses Charlie, considering.</p> + +<p>“‘Well, you needn’t be afraid of a little +shrimp like that,’ I ses. ‘Neither of you can’t +hurt each other enough to signify. You get +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span>off my wharf and, if he starts on you, knock +’im down. Give ’im one in the bread-basket +with your left, and when ’e bends over drive +your right to ’is jaw.’</p> + +<p>“‘And s’pose ’e don’t bend over?’ ses +Charlie.</p> + +<p>“‘He wouldn’t,’ ses the gal. ‘Not if I know +’im. If Charlie did manage to hit ’im in the—where +you said, he’d ’arf kill ’im.’</p> + +<p>“Charlie nodded and turned pale. He could +turn pale all right, but even the things I said +to ’im couldn’t make ’im blush. She turned +red instead, and I caught one look from ’er +blue eyes—when she didn’t think I was +looking—that fair startled me.</p> + +<p>“‘Well, I’ve give you good advice,’ I ses, +‘and if you don’t take it you must leave it. +If I was walking out with a gal like that +I’d fight a rigdiment of soldiers for ’er; one +down and t’other come up.’</p> + +<p>“She gave me a nice look then and I began +to feel a bit sorry for ’er. Gals can’t ’elp +their feelings, when all is said and done.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span></p> + +<p>“‘I’ll just step outside and see if there is +anybody ’anging about,’ I ses; ‘if not, off +you go.’</p> + +<p>“I walked to the gate, but couldn’t see +anybody. Then I strolled round the corner, +careless-like, with my ’ands in my pockets, +and the fust thing I see was a young feller +walking up and down and looking all ways +at once, as the saying is. Nasty face he’d got; +sharp eyes and a nose that wasn’t, and big +ugly teeth.</p> + +<p>“‘Lost anything?’ I ses as I passed.</p> + +<p>“‘Go an’ boil your face,’ he ses.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t answer ’im; I gave ’im a smile +instead. Just the sort of smile kind old ladies +turn round and give to little children when +they pass ’em. Then I walked back slow to +the wharf, and I ’ad just got one leg inside +the gate when a stone came along and caught +me on the other.</p> + +<p>“Nasty smack it was, too, and if I could +ha’ got hold of ’im I’d ha’ tore ’im limb from +limb. I went round the corner to look for +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span>’im, but o’ course he ’ad disappeared, and +when I got back to the wharf Charlie and the +gal ’ad disappeared too.</p> + +<p>“I got my ladder and lit the lamps. It +was dark by the time I ’ad finished and ’ad +a pipe in the office. I went out on the wharf +again, and arter a time I began to fancy things. +I thought I ’eard little rustlings and whisperings. +Twice I stopped and listened and then +everything was as silent as the grave. Then +I ’eard a little sneeze.</p> + +<p>“They was sitting on a box—a little box—be’ind +a pile of empties in the angle of the +warehouse there, holding each other’s ’and. +I spoke to ’em sharp at fust, but the gal +was so sorry when she ’eard about my +leg that I ’adn’t the ’art to say much. +Quite upset she was, with ’er little hanky +up to ’er mouth and making funny little sobbing +noises.</p> + +<p>“‘That’s a nice quiet little corner,’ ses +Charlie, as I walked down to the gate with +’em. ‘It might ha’ been made for us.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span></p> + +<p>“‘Only it wasn’t,’ I ses.</p> + +<p>“He leaned up against me, and at fust I +thought ’e was trying to hold <i>my</i> ’and. Then +I felt something ’ard put into it. I s’pose I +was a fool, but I remembered my own young +days, and I stood there trying to think wot I +could do for ’em.</p> + +<p>“‘The corner won’t run away,’ I ses, ‘and +so long as there’s no craft alongside, or at any +rate none of the hands about, I don’t know +why you shouldn’t go there for a breath of +fresh air sometimes.’</p> + +<p>“They both thanked me at once, and I +could see wot a load it was off Charlie’s mind +to think as ’ow ’e could go on courting in +comfort and safety. The gal went off by +’erself, in case the other chap, Alf Stevens, +should be ’anging about, and arter I ’ad +allowed Charlie to stand me a pint in the +‘Bull’s Head,’ he went off too.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t see anything of ’em for the next +two days, but on the third evening there was +a little tapping noise on the gate, and when I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span>opened the wicket the gal put ’er little ’ead +in and smiled at me.</p> + +<p>“‘Can I come in?’ she ses.</p> + +<p>“‘Yes,’ I ses; ‘there’s nothing up to-night. +You can ’ave the wharf all to your two selves. +Where is he?’</p> + +<p>“‘He’s coming a roundabout way,’ she +ses. ‘It’s safer.’</p> + +<p>“I didn’t say nothing; arter all it was <i>’er</i> +young man, but I coughed. I couldn’t ’elp +it. And when she patted me on the back +it made me cough again. Nice little ’and +she’d got, but ’arder than wot I expected. +Especially the second time.</p> + +<p>“I stood talking to ’er a little while arter +she ’ad got into ’er corner. Besides the other +things, I ’ad moved three or four empty +barrels in front so as to make ’em quite private, +and she couldn’t thank me enough for it. She +said it was evident I knew my way about, and +she wondered ’ow many ’arts I ’ad broke afore +I settled down. I told ’er of one or two, and +just as she was shaking her ’ead at me and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span>asking me whether all men was like that, or +only sailormen, the wharf bell rang.</p> + +<p>“‘Oh, make ’aste,’ she ses; ‘it sounds as if +’e was in a ’urry.’</p> + +<p>“I trotted off and unlocked the gate and +Charlie a’most fell into my arms. Pale as a +ghost ’e was and shaking all over. Then I +put my ’ead outside and saw Alf Stevens.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span></p> + +<p>“He pulled up short as ’e see me, and we +stood looking at each other; me inside and +’im outside. Then ’e steps forward, as bold +as brass, to come on to the wharf.</p> + +<p>“‘Wot do you want?’ I ses, blocking the +way.</p> + +<p>“‘I want to come inside,’ he ses, shoving +’is face close up to mine. ‘I believe you’ve +got my gal there.’</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp80" id="i_p011" style="max-width: 28em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_p011.png" alt=""> + <figcaption> + “‘I WANT TO COME INSIDE,’ HE SES, SHOVING ’IS FACE + CLOSE UP TO MINE. ‘I BELIEVE YOU’VE GOT MY GAL THERE.’” + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>“‘You run off ’ome and play,’ I ses. ‘I’ve +’ad enough o’ little boys coming on to my +wharf and stealing lumps o’ coke. Go off +an’ ’ave a little game of ’opscotch all by +yourself.’</p> + +<p>“I slammed the wicket just in time, and, +judging by the noise ’is fist made on it, I +didn’t lose anything I wanted much. He +must ’ave pretty near broke ’is knuckles, and +the langwidge ’e used about it was shocking. +When I called out and asked ’im whether he +’ad ever been to Sunday School, it got worse.</p> + +<p>“‘You’ve done it now,’ ses Charlie, +trembling.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span></p> + +<p>“‘Cheer up!’ I ses. ‘You’ve got the gal and +you can’t expect to ’ave everything. Even +if he does set about you ’e can’t kill you, and +if ’e does he’ll be ’ung for it. I’ll see as ’ow +he don’t escape.’</p> + +<p>“I might ’ave saved my breath; and the gal +was a’most as upset as ’e was. Alf Stevens +was still outside talking to ’imself, and when +I called out to ask whether he’d like a cough-lozenge +they both caught ’old of me and asked +me not to make ’im worse.</p> + +<p>“‘Think of poor Charlie,’ ses the gal.</p> + +<p>“They was both of ’em in such a state I +didn’t like to leave ’em, so I found a little +box for myself and sat down to keep ’em +company. I told ’em some of the things wot +’ad happened to me while I was at sea; ’ow +I’d nearly been shipwrecked three times, and +’ow on one ship we was short-’anded cos ’arf +the hands was below in their bunks through +fighting me. Then I made ’em feel the place +on my ’ead where I’d been hit with the leg +of a chair, but nothing seemed to cheer ’em +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span>up, and arter wasting about an hour of my +time I got up and left ’em.</p> + +<p>“I done a bit o’ tidying up fust and then +I went into the office and ’ad a look at the +newspaper. By the time I’d done that it was +getting late, and I was just getting up to see +’ow Charlie and Maud was getting on when +I see them looking at me through the winder.</p> + +<p>“‘It’s time we was going,’ ses Charlie.</p> + +<p>“‘I’ll come and open the gate for yer,’ I +ses, feeling in my pocket.</p> + +<p>“‘And wot about Alf?’ ses Charlie.</p> + +<p>“‘Well, wot about ’im?’ I ses.</p> + +<p>“‘Has ’e gorn?’ he ses.</p> + +<p>“‘Must ha’ done,’ I ses. ‘You’ll get Alf +on the brain if you ain’t careful. Besides, if +’e ain’t, he couldn’t ’urt you much to-night. +Think wot a smash he ’it that gate with ’is +fist.’</p> + +<p>“‘I don’t like to think of it,’ he ses, with +a shiver; ’it might ’ave been me.’</p> + +<p>“‘Well, I’ll go and see if the coast is clear,’ +I ses at last.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span></p> + +<p>“I crept on tiptoe to the gate and unlocked +it without a sound. Then I began opening +it very gentle, and I ’ad just got it open about +six inches when Mister Alf rushed at it with +’is shoulder.</p> + +<p>“He got ’arf-way in and then ’e stuck. I +stood agin it like a rock, and then I began to +shut it, very slow. Nine stone don’t stand +much chance agin fifteen, and swearing +didn’t ’elp ’im. He was ’arf in and ’arf out, +and, after squeedging ’im for a little while I +talked to ’im about manners, I put my ’and on +his chin and flung ’im into the road.</p> + +<p>“‘Now make a bolt for it,’ I ses to Charlie. +‘Quick! while you’re safe.’</p> + +<p>“‘<i>Safe!</i>’ ses Charlie. ‘’Ark at ’im!’</p> + +<p>“Alf was at it agin, and the thing wot ’e +said ’e would do to me when ’e got ’old of +me showed wot a nasty mind he’d got. I +locked the gate up, and then I stood for a +minute wondering wot was to be done.</p> + +<p>“‘We can’t stay ’ere all night,’ ses Charlie, +as we walked down the wharf.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span></p> + +<p>“‘No, I’ll see to that,’ I ses.</p> + +<p>“‘If we don’t go soon she’ll get it from ’er +father, and if we do go I shall get it from +Alf Stevens,’ he ses. ‘If you’d on’y pulled +’im inside while you ’ad the chance and ’eld +’im we could ha’ got away all right. You lost +your presence o’ mind.’</p> + +<p>“‘I’ll lose something else in a minute,’ I +ses, as soon as I could speak. ‘If you ’ad +the pluck of a mouse you’d go out and fight +’im now.’</p> + +<p>“‘Oh, don’t Charlie,’ ses the gal.</p> + +<p>“‘I won’t,’ he ses, ‘for your sake.’</p> + +<p>“They walked up and down arter that with +their arms round each other’s waists. It was +all ’is arm was fit for. I walked up and down +too, and while I was wondering ’ow to get +rid of ’em I suddenly remembered that one +o’ the lightermen ’ad left ’is skiff tied up in +the dock. I peeped over to make sure he +’adn’t taken it away, and then I went to +Charlie.</p> + +<p>“He paid up the five bob I asked ’im for +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span>neglecting my dooty, without a murmur. I +got into the boat fust, and the gal follered +as if she’d been used to ladders all ’er life. +Then I ’ad to go up again ’cos Charlie wanted +somebody to ’old ’is ankles while ’e came +down.</p> + +<p>“‘Wot are you going to do about meeting +’er now?’ I ses, as I started pulling.</p> + +<p>“‘I don’t know,’ he ses, ’arf crying.</p> + +<p>“‘I’ve got an idea,’ I ses, arter thinking a +bit, ‘but it ’ud cost you money if it comes +off.’</p> + +<p>“‘I don’t mind that,’ ses Charlie, sitting +up as if the Bank of England belonged to ’im. +‘Wot is the idea?’</p> + +<p>“‘Suppose Alf Stevens came round ’ere +next Friday,’ I ses, very gentle, ‘and thought +it was you, and it wasn’t.’</p> + +<p>“Charlie didn’t answer at fust; then ’e asked +me to say it all over agin.</p> + +<p>“‘Suppose it was a young feller I know +dressed up like you and sitting be’ind the +empties in the dark, pretending to make love +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span>to Maud,’ I ses, ‘and Alf comes along and sets +about ’im?’</p> + +<p>“‘Who is ’e?’ ses Charlie staring.</p> + +<p>“‘He’s a young feller wot’s very much +fancied by them as knows,’ I ses. ‘I see +’im boxing at ’Oxton one night, and ’e +was in a class all by ’imself. Wonderful, +it was.’</p> + +<p>“‘Do you think ’e could beat Alf?’ ses the +gal, clasping her ’ands.</p> + +<p>“‘Beat ’im?’ I ses. ‘I tell you this chap is a +<i>boxer</i>. One of the best at ’is weight I’ve ever +seen. Alf Stevens would ’ave about as much +chance with ’im as a baby would with its +nurse.’</p> + +<p>“‘Sounds all right,’ ses Charlie, considering. +‘It’s time somebody learnt ’im not to interfere +where ’e ain’t wanted.’</p> + +<p>“‘You be round on Friday night at seven,’ +I ses. ‘I think I can get ’im all right. +P’r’aps you’d better come by boat, in case of +accidents. Bring ten bob in your pocket +for Sid Groom—that’s ’is name—and five +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span>for me for my trouble, and you’ll find +it’s the best bargain you ever made in +your life.’</p> + +<p>“I put ’em ashore at the stairs, and then +rowed myself back to the wharf. It was as +quiet and peaceful as the grave; and though +I crept up to the gate and listened, I couldn’t +’ear nothing of Alf Stevens.</p> + +<p>“I went again in about an hour’s time and +looked out. At fust I thought he ’ad gorn, +then I see something like a ’ead peeping round +the corner.</p> + +<p>“‘Why don’t you go ’ome?’ I ses. ‘Charlie +ses he’ll ’arf kill you if you ain’t gorn in five +minutes.’</p> + +<p>“I thought that ’ud wake ’im up—and it +did. ’Ow he could think o’ such things was +a puzzle to me. And ’e did’nt ’ave to stop to +think, neither.</p> + +<p>“I believe ’e must ha’ stayed there pretty +near all night. I know ’e was there at two +in the morning, ’cos of ’arf a brick as took +a bit out o’ the gate instead of me, by mistake, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span>but ’e wasn’t there when the ’ands come on at +six o’clock.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t see ’im on my way ’ome, though +I was quite ready for ’im, and stopped at +every corner. I ’ad something to eat and a +few hours in bed, and then I went out to try +and find Sid Groom.</p> + +<p>“He was out, as usual, and if I went into +one pub I went into seven or eight. A man +with proper feelings can’t go into a pub without +’aving something for the good of the ’ouse, +and by the time I found Sid there wasn’t much +of Charlie’s five bob left. ’Arf an hour +arterwards there wasn’t any; and some of it +wasted on ginger-beer.</p> + +<p>“Sid didn’t like the idea of it at fust, ’cos +’e didn’t like hitting a man wot wasn’t a pro, +but arter I ’ad talked to ’im about the ten +bob and Maud’s blue eyes ’e gave way. He +was in training at the time for a fight with +a Bermondsey boy, and ’e said ’e might just +as well punch Alf Stevens for ’arf a quid as +a punching-ball for nothing.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span></p> + +<p>“‘Mind,’ I ses, ‘we want ’im to think it’s +Charlie, and if you keep your back to the light +and slip into ’im ’ard and quick, I don’t see +why ’e should know the difference.’</p> + +<p>“‘Wot’s Charlie like?’ he ses.</p> + +<p>“I told ’im.</p> + +<p>“‘’Ow about slipping into ’im instead of +the other bloke?’ he ses, spitting on the floor.</p> + +<p>“‘I don’t think he’d pay you ten bob for +that,’ I ses, shaking my ’ead at ’im. ‘You’ll +enjoy it all right once you start. And don’t +forget to put on a bowler-’at and a collar. +And don’t speak.’</p> + +<p>“He said something under ’is breath wot +sounded like a little bit of Alf Stevens, but +I didn’t take no notice, and afore I left ’im +’e promised faithful to come round and give +Alf the surprise of ’is life.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t see Charlie that evening, but a +dirty little boy came round with a letter +from ’im and I sent word back telling ’im +Friday would be all right. The only thing +that worried me was that Alf Stevens mightn’t +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span>be there, but as I see ’im prowling about soon +after the boy ’ad gorn, I ’adn’t got much fear.</p> + +<p>“Sid was the fust to turn up on Friday +night. In fact, I sent ’im on in front of me. +Good-looking young feller ’e was, and in a +bowler-’at and a clean collar ’e looked nicer +than I ’ad ever seen ’im. I stood talking to +’im till the foreman ’ad gorn, and then we +sat down on the jetty and waited for the others.</p> + +<p>“They came along by boat just afore seven, +and Charlie come up that ladder as if it was +a mile ’igh, and asking me to give ’im a ’and +when ’e got to the top. I interduced them in +a ’urry—to stop Sid’s mouth—and then I +went to the gate and looked out just to make +sure Alf Stevens was there.</p> + +<p>“He was. I lit the lamps soon arterwards, +all but the one near where they was going to +be, and then I sat down alongside Maud, and +was just going to show Sid ’ow to sit with his +’ead on ’er shoulder when she got up.</p> + +<p>“‘I know ’ow to do it,’ ses Sid, pushing me +away. ‘Just put them barrels a bit closer.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span></p> + +<p>“‘Wot for?’ I ses.</p> + +<p>“‘’Cos I can do it better when there’s +nobody looking,’ ’e ses.</p> + +<p>“‘Wot’s the good o’ doing it at all till Alf +comes?’ ses Charlie fidgeting.</p> + +<p>“Sid didn’t answer ’im. He ’elped move +one or two of the barrels ’imself, and then +we ’eard ’im tell Maud to come and sit down.</p> + +<p>“We stood there waiting for two or three +minutes, and then Charlie, arter fidgeting +about agin for a bit, put his ’ead over and +asked them ’ow they was getting on.</p> + +<p>“‘You mind your own bisness,’ ses Sid.</p> + +<p>“Charlie come back to me trembling all +over. ‘You go and speak to ’im,’ he ses at +last.</p> + +<p>“I waited a little while, and then I ses, in +a off-’and way: ‘Sid, I’m going to let Alf +Stevens in now. Be ready.’</p> + +<p>“‘You let ’im in when I tell you, and not +afore,’ ses Sid, very sharp. ‘We ain’t ’arf done +practising yet. I’m learning to be as much +like Charlie to ’er as possible, so as Alf +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span>Stevens won’t know the difference. And it +takes time.’</p> + +<p>“I thought Charlie would ha’ fainted, and +the things ’e said to me about my cleverness +you wouldn’t believe. If he ’ad only been as +good with ’is fist as ’is tongue he’d ’ave been +all right. It might a’most ha’ been my missis +talking to me.</p> + +<p>“I ’eard Big Ben strike eight, and then I +’eard a little whistle from Sid.</p> + +<p>“‘I think I know my piece now,’ he ses, +when I went over. ‘Tell Charlie to ’ide +’imself, and then open the gate.’</p> + +<p>“I put Charlie round the far corner and +told ’im not to move and not even to put +’is ’ead round until they was busy, and then +I walked up to the gate. I made a little noise +opening the wicket, and then I stepped outside +a yard or two and looked the wrong way, +and a’most afore you could say ‘knife’ +Alf Stevens bolted in and ran on to the +wharf.</p> + +<p>“‘’Ere!’ I ses, follering ’im up, ‘wot are +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span>you arter? Who told you to come on my +wharf?’</p> + +<p>“He took no more notice of me than if I +was a pet lamb. He stood looking all round +’im with his ’ead bent down, and then there +came the sound of two or three of the loudest +kisses I ever ’eard in my life. Alf Stevens +made a noise like a hyena wot wasn’t laughing, +and the next moment two of the barrels was +rolled out o’ the way and ’e stood looking at +the two of ’em cuddling each other on the +box.</p> + +<p>“‘Got—yer—at—last!’ he ses, grinding ’is +teeth.</p> + +<p>“He bent over to push Sid away, but ’e ’ad +got his ’ead buried in the gal’s shoulder and +was ’olding on to ’er as if ’e was frightened +out of ’is life.</p> + +<p>“‘Stand up!’ ses Alf, pullin’ ’im by the +collar—‘Stand up and take wot’s comin’ to +you.’</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_p027" style="max-width: 30em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_p027.png" alt=""> + <figcaption> + “‘STAND UP,’ SES ALF, PULLIN’ ’IM BY THE COLLAR—‘STAND + UP AND TAKE WOT’S COMIN’ TO YOU.’” + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>“Sid got up, stooping, with his ’at over ’is +eyes, and the next moment Alf was sitting on +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span>the ground wondering wot ’ad ’appened to ’im. +Then ’is memory come back to ’im and ’e got +up and rushed at Sid like a madman, but ’e +might as well ’ave tried to ’it the moon. Sid +was dancing all round ’im, punching ’im all +over the place, and every now and then knocking +’im down for a change.</p> + +<p>“I must say Alf was game. He fought as +long as ’e could stand, and ’e could ’ardly +walk as I ’elped ’im off the wharf. He +couldn’t see properly neither, ’cos he thought +I was somebody quite different and asked me +wot I ’ad done with my tail.</p> + +<p>“The others came along as I stood there +watching Alf ’obble away. Maud was ’anging +on to Sid’s arm and looking up into ’is face, +and Charlie was follering up be’ind making +noises like a lost kitten.</p> + +<p>“‘Didn’t want to pay me the ten bob,’ +ses Sid to me. ‘He soon altered ’is mind, +though.’</p> + +<p>“‘He—he’s got my young lady,’ ses +Charlie, ’arf crying, ‘and ten bob too.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a><a id="Page_28"></a><a id="Page_29"></a>[Pg 29]</span></p> + +<p>“‘Never mind,’ I ses, patting ’im on the +shoulder; ‘a gal like that ain’t worth troubling +about.’</p> + +<p>“‘Wot’s that?’ ses Sid, shoving ’is face into +mine. ‘Wot did you say?’</p> + +<p>“‘I mean, ’e oughtn’t to trouble about any +gal,’ I ses, very firm. ‘He ought to get a +little pet dog instead. A little dog as nobody +else wants.’</p> + +<p>“Sid stood looking at me for a moment; +then he put ’is arm round Maud’s waist and +they went off. Charlie and me stood watching +them till they was out of sight, and then ’e +told me wot ’e thought about Sid.</p> + +<p>“I felt a bit sorry for ’im, but arter all +bisness is bisness, and as ’e turned to go off +I laid my ’and on ’is sleeve and gave a little +laugh.</p> + +<p>“‘Yes?’ he ses.</p> + +<p>“‘Ain’t you forgot something?’ I ses.</p> + +<p>“‘Not as I knows of,’ ’e ses, staring.</p> + +<p>“‘Wot about my five bob?’ I ses.</p> + +<p>“I think ’is trouble must ’ave turned ’is +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span>brain. He gave a squeal that set my teeth +on edge, and afore I could take my ’ands out +o’ my pockets he ’ad given me four or five +bangs in the face as ’ard as ’e could hit. Then +’e turned round quick and run for all ’e was +worth.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="Taking_Pains"> + Taking Pains + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">Mr. Silvanus Key</span>, changing his +position in bed for the third time in +five minutes, lay on his back and +groaned lamentably.</p> + +<p>“I, shall never be well,” he murmured +faintly. “Forty-three, good-looking, with the +best moustache in the town, and done for.”</p> + +<p>“Has the pain come on again?” inquired +his wife softly.</p> + +<p>“Not what you could call pain,” said Mr. +Key. “There’s a red hot corkscrew going +through my left shoulder and a very capable +monkey-wrench trying to screw my knee-joints +out. The only time I get any rest is +when it leaves off to spit on its hands. <i>O-ow! +Ouch! O-o!</i>”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Key rose and, standing by the side of +the bed, gazed at him compassionately.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span></p> + +<p>“The doctor doesn’t seem to be doing you +much good,” she murmured.</p> + +<p>“That’ll do,” said the sufferer sharply. “He +is doing his best.”</p> + +<p>“So it seems,” said his wife dryly. “How +you can imagine that stuff out of a bottle +can cure you, I can’t think. It’s the soul +that wants treating, not the body. You +want to be bathed in a stream of healing +thought that would kill all those ideas of +pain and——”</p> + +<p>“<i>Ideas!</i>” shouted Mr. Key. “You wait till +you get rheumatism, and neuritis, and gout, +and sciatica, all mixed up together, and trying +to see which can be the worst. If that blessed +Circle of Healers, as you call it, was here I’d +punch its head.”</p> + +<p>“Some of them are women,” said his wife.</p> + +<p>Mr. Key remarked that he supposed women +possessed heads, some of them at any rate, +and, licking his lips, speculated on the good +to be achieved by knocking all the heads of +the Circle together.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span></p> + +<p>“Shake their brains up and make ’em +think,” he added.</p> + +<p>His wife sighed, and bestowed upon him a +look of tender and elevating love.</p> + +<p>“You are so wilful,” she murmured. “If +you would only see Mr. Punshon; no foolish +and nasty drugs; no clumsy interference with +that wonderful combination of soul and body +that we know as man. You are simply out +of tune with the infinite. <i>I</i> am never ill.”</p> + +<p>“You wouldn’t talk like that if you were,” +said Mr. Key. “You’d know better.”</p> + +<p>He lay back with closed eyes and pondered +gloomily. It was his first real illness and, to +an active man fond of rather more than his +share of the good things of this life, extremely +distasteful. He opened his eyes at a rather +sharper twinge than usual and, in a few ill-chosen +words, expressed his opinion that members +of the medical profession were as useless +as the Healers.</p> + +<p>“And we work for love,” said his wife, +improving the occasion.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span></p> + +<p>Mr. Key closed his eyes again, and +a faint and unseemly grin passed furtively.</p> + +<p>“Miss Olsen is a healer, isn’t she?” he +inquired. “The pretty one. Perhaps I +might——”</p> + +<p>“She is a neophyte,” said his wife coldly, +“the same as myself.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing doing,” murmured the graceless +Mr. Key. “Still, if she wants a little +practice——”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Key implored him not to make a jest +of solemn things, and spoke with some +eloquence of the marvellous cures effected by +Mr. Punshon. Her husband pointed out, +when she had finished, that she had omitted +the marvellous case of old Mr. Jackson, who, +after being bedridden for over three years, +was able, owing to the healer’s ministrations, +to spend the evenings of his life at the +Shakespeare Arms.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp80" id="i_p035" style="max-width: 28em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_p035.png" alt=""> + <figcaption> + THE MARVELLOUS CASE OF OLD MR. JACKSON, WHO, AFTER BEING + BEDRIDDEN FOR OVER THREE YEARS, WAS ABLE TO SPEND THE + EVENINGS OF HIS LIFE AT THE SHAKESPEARE ARMS + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>“It is easy to mock at things,” said Mrs. +Key, bitterly. “Mr. Punshon would cure him +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span>of that, but the artful old man won’t let him +go near him.”</p> + +<p>She went out of the room, and the invalid, +after turning in the bed with great care, lay +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span>gazing wistfully out of the window. There +was a cheerful hum from the street below, +and he thought with great bitterness of the +happy people there who knew nothing of Uric +Acid and its liking for hot joints. A visit +from the doctor next day depressed him still +more.</p> + +<p>“Another week or two?” he gasped.</p> + +<p>“You’re going on beau-ti-fully,” said the +other, with an admiring but thoughtless pat +on Mr. Key’s left knee. “Sorry.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t mind me,” said the sufferer coldly. +“Am I to go on taking that beastly physic +of yours?”</p> + +<p>The doctor nodded. “For some time,” he +said grinning. “Shut your eyes when you are +taking it and tell yourself it is a vintage port. +Smack your lips over it.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Key closed his eyes and groaned.</p> + +<p>“And don’t be too sorry for yourself,” +pursued the other. “You are not nearly so +bad as some of my poor patients. Not +nearly.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span></p> + +<p>Mr. Key, with a faint smile, said that he +could quite believe it. He also expressed his +firm belief that their troubles would soon be +over—one way or another.</p> + +<p>“The last bottle,” said his medical attendant, +breathing hard, “was not strong enough. +You are suffering from depression.”</p> + +<p>“You never see me at my best,” said the +other; “the moment you come into the +room——”</p> + +<p>“Good-bye,” said the doctor briskly.</p> + +<p>He went downstairs and, meeting in the +hall Mrs. Key, who had just come in, announced +in a loud voice that the patient was +much better. A louder voice from the sick-room +denied all knowledge of the fact.</p> + +<p>For two days the patient had no reason +to alter his opinion, but on the third he confided +to Mrs. Key, with a happy smile, that +he certainly felt much easier.</p> + +<p>“Since when?” inquired his wife, with a +mysterious expression on her face.</p> + +<p>Mr. Key pondered. “Yesterday afternoon +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span>I got the turn, I think. It’s nothing to laugh +at.”</p> + +<p>“I was not laughing, I was smiling,” said +his wife. “With happiness,” she added +hastily. “But I’m not surprised. Mr. +Punshon had a half-holiday yesterday afternoon.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Key gazed at her blankly.</p> + +<p>“And instead of going out and enjoying +himself stayed at home and gave you ‘absent +treatment.’”</p> + +<p>“Infernal impudence!” gasped the astonished +invalid. “I’ll—I’ll—Punshon——Oh, +Lord! How many people have you told!”</p> + +<p>“He could do you much more good if he +came into contact with you,” said his wife +timidly.</p> + +<p>“Fancy,” murmured the other brokenly, +“that ginger-bearded fraud—treating <i>me</i>! +Poor Johnson pulls me round and Punshon +steps in and takes the credit. I shall be the +laughing-stock of the town. Everybody +knows what I’ve said about him.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span></p> + +<p>“You’ve said things—to me—about Dr. +Johnson too,” said his wife.</p> + +<p>Mr. Key lay back and regarded her for +some time, deep in thought. “All right,” +he said at last, in a ferocious voice, “have it +your own way. I’ll give him a run for his +money. Punshon has put his hand to the +plough and he’d better finish the job. But +mind, I shall take the medicine.”</p> + +<p>His wife turned upon him a face that +literally shone with happiness. “It won’t +make much difference,” she said. “Mr. +Punshon’s force is much too strong for drugs +to interfere with it.”</p> + +<p>She brought the healer round the following +afternoon, and Mr. Key, gazing at the flabby, +bearded face, with its pouched eyes and +foolish mouth, waited breathlessly for developments.</p> + +<p>“I hope it is not going to be painful,” he +remarked.</p> + +<p>“We soothe,” said Mr. Punshon, in a deep +voice marred by adenoids.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span></p> + +<p>He took a chair by the bed, and taking the +patient’s hands in his own, leaned forward +and fixed upon him the healing glare of a +pair of pale and protuberant blue eyes. Mr. +Key, closing his, bit his lips to suppress a +smile.</p> + +<p>For twenty minutes the silence was unbroken +except for the odd noises in Mr. +Punshon’s air-passages. He released the +patient’s hands and, folding his arms, spoke +with authority.</p> + +<p>“You feel better!”</p> + +<p>“I do,” said Mr. Key in reverent tones. +“Waves of—something or other—seemed to +go right through me.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Punshon smiled and, taking out a +handkerchief, wiped his brow.</p> + +<p>“You mustn’t expect to be well all at once,” +he said, raising a warning hand. “Evil is not +destroyed in five minutes. I will come in and +give you further treatment to-morrow +evening.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Key thanked him, and for some time +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span>after his departure lay smiling seraphically +at the ceiling. Under the combined treatment +of Mr. Punshon and Dr. Johnson he improved +steadily, the wrath of the latter, when he heard +of his collaborator, doing the invalid, according +to his own account, more good than +medicine.</p> + +<p>“I’ve done with you,” said the doctor, fuming. +“It’s all over the town that Punshon has +cured you when I failed. What do you mean +by it?”</p> + +<p>“I’m not cured yet,” said the invalid +grimly. “Dear Brother Punshon has got to +do a lot more for me before he has finished. +I have an idea that I am going to be one of +his most difficult cases.”</p> + +<p>“All this stuff about Christian Science——” +began the doctor.</p> + +<p>“It’s nothing to do with Christian Science,” +retorted the other. “It’s a little special brand +of Punshon’s own. He is far too conceited to +adopt anybody else’s ideas. He is charged +with electricity—a living magnet, that’s the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span>idea, and, in a lesser degree, he thinks he is +able to magnetise his followers.”</p> + +<p>The doctor stood regarding him with a perplexed +grin.</p> + +<p>“What is the game?” he inquired bluntly.</p> + +<p>“Game?” repeated Mr. Key loftily. “There +is no ‘game.’ You don’t understand. Magnetic +healing is serious, most serious. So are +the healers. If they could see a joke they +wouldn’t be healers. Punshon couldn’t see +a joke if I put it in front of his nose and +burnt coloured lights round it.”</p> + +<p>“You might try,” suggested the other.</p> + +<p>“Get thee behind me, Satan,” said Mr. +Key severely. “Besides, I’m going to. +Meantime, you had better leave Punshon a +free hand. I don’t want you to get the credit +of his cure. You don’t want it either. If you +go, and I have a relapse——”</p> + +<p>The doctor nodded. “Nobody could expect +me to halve a patient with Punshon,” he +murmured.</p> + +<p>“Exactly,” said the other, “but you needn’t +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span>put it in quite such a surgical way. It’s not +nice. By the way——”</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“What about one weak whisky-and-soda a +day?” inquired Mr. Key in persuasive accents.</p> + +<p>The doctor stood for a time considering. +“Better ask Punshon,” he said at last, and +faded slowly from the room.</p> + +<p>A good man would have been moved by +the tender gratitude displayed by Mrs. Key +when she learnt that her husband had +abandoned drugs entirely, in favour of +spiritual treatment. The only effect on Mr. +Key was to confirm him in his iniquities. +His spirits rose and the hue of health returned +to his cheeks. And he praised Mr. Punshon +and his strange and beneficent power until +that gentleman nearly fell a victim to the +sin of pride.</p> + +<p>“Walk across the room,” he commanded.</p> + +<p>Mr. Key obeyed.</p> + +<p>“Your limbs are straight and supple,” +chanted the healer; “your body is strong; +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span>your soul is in command; you are +healed.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks to you,” breathed the admiring +Mrs. Key.</p> + +<p>“To-morrow you can go for a walk,” continued +Mr. Punshon to his patient. “My +work is finished.”</p> + +<p>Both husband and wife were certain as to +his exact words. In fact, the excellent Mrs. +Key repeated them to two or three friends +the same day. And yet, just before midnight, +she sat up in the small bed she occupied in +the sick-room almost persuaded that she had +heard a moan. Within the next minute five +full-grown moans, muffled by the bedclothes, +issued from the other bed.</p> + +<p>“Aren’t you well?” she inquired.</p> + +<p>“Well?” repeated Mr. Key, bringing his +head up and suppressing moan number six. +“Yes, of course I am. Didn’t Mr. Punshon +say I was?”</p> + +<p>In confirmation, he groaned three times and +wound up with a faint shriek.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span></p> + +<p>“What are you making that noise for +then?” inquired his wife, not unnaturally.</p> + +<p>Mr. Key made no reply. It was evident by +his lamentations that he wanted his breath +for other purposes. His wife slipped on a +dressing-gown and, lighting a candle, crossed +over to him.</p> + +<p>“What <i>is</i> the matter?” she said in alarm.</p> + +<p>“Don’t mind me,” said the invalid, with +a groan that made the ornaments on the +mantelpiece rattle. “Go to sleep.”</p> + +<p>His wife suppressed an obvious retort and +stood regarding him anxiously.</p> + +<p>“<i>O-o-o-o!</i>” said Mr. Key. “<i>A-a-a-h!</i>” +He wiped his brow with the sleeve of his +pyjamas and, uttering a faint sigh, was taken +suddenly with a series of noises in the throat +highly reminiscent of Mr. Punshon.</p> + +<p>“I wish I could stop that,” he said fretfully. +“I suppose it’s Punshon’s influence. +Perhaps I’m too receptive. <i>O-oh!</i> my leg!”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Key eyed him wistfully. “Which +one?” she inquired.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span></p> + +<p>“What the—what does that matter?” exclaimed +the sufferer. “Now it’s my shoulder. +The <i>left</i> one,” he added, bitterly. “Has Jane +gone to bed?”</p> + +<p>“Long ago,” replied his wife, staring.</p> + +<p>“I can’t bear it,” gasped the sufferer, wildly. +“You’ll have to tell her to get up and run +for the doctor.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Key clasped her hands. “Oh, +Silvanus!” she cried reproachfully.</p> + +<p>“I can’t help it,” muttered her husband. +“I’d rather have Punshon, of course, but I +don’t like to disturb him. He could stop it. +As soon as he got his blessed paw—hands—on +me, it would go.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll ask him to come round in the morning,” +said Mrs. Key.</p> + +<p>“I can’t wait,” moaned the sufferer. “I’m +sorry, but you’ll have to ask Jane to get up +and go for the doctor. It isn’t far.”</p> + +<p>His wife hesitated. “If you are no better +in ten minutes,” she said at last, “I’ll go and +ask Mr. Punshon to come.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span></p> + +<p>Mr. Key protested, and for fully five minutes +lay silent. At the end of that time he +gave a very fine representation of a soul in +torment.</p> + +<p>“Better take Jane with you,” he said in a +weak voice, as his wife began to dress.</p> + +<p>“I can’t leave you in the house alone,” she +murmured. “I’ll wake her up and let her +know I am going out. I shan’t be long.”</p> + +<p>She hurried upstairs, and a minute or two +later he heard the front door close.</p> + +<p>“Poor thing,” he murmured. “Poor thing. +It’s an infernal shame; but it’s all for her own +good.”</p> + +<p>He sat up in bed yawning, every now and +then releasing a groan for the benefit of the +listener upstairs. The time passed slowly, and +a feeling of drowsiness almost overcame him. +He hoped fervently that Punshon was as fond +of sleep as he was.</p> + +<p>He awoke with a start and sat up in bed, +listening. A continuous knocking and ringing +at the front door seemed to indicate that Mrs. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span>Key had forgotten to take the key with her. +It also proved that Jane could sleep as soundly +at one in the morning as at seven-thirty.</p> + +<p>With an idea that every little helped he +added a few whines to the noise below, but +in vain. The jangling of the bell was hideous, +the knocking incessant. Then he heard, in addition, +the boots of a heavy and possibly irritated +man kicking the paint off his front door +and voices of advice and instruction from his +neighbour’s bedroom window. He had just +come to the conclusion that the maid had +passed away in her sleep when he heard her +door open and an apologetic whirlwind pass +down the stairs.</p> + +<p>Mr. Punshon entered the room in silence +and, ignoring the faint smile with which the +sufferer endeavoured to greet him, took a +chair by the bedside and got to work with the +air of a man who was going to crowd half an +hour’s work into a few minutes. Mr. Key +sighed twice, and then his face resolved itself +into an expression of ineffable peace.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span></p> + +<p>“Magician!” he murmured.</p> + +<p>Mr. Punshon grunted and bestowed a smile +of conscious power upon the admiring Mrs. +Key.</p> + +<p>“It’s wonderful,” continued the sufferer. +“Wonderful! I wonder what caused the +relapse?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Punshon started. “You must have been +thinking wrong,” he said tartly.</p> + +<p>“I can’t remember doing so,” said Mr. Key +in a diffident voice. “I have only been congratulating +myself upon having the good +sense to take your treatment. It has been +a great joy to me. Great. I knew I +was going to get better when I put myself +into your hands. Else I shouldn’t have +done so.”</p> + +<p>The unconscious Mr. Punshon smiled +again. “Faith helps,” he admitted. “How do +you feel now?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Key looked into the red-rimmed, +sleepy eyes peering into his, and hesitated.</p> + +<p>“Almost free from pain,” he said, at length. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span>“There’s just a tiny bit troubling me in the +left knee-cap.”</p> + +<p>The healer diverted his gaze to a knob in +the bedclothes, and concentrated upon it until +the veins stood out on his forehead. An unusual +amount of gurgling and choking testified +to his absorption.</p> + +<p>“Did I say ‘left’?” inquired Mr. Key, as +the other wiped his brow. “How stupid of +me; I meant ‘right.’”</p> + +<p>He brought another knob into prominence +and, patting it for Mr. Punshon’s guidance, +waited with calm confidence while the other +swallowed a gurgle that threatened to choke +him.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid Mr. Punshon is tired,” said +Mrs. Key.</p> + +<p>“He never tires of good works,” said her +husband, reproachfully.</p> + +<p>Mr. Punshon smiled wanly and, suppressing +a yawn, continued his ministrations.</p> + +<p>“I feel so selfish lying here snug and warm +in bed and keeping you out of yours,” said +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span>Mr. Key. “But perhaps you don’t care much +for sleep.”</p> + +<p>“Eight hours,” said Mr. Punshon somewhat +shortly. “Always. Any pain in the +knee now?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Key shook his head. “It’s gone,” he +said in a hushed voice.</p> + +<p>Mr. Punshon leaned back with a sigh, a +noisy sigh, of relief.</p> + +<p>“Into my left shoulder,” continued the invalid +querulously.</p> + +<p>Mr. Punshon got up with great suddenness +and stood glowering at him. Mrs. Key, with +her hands clasped, eyed them in silent dismay.</p> + +<p>“Please don’t trouble any more,” said Mr. +Key gently. “I’m afraid it is a difficult case. +Too difficult, perhaps. I ought not to have +bothered you. I suppose Johnson would have +pulled me round, in time.”</p> + +<p>He closed his eyes wearily and lay back +listening in great content to an excited +whispering between his wife and the healer. +Then he heard the chair creak and felt a pair +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span>of clammy hands take his. For some time the +stertorous breathing of Mr. Punshon was the +only sound in the room. Then even +that ceased and Mr. Key, opening his eyes +to ascertain the reason, discovered to his indignation +that the healer had gone. Daylight +was coming in at the window, and it was only +too clear that his victim had taken advantage +of the sleep into which Mr. Key had fallen, +to escape. A clock downstairs struck five. He +groaned in spirit, but soon coming to the conclusion +that that was no good, gave utterance +to several fleshly ones. The other bed creaked.</p> + +<p>“Do you want anything?” inquired Mrs. +Key sleepily.</p> + +<p>“Where’s Punshon?” demanded her husband +in an aggrieved voice.</p> + +<p>“Why, he left hours ago,” said Mrs. Key, +sitting up. “He put you into a refreshing +slumber and went.”</p> + +<p>“Fetch him back,” said the invalid, briefly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Key’s cry of consternation left him +unmoved. Mr. Punshon had taken the case +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span>out of the doctor’s hands by giving absent +treatment in the first place, and, after that, +had taken full charge. In a stern voice, +broken by pain and marred by snufflings, Mr. +Key ordered him to be fetched forthwith.</p> + +<p>“I can’t,” said his wife desperately.</p> + +<p>“Well, will you please go and ask him +whether he has any objection to my consulting +Dr. Johnson?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Key went—but only after a long +argument—to return an hour later with a +ferocious and demoralised-looking Mr. Punshon, +who, advancing reluctantly to the foot +of the bed, stood there gobbling.</p> + +<p>“Good of you!” murmured the invalid.</p> + +<p>Mr. Punshon took not the slightest notice.</p> + +<p>“I do hope this pain will soon go,” continued +Mr. Key. “I don’t want to fetch you +out of your bed every night. I know you +don’t mind, still——”</p> + +<p>Mr. Punshon stared at him and endeavoured—but +in vain—to concentrate his +mind upon healing.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span></p> + +<p>“I suppose I can’t have that walk you spoke +of, to-day,” said Mr. Key. “It’s very disappointing. +I was looking forward to it. +I wanted to go round and tell people what +mental healing had done for me. Some of +them are so incredulous.”</p> + +<p>“You must have patience,” said the healer. +“Fifty years of wrong living——”</p> + +<p>“Forty-three,” murmured the invalid. +“And I feel younger since you have +been treating me. It almost seems as +though your healthy, virile spirit has +become part of myself. I feel different. +A better man. I think differently. +I—I breathe differently. How is Mrs. +Punshon?”</p> + +<p>“She is quite well, thank you,” said the +healer with some surprise.</p> + +<p>Mr. Key half closed his eyes and a seraphic +smile played around his lips. “I dream of +her,” he said softly.</p> + +<p>“<i>Dream!</i> Dream of her? Dream of <i>my +wife</i>?” stuttered the outraged husband in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span>tones that nearly drowned the exclamation of +the startled Mrs. Key.</p> + +<p>Mr. Key nodded. “Ever since you started +treating me,” he replied. “It’s very curious. +I suppose your powerful mind has overcome +mine and your thoughts have become my +thoughts. Have any of your other +patients——?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” interrupted the other with +violence.</p> + +<p>Mr. Key sighed. “It’s very curious,” he repeated. +“I dreamt of her three times last night. +And there’s another funny thing; since this +treatment started I have had an almost +irresistible craving for whisky. Do you——”</p> + +<p>“I’m a life-long teetotaller,” said the glaring +Mr. Punshon.</p> + +<p>He stood breathing noisily for a few seconds +and then, with a violent gesture, turned and +walked towards the door.</p> + +<p>“Aren’t you going to give me treatment?” +inquired Mr. Key in a surprised voice.</p> + +<p>Mr. Punshon made no reply, but the slamming +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span>of the front door spoke volumes. Mr. +Key turned and eyed his wife.</p> + +<p>“He has given the case up,” he said, shaking +his head. “After breakfast you must send +Jane round for the doctor. I can’t go on like +this.”</p> + +<p>He saw the doctor a few hours later, and +after a lengthy explanation—with Mrs. Key +holding a watching brief for the absent Mr. +Punshon—requested him to treat him for the +old complaint plus incipient adenoids, a nasty +trick of biting his finger-nails, a lamentable +craving for whisky, and a few other matters.</p> + +<p>“I am sorry you spoke so freely,” said Mrs. +Key after the doctor had gone. “He might +talk.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” said her husband darkly. +“He never repeats anything his patients would +mind.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="His_Brothers_Keeper"> + His Brother’s Keeper + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">Anthony Keller</span>, white and +dazed, came stumbling out into the +small hall and closed the door of his +study noiselessly behind him. Only half an +hour ago he had entered the room with Henry +Martle, and now Martle would never leave +it again until he was carried out of it.</p> + +<p>He took out his watch and put it back again +without looking at it. He sank into a chair +and, trying to still his quivering legs, strove +to think. The clock behind the closed door +struck nine. He had ten hours; ten hours +before the woman who attended to his small +house came to start the next day’s work.</p> + +<p>Ten hours! His mind refused to act. There +was so much to be done, so much to be thought +of. God! If only he could have the last ten +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span>minutes over again and live it differently. If +Martle only had not happened to say that it +was a sudden visit and that nobody knew of it.</p> + +<p>He went into the back room and, going to +the sideboard, gulped down half a tumbler of +raw whisky. It seemed to him inconceivable +that the room should look the same. This +pleasant room, with etchings on the walls, and +his book, face downwards, just as he had left +it to answer Martle’s knock. He could hear +the knock now, and——</p> + +<p>The empty tumbler smashed in his hand, +and he caught his breath in a sob. Somebody +else was knocking. He stood for a moment +quivering, and then, wiping some of the blood +from his hand, kicked the pieces of glass aside +and stood irresolute. The knocking came +again, so loud and insistent that for one +horrible moment he fancied it might arouse +the thing in the next room. Then he walked +to the door and opened it. A short sturdy +man, greeting him noisily, stepped into the +hall.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span></p> + +<p>“Thought you were dead,” he said breezily. +“Hallo!”</p> + +<p>“Cut myself with a broken glass,” said +Keller, in a constrained voice.</p> + +<p>“Look here, that wants binding up,” said +his friend. “Got a clean handkerchief?”</p> + +<p>He moved towards the door, and was about +to turn the handle when Keller flung himself +upon him and dragged him back. “Not +there,” he said thickly. “Not there.”</p> + +<p>“What the devil’s the matter?” inquired the +visitor staring.</p> + +<p>Keller’s mouth worked. “Somebody in +there. Come here.”</p> + +<p>He pushed him into the back room and in +a dazed fashion motioned him to a chair.</p> + +<p>“Thanks, rather not,” said the other stiffly. +“I just came in to smoke a pipe. I didn’t know +you had visitors. Anyway, I shouldn’t eat +them. Good night.”</p> + +<p>Keller stood staring at him. His friend +stared back, then suddenly his eyes twinkled +and he smiled roguishly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span></p> + +<p>“What have you got in there?” he +demanded, jerking his thumb towards the +study.</p> + +<p>Keller shrank back. “Nothing,” he +stammered. “Nothing—no——”</p> + +<p>“Ho, ho!” said the other. “All right. +Don’t worry. Mum’s the word. You quiet +ones are always the worst. Be good.”</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp80" id="i_p061" style="max-width: 28em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_p061.png" alt=""> + <figcaption> + “HO, HO,” SAID THE OTHER. “ALL RIGHT—DON’T + WORRY—MUM’S THE WORD.” + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>He gave him a playful dig in the ribs and +went out chuckling. Keller, hardly breathing, +watched him to the gate and, closing the door +softly, bolted it and returned to the back +room.</p> + +<p>He steadied his nerves with some more +whisky, and strove to steel himself to the task +before him. He had got to conquer his horror +and remorse, to overcome his dread of the +thing in the next room, and put it where no +man should ever see it. He, Anthony Keller, +a quiet, ordinary citizen, had got to do this +thing.</p> + +<p>The little clock in the next room struck +ten. Nine hours left. With a soft tread he +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span>went out at the back door and, unlocking the +bicycle-shed, peered in. Plenty of room.</p> + +<p>He left the door open and, returning to the +house, went to the door of the study. Twice +he turned the handle—and softly closed the +door again. Suppose when he looked in at +Martle, Martle should turn and look at him? +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span>He turned the handle suddenly and threw the +door open.</p> + +<p>Martle was quiet enough. Quiet and peaceful, +and, perhaps, a little pitiful. Keller’s +fear passed, but envy took its place. Martle +had got the best of it after all. No horror-haunted +life for him; no unavailing despair +and fear of the unknown. Keller, looking +down at the white face and battered head, +thought of the years before himself. Or +would it be weeks? With a gasp he +came back to the need for action, and +taking Martle by the shoulders drew him, +with heels dragging and scraping, to the +shed.</p> + +<p>He locked the door and put the key in his +pocket. Then he drew a bucket of water from +the scullery-tap and found some towels. His +injured hand was still bleeding, but he regarded +it with a sort of cunning satisfaction. +It would account for much.</p> + +<p>It was a long job, but it was finished at last. +He sat down and thought, and then searched +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span>round and round the room for the overlooked +thing which might be his undoing.</p> + +<p>It was nearly midnight, and necessary, unless +he wanted to attract the attention of any +passing constable, to extinguish or lower the +companionable lights. He turned them out +swiftly, and, with trembling haste, passed +upstairs to his room.</p> + +<p>The thought of bed was impossible. He +lowered the gas and, dropping into a chair, +sat down to wait for day. Erect in the chair, +his hands gripping the arms, he sat tense and +listening. The quiet house was full of faint +sounds, odd creakings, and stealthy rustlings. +Suppose the suddenly released spirit of +Martle was wandering around the house!</p> + +<p>He rose and paced up and down the room, +pausing every now and then to listen. He +could have sworn that there was something +fumbling blindly at the other side of the door, +and once, turning sharply, thought that he saw +the handle move. Sometimes sitting and +sometimes walking, the hours passed until +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span>in the distance a cock smelt the dawn, and a +little later the occasional note of a bird +announced the approach of day.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>In the bright light of day his courage +returned, and, dismissing all else from his +mind, he thought only of how to escape the +consequences of his crime. Inch by inch he +examined the room and the hall. Then he +went into the garden, and, going round the +shed, satisfied himself that no crack or hole +existed that might reveal his secret. He +walked the length of the garden and looked +about him. The nearest house was a hundred +yards away, and the bottom of the garden +screened by trees. Near the angle of the fence +he would dig a shallow trench and over it pile +up a rockery of bricks and stones and earth. +Once started he could take his time about it, +and every day would make him more and +more secure. There was an air of solidity and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span>permanency about a rockery that nothing else +could give.</p> + +<p>He was back in the house when the charwoman +arrived, and in a few words told her +of his accident of the night before. “I cleaned +up the—the mess as well as I could,” he +concluded.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Howe nodded. “I’ll have a go at it +while you’re having your breakfast,” she remarked. +“Good job for you, sir, that you +ain’t one o’ them as faints at the sight of +blood.”</p> + +<p>She brought coffee and bacon into the little +back dining-room, and Keller, as he sat +drinking his coffee and trying to eat, heard +her at work in the study. He pushed away +his plate at last, and filling a pipe from which +all flavour had departed sat smoking and +thinking.</p> + +<p>He was interrupted by Mrs. Howe. She +stood in the doorway with a question which +numbed his brain, and for a time arrested +speech.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span></p> + +<p>“Eh?” he said at last.</p> + +<p>“Key of the bicycle-shed,” repeated the +woman, staring at him. “You had a couple +o’ my dusters to clean your bicycle with.”</p> + +<p>Keller felt in his pockets, thinking, thinking. +“H’mm!” he said at last, “I’m afraid +I’ve mislaid it. I’ll look for it presently.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Howe nodded. “You do look bad,” +she said, with an air of concern. “P’r’aps you +hurt yourself more than what you think.”</p> + +<p>Keller forced a smile and shook his head, +sinking back in his chair as she vanished, and +trying to control his quivering limbs.</p> + +<p>For a long time he sat inert, listening dully +to the movements of Mrs. Howe as she bustled +to and fro. He heard her washing the step +at the back door, and, after that, a rasping, +grating noise to which at first he paid but +little heed. Then there was a faint, musical +chinking as of keys knocking together. +<i>Keys!</i></p> + +<p>He sprang from his chair like a madman, +and dashed to the door. Mrs. Howe, with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span>a bunch of odd keys tied on a string, had +inserted one in the lock of the bicycle-shed, +and was striving to turn it.</p> + +<p>“Stop!” cried Keller, in a dreadful voice. +“<span class="smcap">Stop!</span>”</p> + +<p>He snatched the keys from her, and, +flinging them from him, stood mouthing +dumbly at her. The fear in her eyes recalled +him to his senses.</p> + +<p>“Spoil the lock,” he muttered, “spoil the +lock. Sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. No +sleep all night. Neuralgia; ’fraid my nerves +are wrong.”</p> + +<p>The woman’s face relaxed and her eyes +softened. “I saw you weren’t yourself as soon +as I saw you this morning,” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>She went back into the house, but he +thought she eyed him curiously as she passed. +She resumed her work, but in a subdued +fashion, and, two or three times that morning +meeting his eyes, nervously turned away her +own. He realised at last that he was behaving +in an unusual fashion altogether. In and out +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span>of the house, and, in the garden, never far +from the shed.</p> + +<p>By lunch-time he had regained control of +himself. He opened a bottle of beer, and, +congratulating Mrs. Howe upon the grilling +of the chops, went on to speak of her husband +and the search for work which had been his +only occupation since his marriage ten years +before. Some of the fear went out of the +woman’s eyes—but not all, and it was with +obvious relief that she left the room.</p> + +<p>For some time after lunch Keller stayed in +the dining-room, and that in itself was unusual. +Two or three times he got up and +resolved, for the sake of appearances, to take +a short walk, but the shed held him. He dare +not leave it unguarded. With a great effort +he summoned up sufficient resolution to take +him to the bottom of the garden and start his +gruesome task.</p> + +<p>He dug roughly, avoiding the shape which +might have aroused comment from any chance +visitor. The ground was soft and, in spite +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span>of his injured hand, he made good progress, +breaking off at frequent intervals to listen, +or to move aside and obtain an unobstructed +view of the shed.</p> + +<p>With a short break for tea he went on with +his task until he was called in to his simple +meal at seven. The manual labour had done +him good and his appearance was almost +normal. To Mrs. Howe he made a casual +reference to his afternoon’s work and questioned +where to obtain the best rock-plants.</p> + +<p>With her departure after she had cleared +away, fear descended upon him again. The +house became uncanny and the shed a place +of unspeakable horror. Suppose his nerve +failed and he found himself unable to open +it! For an hour he paced up and down in +the long twilight, waiting for the dark.</p> + +<p>It came at last, and fighting down his fears +and nausea, he drew the garden-barrow up to +the shed, and took the key from his pocket. +He walked to the front gate, and looked up +and down the silent road. Then he came back +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span>and, inserting the key in the lock, opened the +door, and, in the light of an electric torch, +stood looking down at what he had placed +there the night before.</p> + +<p>With his ears alert for the slightest sound, +he took the inhabitant of the shed by the +shoulders, and, dragging it outside, strove to +lift it into the barrow. He succeeded at last, +and, with the rigid body balanced precariously +and the dead face looking up into +his, seized the handles and slowly and silently +took Martle to the place prepared for him.</p> + +<p>He did not leave him for a long time. +Not until the earth was piled high above him +in a circular mound and a score or two of +bricks formed the first beginnings of a rockery. +Then he walked slowly up the garden, +and, after attending to the shed, locked it up +and went indoors.</p> + +<p>The disposal of the body gave a certain +measure of relief. He would live, with time +for repentance, and, perhaps, for forgetting. +He washed in the scullery, and then, fearing +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span>the shadows upstairs, drew the heavy curtains +in the dining-room to shut in the light and +settled himself in an easy chair. He drank +until his senses were deadened; his nerves +quietened, his aching limbs relaxed, and he +fell into a heavy sleep.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>He awoke at six, and, staggering to his +feet, drew back the curtains and turned out +the gas. Then he went upstairs, and after disarranging +his bed went to the bathroom. The +cold water and a shave, together with a change +of linen, did him good. He opened doors +and windows, and let the clean sweet air blow +through the house. The house which he must +continue to inhabit because he dare not leave +it. Other people might not share his taste for +rockeries.</p> + +<p>To the watchful eye of Mrs. Howe he +appeared to be almost himself again. The +key of the shed had turned up, and he smiled +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span>as he presented her with her “precious +dusters.” Then he rode off on his bicycle to +order slabs of stone and plants from the nearest +nurseryman.</p> + +<p>He worked more and more leisurely as the +days passed, and the rockery grew larger and +more solid. Every added stone and plant +seemed to increase his security. He ate well, +and, to his surprise, slept well; but every +morning misery opened his eyes for him.</p> + +<p>The garden was no longer a place of quiet +recreation; the house, which was part of the +legacy that had so delighted him only a year +before, was a prison in which he must serve a +life-long sentence. He could neither let it +nor sell it; other people might alter the garden—and +dig. Since the fatal evening he had +not looked at a newspaper for fear of reading +of Martle’s disappearance, and in all that time +had not spoken to a friend.</p> + +<p>Martle was very quiet. There were no +shadows in the house, no furtive noises, no +dim shape pattering about the garden by +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span>night. Memory was the only thing that +assailed him; but it sufficed.</p> + +<p>Then the dream came. A dream confused +and grotesque, as most dreams are. He dreamt +that he was standing by the rockery, in the +twilight, when he thought he saw one of the +stones move. Other stones followed suit. A +big slab near the top came slithering down, +and it was apparent that the whole pile of +earth and stone was being shaken by some +internal force. Something was trying to get +out. Then he remembered that he was buried +there, and had no business to be standing outside. +He must get back. Martle had put him +there, and for some reason which he was quite +unable to remember he was afraid of Martle. +He procured his tools and set to work. It was +a long and tedious job and made more difficult +by the fact that he was not allowed to +make a noise. He dug and dug, but the grave +had disappeared. Then suddenly something +took hold of him and held him down; down. +He could neither move nor cry out.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span></p> + +<p>He awoke with a scream and for a minute +or two lay trembling and shaking. Thank +God, it was only a dream. The room was full +of sunlight, and he could hear Mrs. Howe +moving about downstairs. Life was good and +might yet hold something in store for him.</p> + +<p>He lay still for ten minutes, and was about +to rise when he heard Mrs. Howe running +upstairs. Even before her sudden and heavy +rapping on the door he scented disaster.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Keller! Mr. Keller!”</p> + +<p>“Well?” he said heavily.</p> + +<p>“Your rockery!” gasped the charwoman. +“Your beautiful rockery! All gone!”</p> + +<p>“<i>Gone?</i>” shouted Keller, springing out of +bed and snatching his dressing-gown from the +door.</p> + +<p>“Pulled all to pieces,” said Mrs. Howe, as +he opened the door. “You never see such a +mess. All over the place, as if a madman had +done it.”</p> + +<p>In a mechanical fashion he thrust his feet +into slippers and went downstairs. He hurried +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span>down the garden, and, waving the woman +back, stood looking at the ruin. Stones and +earth were indeed all over the place, but the +spot that mattered was untouched. He stood +gazing and trembling. Who could have done +it? Why was it done?</p> + +<p>He thought of his dream and the truth burst +upon him. No need for his aching back and +limbs to remind him. No need to remember +the sleep-walking feats of his youth. He knew +the culprit now.</p> + +<p>“Shall I go for the police?” inquired the +voice of Mrs. Howe.</p> + +<p>Keller turned a stony face upon her. “No,” +he said slowly. “I—I’ll speak to them about +it myself.”</p> + +<p>He took up the spade and began the task +of reconstruction. He worked for an hour, +and then went in to dress and breakfast. For +the rest of the day he worked slowly and +steadily, so that by evening most of the damage +had been repaired. Then he went indoors +to face the long night.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span></p> + +<p>Sleep, man’s best friend, had become his +unrelenting enemy. He made himself coffee +on the gas-stove and fought his drowsiness +cup by cup. He read and smoked and walked +about the room. Bits of his dream, that he +had forgotten, came back to him and stayed +with him. And ever at the back of his mind +was the certainty that he was doomed.</p> + +<p>There was only one hope left to him. He +would go away for a time. Far enough away +to render a visit home in his sleep impossible. +And perhaps the change of scene would +strengthen him and help his frayed nerves. +Afterwards it might be possible to let the +house for a time on condition that the garden +was not interfered with. It was one risk +against another.</p> + +<p>He went down the garden as soon as it was +light and completed his work. Then he went +indoors to breakfast and to announce his plans +for sudden departure to Mrs. Howe, his white +and twitching face amply corroborating his +tale of neuralgia and want of sleep.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span></p> + +<p>“Things’ll be all right,” said the woman. +“I’ll ask the police to keep an eye on the house +of a night. I did speak to one last night about +them brutes as destroyed the rockery. If they +try it again they may get a surprise.”</p> + +<p>Keller quivered but made no sign. He went +upstairs and packed his bag, and two hours +later was in the train on his way to Exeter, +where he proposed to stay the night. After +that, Cornwall, perhaps.</p> + +<p>He secured a room at an hotel and went for +a stroll to pass the time before dinner. How +happy the people in the streets seemed to be, +even the poorest! All free and all sure of their +freedom. They could eat and sleep and enjoy +the countless trivial things that make up life. +Of battle and murder and sudden death they +had no thought.</p> + +<p>The light and bustle of the dining-room +gave him a little comfort. After his lonely +nights it was good to know that there were +people all around him, that the house would +be full of them whilst he slept. He felt that +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span>he was beginning a fresh existence. In future +he would live amongst a crowd.</p> + +<p>It was late when he went upstairs, but he +lay awake for a few minutes. A faint sound +or two reached him from downstairs, and the +movements of somebody in the next room gave +him a comfortable feeling of security. With a +sigh of content he fell asleep.</p> + +<p>He was awakened by a knocking; a knocking +which sounded just above the head of +his bed and died away almost before he had +brushed the sleep from his eyes. He looked +around fearfully, and then, lighting his candle, +lay listening. The noise was not repeated. +He had been dreaming, but he could not remember +the substance of his dream. It had +been unpleasant, but vague. More than unpleasant, +terrifying. Somebody had been +shouting at him. <i>Shouting!</i></p> + +<p>He fell back with a groan. The faint +hopes of the night before died within him. +<i>He</i> had been shouting and the strange noise +came from the occupant of the next room. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span>What had he said? and what had his neighbour +heard?</p> + +<p>He slept no more. From somewhere below +he heard a clock toll the hours, and, tossing +in his bed, wondered how many more remained +to him.</p> + +<p>Day came at last and he descended to breakfast. +The hour was early and only two other +tables were occupied, from one of which, between +mouthfuls, a bluff-looking, elderly man +eyed him curiously. He caught Keller’s eye +at last and spoke.</p> + +<p>“Better?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>Keller tried to force his quivering lips to a +smile.</p> + +<p>“Stood it as long as I could,” said the other; +“then I knocked. I thought perhaps you were +delirious. Same words over and over again; +sounded like ‘Mockery’ and ‘Mortal,’ ‘Mockery’ +and ‘Mortal.’ You must have used them +a hundred times.”</p> + +<p>Keller finished his coffee, and, lighting a +cigarette, went and sat in the lounge. He had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span>made his bid for freedom and failed. He +looked up the times of the trains to town and +rang for his bill.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>He was back in the silent house, upon +which, in the fading light of the summer +evening, a great stillness seemed to have descended. +The atmosphere of horror had gone +and left only a sense of abiding peace. All +fear had left him, and pain and remorse had +gone with it. Serene and tranquil he went into +the fatal room, and, opening the window, sat +by it, watching the succession of shadowy tableaux +that had been his life. Some of it good +and some of it bad, but most of it neither good +nor bad. A very ordinary life until fate had +linked it for all time with that of Martle’s. +He was a living man bound to a corpse with +bonds that could never be severed.</p> + +<p>It grew dark and he lit the gas and took a +volume of poems from the shelves. Never +before had he read with such insight and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span>appreciation. In some odd fashion all his +senses seemed to have been sharpened and +refined.</p> + +<p>He read for an hour, and then, replacing the +book, went slowly upstairs. For a long time +he lay in bed thinking and trying to analyse +the calm and indifference which had overtaken +him and, with the problem still unsolved, fell +asleep.</p> + +<p>For a time he dreamt, but of pleasant, happy +things. He seemed to be filled with a greater +content than he had ever known before, a content +which did not leave him even when these +dreams faded and he found himself back in +the old one.</p> + +<p>This time, however, it was different. He +was still digging, but not in a state of frenzy +and horror. He dug because something told +him it was his duty to dig, and only by digging +could he make reparation. And it was a +matter of no surprise to him that Martle stood +close by looking on. Not that Martle he had +known, nor a bloody and decaying Martle, but +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span>one of grave and noble aspect. And there was +a look of understanding on his face that nearly +made Keller weep.</p> + +<p>He went on digging with a sense of companionship +such as he had never known before. +Then suddenly, without warning, the sun +blazed out of the darkness and struck him full +in the face. The light was unbearable, and +with a wild cry he dropped his spade and +clapped his hands over his eyes. The light +went, and a voice spoke to him out of the +darkness.</p> + +<p>He opened his eyes on a dim figure standing +a yard or two away.</p> + +<p>“Hope I didn’t frighten you, sir,” said the +voice. “I called to you once or twice and then +I guessed you were doing this in your sleep.”</p> + +<p>“In my sleep,” repeated Keller. “Yes.”</p> + +<p>“And a pretty mess you’ve made of it,” +said the constable, with a genial chuckle. +“Lord! to think of you working at it every day +and then pulling it down every night. Shouted +at you I did, but you wouldn’t wake.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span></p> + +<p>He turned on the flashlight that had dazzled +Keller, and surveyed the ruins. Keller stood +by, motionless—and waiting.</p> + +<p>“Looks like an earthquake,” muttered the +constable. He paused, and kept the light +directed upon one spot. Then he stooped +down and scratched away the earth with his +fingers, and tugged. He stood up suddenly +and turned the light on Keller, while with the +other he fumbled in his pocket. He spoke in +a voice cold and official.</p> + +<p>“Are you coming quietly?” he asked.</p> + +<p>Keller stepped towards him with both hands +outstretched.</p> + +<p>“I am coming quietly,” he said, in a low +voice. “Thank God!”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="Trust_Money"> + Trust Money + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> night-watchman set his lips and +shook his head.</p> + +<p>“You can’t learn people,” he said +firmly; “it ain’t to be done. They all know +better than wot you do, and the more iggernerant +they are the more they are satisfied with +themselves. I once wasted a whole morning +telling my missus ’ow to make a steak-pudding, +and arter it was done we ’ad to give it to the +people next door. She’s never forgot it, and +to hear ’er talk—if you didn’t know ’er—you’d +think it was my fault. The way she +twists things round would surprise anybody as +wasn’t married.”</p> + +<p>He gazed meditatively at a passing tug with +its string of barges, and shook his head again +before continuing:</p> + +<p>“Even experience don’t learn people. One +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span>chap I know used to save ’is money in a little +tin money-box. He ’ad ’arf a ounce o’ baccy +a week and no beer. The box was so full o’ +sixpences he was thinking of getting another, +when his wife’s brother lost ’is job and didn’t +get another till the box was empty.</p> + +<p>“You’d ha’ thought that would ’ave learned +’im a lesson, but it didn’t, and he’d pretty near +got another box full when ’is wife ’ad the artfulness +to break her leg and ’ad to go to the +seaside for a fortnight to get well. He’s saving +up agin now for wot ’e calls a rainy day. He’ll +get it all right, and somebody else’ll get the +money.</p> + +<p>“Sailormen never learn anything. If they +did they wouldn’t be sailormen. They’re like +children that never grow up. It don’t matter +where they go ashore with their money, they +always go back aboard agin without it.</p> + +<p>“I remember one time when old Sam Small +was ashore with Peter Russet and Ginger Dick +’aving wot they called a rest; their idea of a +rest being spending ’arf the day in bed and the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span>other ’arf leaning up agin the bar of a public-’ouse +telling fairy-tales to the barmaid. They +was like three twins for the fust few days, and +then Sam wouldn’t ’ave nothing more to do +with ’em owing to them telling the barmaid at +the ‘Turk’s Head’—a very nice gal with yeller +’air and black eyes—that he ’ad got a wife and +thirteen children at Melbourne.</p> + +<p>“He walked ’ome in front of ’em as if they +wasn’t there, and when ’e shut the front door +he seemed to ’ave the same idea. Ginger +noticed it most—being just behind ’im. They +’ad words about it when they got upstairs, and +Sam told ’em plain that he never wanted +to see their faces agin; not even if they +washed ’em.</p> + +<p>“He purtended to be asleep while they was +dressing next morning. His eyes was screwed +up tight, and it didn’t seem as if anything +could open ’em, till Ginger said ’e thought +he ’ad passed away in ’is sleep and asked Peter +to get a pin and make sure. Sam woke up +then, and, arter he ’ad finished speaking, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span>Ginger and Peter said they never wanted to +see <i>his</i> face agin.</p> + +<p>“They went off by theirselves, and arter a +time Sam got up and went off by ’imself. He +didn’t see anything of Peter or Ginger at all +that day, but from wot the barmaid ’ad to say +about ’is grandchildren ’e found they ’ad spent +a lot o’ time drinking beer and telling more lies +at the ‘Turk’s Head.’</p> + +<p>“He sat up in bed and spoke to ’em about +it when they came in that night, but they +wouldn’t listen to ’im. They said that ’is +troubles didn’t concern them and they’d be +thankful if he’d take ’em somewhere else.</p> + +<p>“‘We’ve done with you,’ ses Ginger.</p> + +<p>“‘For ever,’ ses Peter. ‘And my advice to +you, Sam, is to leave off afore you bursts a +blood-vessel. Anybody might think the ’ouse +was on fire.’</p> + +<p>“Sam didn’t speak to them at all arter that +and they didn’t speak to ’im, but they ’ad a +great deal to say about ’im to each other when +’e was in the room. It was wot Ginger called +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span>a nasty subjeck, but they never seemed to get +tired of it.</p> + +<p>“Sam ’ad made up ’is mind to leave ’em and +go off on his own, and then ’e came ’ome one +night so full of excitement ’e forgot all about +it. He came into the room like a schoolboy +and gave ’em such a nice smile they thought +he ’ad lost ’is reason. Then he done a little +dance all by ’imself in the middle of the room +and sat down on ’is bed and laughed.</p> + +<p>“‘I’ve come into a forchin,’ he ses to Peter +as the two of ’em stood staring at ’im. ‘Leastways, +I shall to-morrer night.’</p> + +<p>“Ginger coughed. But not a disagreeable +cough, mind you.</p> + +<p>“‘Come into a forchin?’ he ses. ‘’Ow?’</p> + +<p>“Old Sam didn’t seem to hear ’im. He sat +on his bed all rosy with smiles and looking +straight at the chest o’ drawers as though ’e +saw a pile of gold on top of it.</p> + +<p>“‘And I owe it all to you and Peter, +Ginger,’ he ses, bending down to undo ’is +boots. ‘If you ’adn’t been misbe’aved, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span>carrying on like a couple of bald-faced +monkeys purtending to be men, I shouldn’t +’ave gone off on my own, and if I ’adn’t ha’ +gone off on my own I shouldn’t ’ave met ’em.’</p> + +<p>“‘Met who?’ ses Ginger, who was too +excited to take any notice of wot he ’ad said +about monkeys.</p> + +<p>“‘Two o’ the best,’ ses Sam; ‘two gentlemen +whose on’y objeck in life is to do good to their +fellow-creechers. They told me so theirselves.’</p> + +<p>“‘Did you stand ’em drinks?’ ses Peter, +catching Ginger’s eye.</p> + +<p>“‘You’ve got a low mind, Peter,’ ses Sam, +shaking his ’ead; ‘you ought to be more careful +who you go about with. I’ve ’ad six drinks +to-night, or maybe more, and I didn’t pay for +one of ’em. They wouldn’t let me.’</p> + +<p>“‘You don’t always try very ’ard,’ ses Peter, +who was beginning to lose his temper.</p> + +<p>“‘Wot ’ave they got to do with your +forchin?’ ses Ginger.</p> + +<p>“‘It’s coming through them,’ ses Sam, ‘and +if you and Peter was diff’rent, if you was on’y +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span>’arf men instead of—of being wot you are, I +would get forchins for you too. There’s plenty +more where mine’s coming from.’</p> + +<p>“‘Where’s that?’ ses Ginger, trying to speak +off-hand.</p> + +<p>“Sam turned deaf agin, and was just going +to get into bed when Ginger stopped ’im +gentle-like and turning down the bed-clo’es +took out a ’air-brush, an old horse-shoe, a lump +o’ soap, and a few other things wot ’im and +Peter ’ad put there.</p> + +<p>“‘The ’orse-shoe was for luck, Sam,’ he ses, +with a smile. ‘P’r’aps it’s through that you got +your forchin.’</p> + +<p>“Sam looked at ’im as if he was looking at +a dust-bin with a bad smell, and then without +a word he got into bed and, putting his ’ead on +the piller, shut ’is eyes and went straight off to +sleep. Ginger woke up the next morning +dreaming that the ’ouse was on fire. The room +was full o’ smoke, but the moment ’e got ’is +eyes open he saw that it was made by Sam, who +was sitting up in bed smoking an enormous +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span>cigar with a red-and-gold band stuck on it. +He purtended not to see that Ginger was looking +at ’im, and the airs and graces he see fit to +give ’imself with that cigar nearly made +Ginger choke. Peter Russet woke up then, +and arter he ’ad sniffed and sniffed as if ’e +couldn’t believe his nose, ’e asked Sam in a +nasty voice where he ’ad pinched it from.</p> + +<p>“‘It was give to me by one o’ the gentlemen +I was speaking of,’ ses Sam, knocking the ash +off down ’is neck by mistake. ‘He’s got a gold +case full of ’em.’</p> + +<p>“‘Gold case?’ ses Ginger.</p> + +<p>“‘With diamonds on it,’ ses Sam. ‘He said +’e would ’ave liked to give it to me, on’y it was +a birthday present from ’is little boy wot died +of whooping-cough.’</p> + +<p>“Ginger scratched his ’ead, and ’e kept on +scratching it till Sam said as ’ow it was vulgar, +and asked ’im to go out of the room to +do it.</p> + +<p>“‘But who are they?’ ses Peter Russet, arter +Ginger ’ad quieted down a bit.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span></p> + +<p>“‘Two gentlemen,’ ses Sam; ‘two gentlemen +wot knows another gentleman when they sees +’im.’</p> + +<p>“He laid down on ’is back and blew smoke +up to the ceiling, until Ginger and Peter sat +down on Ginger’s bed and tried to swaller +their pride and ask him to tell ’em all about it. +Ginger tried fust, but he ’adn’t swallered +enough, and when Sam sat up in bed and told +’im part of wot he thought of ’im, Peter took +his side and said that if Ginger ’ad on’y been +born without a mouth it ’ud be much better +for ’imself and everybody else. He gave +Ginger a poke in the ribs with ’is elbow +to keep ’im quiet, and said that if anybody +deserved to ’ave a forchin given ’im it was +Sam Small.</p> + +<p>“‘One o’ the best,’ he ses, giving Ginger +another poke with ’is elbow.</p> + +<p>“‘We all ’ave our faults, Peter,’ ses Sam, +with a kind smile, ‘else we should all be +angels.’</p> + +<p>“‘There ain’t no fat angels,’ ses Ginger, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span>pushing Peter’s elbow away. ‘They wouldn’t +look nice. All the angels I’ve seen in pikchers +’ave got beautiful figgers.’</p> + +<p>“Peter gave it up then, and arter telling +Ginger in a whisper wot a fool ’e was, he +picked up ’is trousers off of the floor and began +to dress. Neither of ’em took any more notice +o’ Sam, and arter laying still for a time watching +’em wash and telling Ginger that the soap +wouldn’t bite ’im he began talking to ’em of +’is own free will.</p> + +<p>“He told ’em of a nice, comfortable little +pub in a turning off the Mile End Road wot +he ’ad found on the evening before. A little +pub—clean as a new pin, and as quiet and +respectable as a front-parlour. Everybody +calling the landlady ‘Ma,’ and the landlady +calling most of ’em by their Christian names +and asking arter their families. There was +two poll parrots in cages, with not a bad word +between ’em—except once when a man played +the cornet outside—and a canary that almost +sang its little ’art out.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span></p> + +<p>“‘Wot about the two gentlemen that took a +fancy to you?’ ses Ginger.</p> + +<p>“Sam looked at ’im for a moment as if he +was surprised at ’im speaking to ’im.</p> + +<p>“‘There was on’y one at fust,’ he ses at last, +very slow, ‘a thin gentleman with a little black +moustache, a beautiful white collar, and a silk +necktie with a gold pin in it. He was drinking +port wine when I went in, and arter looking +me up and down, just for a moment, ’e asked +me to ’ave one with ’im.’</p> + +<p>“‘Wot for?’ ses Ginger.</p> + +<p>“‘He told me arterwards,’ ses Sam. ‘He +said as ’ow I was the living image of a cousin +of ’is wot ’ad lost his life at sea—saving others. +He said at fust he thought I was ’is ghost. +There was on’y me and ’im in that bar, and the +tears came into his eyes when ’e spoke of ’im.’</p> + +<p>“‘But wot about the forchin, Sam?’ ses +Ginger, arter waiting a bit. ‘Wot’s the ugly +cousin got to do with it?’</p> + +<p>“Sam sat up in bed and looked at ’im. Then +’e snapped his lips tight as if ’e was never +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span>going to open ’em agin and laid back on the +piller.</p> + +<p>“‘Go on, Sam, old man,’ ses Peter Russet; +‘if Ginger had ’arf your looks ’e wouldn’t be +so bad-tempered. He’s got a jealous dispersition. +You was just telling up about ’ow the +tears came into ’is eyes.’</p> + +<p>“‘We ’ad a long talk,’ ses Sam, arter looking +very ’ard at Ginger, ’and arter standing me +another glass o’ port wine ’e began to tell me +all about ’is troubles. He ’ad got hard up +through ’elping a friend, and ’e didn’t know +where to turn for money. He went into that +little pub with fourpence ha’penny in ’is +pocket and went out with five ’undred pounds.’</p> + +<p>“‘’Ow?’ ses Peter and Ginger, both speaking +at the same time.</p> + +<p>“‘While ’e was ’aving a fit of the miserables +in there and wondering wot ’e was going to +do,’ ses Sam, in a solemn voice, ‘the door +opened and a gentleman came in. A gentleman +wot goes about looking for feller-creechers +to do good to. That was ’ow the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span>gentleman as was standing me port wine got +’is five ’undred pounds.’</p> + +<p>“‘Did you see it?’ ses Ginger, in a nasty +voice.</p> + +<p>“‘I see more than that, Ginger,’ ses Sam, +speaking very low; ‘I see enough money last +night to make the three of us gentlemen for +life. And Mr. Cooper—that’s the gentleman +wot ’as it—goes about giving it away. He +gave the other gentleman, Mr. Jackson by +name, five ’undred pounds for trusting ’im. +He got talking to ’im and told ’im that a friend +of ’is had left ’im a forchin, and as he was a +rich man and didn’t want it ’e was giving it +away. But on’y to people that deserved it, +mind yer. And ’e said that the people ’e could +trust was them as trusted others.’</p> + +<p>“‘I can’t make ’ead or tail of it,’ ses +Ginger.</p> + +<p>“‘He took a good ’ard look at Mr. Jackson,’ +ses Sam, ’and then ’e put a thousand pounds +into his ’and and told ’im to go for a walk with +it while ’e waited for ’im in the pub. When +<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a><a id="Page_98"></a><a id="Page_99"></a>[Pg 99]</span>Mr. Jackson came back he asked ’im whether +<i>he</i> could trust <i>’im</i>, and Mr. Jackson, not ’aving +any money, trusted ’im with ’is gold watch and +chain, two rings, and a tie-pin. When ’e came +back he patted ’im on the back and gave ’im +five ’undred pounds. Mr. Jackson said ’e +cried like a child.’</p> + +<p>“‘’Cos he ’adn’t gone off with the thousand +pounds, d’ye mean?’ ses Ginger staring.</p> + +<p>“‘While he was telling me this,’ ses Sam +to Peter Russet, ‘who should come in but +Mr. Cooper ’imself—a short, fat gentleman +with blue eyes like a innercent child’s and +one o’ the kindest faces I ever see. It done +me good to look at ’im. He was a bit stand-offish +at fust, but arter a time we was all +’aving drinks together like brothers. And +then Mr. Jackson took ’im a bit to one side +and whispered to ’im, and I could see plain +that ’e was talking about me.’</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_p097" style="max-width: 30em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_p097.png" alt=""> + <figcaption> + “AND THEN MR. JACKSON TOOK ’IM A BIT TO ONE SIDE AND + WHISPERED TO ’IM, AND I COULD SEE PLAIN THAT ’E WAS TALKING + ABOUT ME.” + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>“‘Cut it short,’ ses Ginger, fidgeting.</p> + +<p>“‘I ain’t talking to you,’ ses Sam. ‘Ten +minutes arterwards <i>I</i> was going for a walk +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span>with a thousand pounds in my pocket in banknotes, +<i>and</i> the gold cigar-case. I couldn’t trust +’im when I came back as I ’ad on’y got four +bob in my pocket, but to-night I’m going to +meet ’im agin and trust ’im with all I’ve got. +And Mr. Jackson told me ’e wouldn’t be +surprised if I got a thousand pounds. He said +Mr. Cooper told ’im that he ’ad took a +partikler fancy to me.’</p> + +<p>“I can’t make ’ead or tail of it,’ ses Ginger, +‘but mark my words, Sam, there’s a catch in it +somewhere. Nobody ’ud take a fancy to you +unless they was going to get something out +of it.’</p> + +<p>“Sam didn’t take no notice of ’im. He got +up and dressed ’imself, and when they asked +’im wot he was going to do till evening, he +told ’em that was ’is business. Peter Russet +and Ginger spent the day together, both of +’em wondering, if Sam did get a forchin, +whether they couldn’t get one the same way. +At last, arter they had ’ad a few pints apiece, +they made up their minds to hang about till +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span>Sam came ’ome and then follow ’im, unbeknownst, +to the pub.</p> + +<p>“They didn’t wait for ’im in their room ’cos +they thought ’e might tumble to it, and he was +so late turning up that they began to think ’e +wasn’t coming ’ome fust arter all. Then about +ha’-past six they see ’im come round the corner +and go straight into the ’ouse.</p> + +<p>“It seemed ages afore he came out agin, and +when ’e did they see that he ’ad got ’is best +clo’es on and a new cap. They let ’im get a +good start, and then follered in a drizzling +rain which made the Minories and Whitechapel +full of umbrellas that kept getting in +between them and Sam, especially one that +nearly put Ginger’s eye out. It wasn’t till he +’ad turned into a quiet street off the Mile End +Road that they felt sure of ’im.</p> + +<p>“They follered, very careful, and then at +last they saw ’im stop at the door of a quiet +little pub at the corner of a dark little street. +There wasn’t a soul about, and, arter stopping +a moment to pull ’is cap straight, Sam pushed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span>opened the door and stepped inside. Ginger +and Peter, arter pinching each other’s arms in +their excitement, stood in a doorway a little +way off and waited.</p> + +<p>“‘I s’pose he’s drinking glasses and glasses +o’ port wine while we’re out ’ere in the wet,’ +ses Ginger, arter about ten minutes.</p> + +<p>“‘Why don’t they make ’aste?’ ses Peter +Russet. ‘I believe there’s a catch in it +somewhere.’</p> + +<p>“‘<i>H’sh!</i>’ ses Ginger, all of a sudden.</p> + +<p>“They drew back into the doorway and just +poked their ’eads out as they saw the pub door +open and a man come out. He stood a moment +waving his ’and to Sam, who they could see +standing near the bar, and then walked off +slow down the road.</p> + +<p>“‘Come on,’ ses Ginger. ‘Let’s see where he +goes.’</p> + +<p>“They followed as quiet as they could, and +then all at once they found themselves going +quicker and quicker to keep up with ’im. +Twice ’e went round corners, and when they +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span>got round they found ’e was ever so far in +front.</p> + +<p>“‘He’s been running,’ ses Ginger. ‘Come +on! He’s going off with Sam’s money!’</p> + +<p>“He started running as ’ard as he could, +with Peter just be’ind, and the man in front, +wot ’ad begun to run ’imself, left off—and +began to walk agin.</p> + +<p>“‘Wot d’ye want?’ he ses, as Ginger caught +’old of ’im, and afore Ginger could answer +’im he gave ’im a fearful bang in the face and +a kick in the leg that pretty near broke it.</p> + +<p>“Ginger gave two grunts, one for the smack +in the face and the other for the kick, and then +’e sailed in at ’im like a madman, and knocked +’im all over the place. His last punch got ’im +fair on the chin, and ’e went down in the gutter +like a lamb that ’as been pole-axed, and hit +’is ’ead on the kerb.</p> + +<p>“‘You’ve killed ’im,’ ses Peter, staring.</p> + +<p>“‘Good job, too,’ ses Ginger, thinking of ’is +pore leg. ‘Come on, let’s get Sam’s money +back.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp80" id="i_p104" style="max-width: 28em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_p104.png" alt=""> + <figcaption> + “‘YOU’VE KILLED ’IM,’ SES PETER, STARING. ‘GOOD JOB, TOO,’ SES + GINGER, THINKING OF ’IS PORE LEG. ‘COME ON, LET’S GET SAM’S + MONEY BACK.’” + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>“Peter looked be’ind ’im, and then, seeing +there was nobody about, ’elped Ginger to +empty the chap’s pockets. In less than a +minute they ’ad picked ’im as clean as a bone +and was hurrying off, Peter ’olding a watch +and chain in his ’and and Ginger stuffing +things into ’is pockets and saying that it wasn’t +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span>robbing to rob a thief. Especially a thief wot +kicked.</p> + +<p>“They lost their way for a bit, but Ginger +didn’t mind. He said the more they got lost +the ’arder it would be for anybody to find ’em, +but they got ’ome at last and, arter shutting the +bedroom door careful, emptied out their +pockets on to the bed and stood staring at each +other.</p> + +<p>“‘<i>We’ve</i> got the forchin, Peter,’ ses Ginger. +‘Count it agin to make sure.’</p> + +<p>“‘Twenty-seven pounds fourteen shillings +and threepence,’ ses Peter, ‘two watches and +chains—that one is Sam’s——’</p> + +<p>“‘One clasp knife,’ ses Ginger, ‘a bit o’ +lead-pencil, a gold cigar-case made o’ something +else, and a bundle of imitation banknotes. +That’s wot ’e trusted Sam with, I +expect, Peter.’</p> + +<p>“‘I wonder ’ow much of the twenty-seven +pounds is Sam’s?’ ses Peter +Russet.</p> + +<p>“‘I forgot that,’ ses Ginger. ‘He ought to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span>pay something for that kick on the leg I got, +though.’</p> + +<p>“Peter Russet, wot ’ad seen the leg, nodded. +‘I wouldn’t ’ave ’ad that kick for ten pounds,’ +he ses, in a kind voice. ‘If you ’ave to lose +your leg, Ginger, I wouldn’t have ’ad it for +fifty.’</p> + +<p>“Ginger ’ad another look at his leg, and +then, to prevent losing it, ’e bathed it with a +little cold water and put a bit o’ butter on it. +Arter which they went out as far as the Town +of Ramsgate public-’ouse to drink each other’s +’ealths.</p> + +<p>“It took ’em a long time, both of ’em being +very pleased with each other, but at last, after +the landlord ’ad been holding the door open +for ’em till ’is jaws ached, they went back +’ome. They both of ’em thought it was earlier +than wot it was, so they was quite surprised +when they found Sam ’ad got ’ome before them +and gone to bed.</p> + +<p>“‘Did—did you get the forchin, Sam?’ +ses Ginger, going over to the wash-stand +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span>and sousing ’is face with cold +water.</p> + +<p>“Sam gave a smile that made ’im look as if +he was ’aving a fit.</p> + +<p>“‘No, Ginger,’ he ses, very soft. ‘I remembered +your advice, old pal.’</p> + +<p>“‘Advice?’ ses Ginger, staring.</p> + +<p>“‘You said as ’ow there might be a catch +in it,’ ses Sam, ’and knowing wot a clever +’ead-piece you’ve got, Ginger, I thought it +over and made up my mind not to trust ’im.’</p> + +<p>“Peter Russet made a noise that an elephant +with the hiccups might ha’ been proud of, +and then Ginger went over and led ’im across +to the wash-stand.</p> + +<p>“‘You ’old your noise,’ he ses, pushing +Peter’s face into the water. ‘You didn’t lose +your money arter all, then?’ he ses, turning +to Sam.</p> + +<p>“‘No,’ ses Sam. ‘At least, not that way, +but arter I left the pub to come ’ome and see +you and Peter, I—I ’ad a misforchin.’</p> + +<p>“‘Misforchin?’ ses Ginger, staring at ’im.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span></p> + +<p>“‘I—I ’ad my p-pocket picked,’ ses Sam, +stuttering.</p> + +<p>“Peter Russet made another noise afore +Ginger could stop ’im, and then they both +stood up staring at Sam.</p> + +<p>“‘A lady asked me the time,’ ses Sam, +shutting his eyes so as ’e couldn’t see ’em, ‘and +while I was telling ’er one of ’er pals come +up and choked me, and two others helped +themselves out o’ my pockets.’</p> + +<p>“Ginger looked at Peter—just in time. +Then he looked at Sam again.</p> + +<p>“‘’Ow much was it?’ he ses.</p> + +<p>“‘Eleven pounds and my watch and chain,’ +ses Sam; ‘if it wasn’t for seven shillings they +didn’t find, in another pocket, I should be +starving. ’Ow long do you think a man could +live on seven shillings?’</p> + +<p>“‘Me or you?’ ses Ginger, considering.</p> + +<p>“‘Me,’ ses pore Sam.</p> + +<p>“‘Week or ten days—with care,’ ses Ginger.</p> + +<p>“Sam thanked ’im, but not very loud, and +arter saying ’e didn’t care wot become of ’im +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span>and he didn’t suppose ’is pals did neither, he +punched ’is piller as if it was somebody ’e +didn’t like and laid down and shut ’is eyes.</p> + +<p>“He was up fust next morning counting ’is +seven shillings over and over agin, and Peter +and Ginger purtending not to notice it. They +didn’t see ’im agin till night time ’cos, when +Peter spoke to Ginger about giving ’im his +eleven pounds back, Ginger said ’e ought to be +made to suffer a little for ’is foolishness fust, +to be a lesson to ’im.</p> + +<p>“‘We’re saving it up for ’im,’ he ses. +‘While we’ve got it he can’t be spending it.’</p> + +<p>“‘Or trusting people with it,’ ses Peter.</p> + +<p>“Both of ’em felt quite kind to Sam, thinking +’ow good they was going to be to ’im, but +Sam ’ardly spoke a word to ’em and was up +and out next morning a’most afore they ’ad +got their eyes open. Twice they came back to +their room that day to see whether he ’ad +turned up, and when night-time came and ’e +was still missing, Peter Russet said as ’ow he +was getting uneasy about ’im.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span></p> + +<p>“‘Wot’s ’e doing?’ he ses. ‘He ain’t got any +money to go to pubs with, and there’s nowhere +else for ’im to go.’</p> + +<p>“They sat on their beds smoking and drinking +some whisky they ’ad brought in with ’em, +and Ginger was just helping ’imself to ’is third +glass when ’e put the bottle down and sat +listening.</p> + +<p>“‘Somebody coming upstairs,’ he ses.</p> + +<p>“‘He’s a long time about it,’ ses Peter. ‘He +’as been sitting in a pub.’</p> + +<p>“Somebody was coming up the stairs so slow +it seemed as if ’e would never get to the top, +and the banisters was creaking as if they would +break. Then they ’eard a shuffling on the +landing, and as the door opened they both +jumped up and called out at the same time:</p> + +<p>“‘Lor’ lumme!’ ses Ginger. ‘’Ave you been +run over, Sam?’</p> + +<p>“Sam looked at ’im for a moment and then +’e gave a stagger and tumbled on to ’is bed.</p> + +<p>“‘Mr. Cooper!’ he ses, in a faint voice.</p> + +<p>“‘Wot about ’im?’ ses Ginger.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span></p> + +<p>“‘He done it,’ ses Sam, ‘’im and ’is pals. +I went round to the pub to see if I could find +’im, thinking ’e might ’ave been took ill the +other night, and this is wot I got. He said I’d +robbed <i>’im</i>. <i>Me!</i> He goes off with my money +and then ’arf kills me. Wot for? That’s wot +I want to know.’</p> + +<p>“‘It’s a mystery,’ ses Ginger, shaking his +’ead.</p> + +<p>“‘I thought you said you didn’t give ’im the +money,’ ses Peter.</p> + +<p>“Sam didn’t answer ’im, and arter drinking +a glass o’ whisky Ginger gave ’im he ’eld his +’ead in his ’ands and said ’e thought ’e was +dying. When they offered to undress ’im he +said ’e didn’t think it was worth while, but +they got ’is clo’es off arter a bit and put ’im +into bed.</p> + +<p>“‘Wot did ’e do it <i>for</i>?’ he ses, arter he had +’ad two more whiskies. ‘D’ye think ’e’s mad? +His ’ead was all bandaged up.’</p> + +<p>“Ginger shook his ’ead. ‘It’s a mystery,’ +he ses again.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span></p> + +<p>“He went acrost the room and came back +with something tied up in a handkerchief and +put it on Sam’s bed. Sam looked at it a +moment and then ’e picked it up and out +tumbled eleven pounds, a watch and chain, +and a imitation gold cigar-case.</p> + +<p>“‘He’s fainted,’ ses Peter Russet.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="Kitchen_Company"> + Kitchen Company + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">Practice</span> makes perfect, and when +Mrs. Brampton, from her seat by the +window, announced the approach of +the Captain, Mr. Leonard Scott kissed Miss +Brampton in the small hall and made his usual +dignified exit to the kitchen. To leave by +the side-entrance was the best way of avoiding +trouble with a man who was always looking +out for it. Mr. Scott bestowed a nod upon the +smiling young mistress of the kitchen, and +with his hand upon the back-door waited to +hear the Captain at the front.</p> + +<p>“One o’ these days,” began Clara, who +loved to dwell upon the gruesome, “he’ll +come——”</p> + +<p>She broke off and listened. “He’s coming,” +she said, in a thrilling whisper. “He’s coming +the back way.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span></p> + +<p>Mr. Scott started, hesitated, and was lost.</p> + +<p>“Fly!” exclaimed Clara, pointing by accident +to the ceiling.</p> + +<p>The young man scowled at her, and before +he had time to alter his expression found +himself gazing at the burly form and inflamed +visage of Captain Brampton.</p> + +<p>“Well?” barked the latter. “What are you +doing in my kitchen? Eh? What have you +got to say for yourself?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Scott coughed and tried to collect his +thoughts. In the front room Mrs. Brampton +and her daughter eyed each other in silent +consternation. Then, in response to a peremptory +bellow, Mrs. Brampton rose and +made a trembling passage to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>“What does this mean?” demanded the +Captain in grating accents.</p> + +<p>His wife stood looking helplessly from one +to the other, and, instead of answering the +question, passed it on.</p> + +<p>“What does this mean, Clara?” she +demanded.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span></p> + +<p>“Eh?” said that astonished maiden. “What +does what mean?”</p> + +<p>“This,” said the Captain sternly, with a +jerk of his head towards Mr. Scott. “Did you +invite him here?”</p> + +<p>Clara started—but in a lesser degree than +Mr. Scott—and looked down modestly at a +hole in the hearth-rug. Mrs. Brampton +and her daughter gazed at her in hushed +expectation.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t, not to say, invite him,” replied +Clara, “but I can’t help him coming here.”</p> + +<p>“<i>H’m!</i> Perhaps you didn’t try,” said the +Captain with unexpected mildness. “How +long have you known him?”</p> + +<p>“Some time, sir,” said Clara vaguely.</p> + +<p>“Does he want to marry you?”</p> + +<p>Clara looked at her mistress for guidance, +but the latter was engaged at the moment +in an eye-to-eye duel with the fermenting +Mr. Scott. Over the Captain’s face +stole an expression of great and unusual +benevolence.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span></p> + +<p>“Well, well,” he said slowly. “We’ve all +been young once. He’s not much to look at, +but he looks clean and respectable. When +do you think of getting married?”</p> + +<p>“That’s for him to say, sir,” said the modest +Clara.</p> + +<p>“Well, there’s no hurry,” said the Captain, +“no hurry. He can come round once a week +for you on your evening out, but no other time, +mind.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir,” said Clara, who was beginning +to enjoy herself. “It’s my evening +out to-night, sir. He was going to take me to +the pictures.”</p> + +<p>A stifled exclamation came from the direction +where Mr. Scott was standing, which the +Captain chose to interpret as an expression of +gratitude. With instructions to Clara to regale +her admirer with bread and cheese and +one glass of beer, he shepherded his wife and +daughter from the kitchen. Humming a light +air, Clara began to set the table.</p> + +<p>“What the devil did you want to say I was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span>going to take you to the pictures for?” demanded +the ungrateful Mr. Scott.</p> + +<p>“’Cos I wanted to go,” said his hostess +calmly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Scott regarded her coldly. “I will +walk with you as far as the corner of this +road,” he said with an air of finality.</p> + +<p>“We’ll go to the best seats and I’ll have +a box of chocolates,” said Clara. “Do you +like chocolates?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said the other sternly.</p> + +<p>“Praise be!” said the girl piously. “My +other young man——”</p> + +<p>Mr. Scott coughed violently.</p> + +<p>“All right,” said the girl, “don’t get excited. +He’s away on a job for a week or two, else I +wouldn’t dare to be seen with you. When the +cat’s away the mice will play,” she added.</p> + +<p>The young man eyed her in amazement. +This was a new Clara. His lips quivered and +his eyes watered. He took up his glass of beer +and nodded.</p> + +<p>“Right-o!” he agreed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span></p> + +<p>He smoked a cigarette while the girl went +upstairs to dress, and a little later, watched +by three pairs of eyes from the front window, +sailed up the street with her arm-in-arm.</p> + +<p>“She’s too good for him,” said the Captain, +with decision.</p> + +<p>“Much,” assented his daughter, with a +smile.</p> + +<p>“Tailor’s dummy!” soliloquised the Captain.</p> + +<p>“Cheap tailor, too,” murmured the acquiescent +Miss Brampton. “Did you notice how +baggy his trousers are at the knees?”</p> + +<p>The Captain shot a glance at her. Twenty +years’ experience of a wife whose only anxiety +was to please him was not the best preparation +for handling a daughter who, to say the least +of it, had other ambitions. He began to fear +that she had inherited more of his strength of +character—a quality for which some of +his friends found another name—than was +convenient.</p> + +<p>“He’s a softy,” he growled. “He ought to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span>have a year or two at sea. That might make +a man of him.”</p> + +<p>He got up and went into the garden, leaving +mother and daughter to discuss the possibilities +of a situation which had found them +somewhat unprepared.</p> + +<p>“It might have been worse,” said Mrs. +Brampton. “If your father had caught him +in here——”</p> + +<p>“He couldn’t eat him,” said her daughter +rebelliously.</p> + +<p>“There are worse things than being eaten,” +said Mrs. Brampton, with some feeling.</p> + +<p>Miss Brampton nodded. “Taking Clara to +the pictures, for instance,” she remarked. +“Poor Leonard!”</p> + +<p>Her mother sniffed. “I dare say he will +get over it,” she said dryly. “Unless Clara’s +young man gets to hear of it. From what she +has told me he is a very hot-tempered young +man—and very strong.”</p> + +<p>“Pity father didn’t find <i>him</i> in the kitchen,” +said the dutiful daughter.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span></p> + +<p>She sat down, and in sympathetic mood +tried to share the misery of the absent one at +the cinema. A vision of Clara’s hat, perilously +near Mr. Scott’s shoulder, mercifully eluded +her, but, the window being open to the summer +air, she was unable to help hearing the cheerful +babble of laughter that heralded their +return. It seemed to strike a wrong note; and +the couple of noisy kisses which Clara saw +fit to bestow upon the back of her hand for the +Captain’s benefit were registered on the wrong +target.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brampton obtained the explanation +from Clara next day, and accepted it without +prejudice. Her daughter declined to accept it +at all.</p> + +<p>“You quite understand that he must +not come to see you again?” she said +stiffly.</p> + +<p>“But he’s got to,” said the staring handmaiden. +“The Captain says so. And if he +plays fast-and-loose with me I’m to have him +up for breach of promise. Lively for me, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span>ain’t it? When I think of Bill and his temper +I get goose-flesh all over.”</p> + +<p>The ladies eyed each other in silent consternation.</p> + +<p>“Your father <i>knows</i>,” said the elder at last. +“He has done this on purpose.”</p> + +<p>“Set a trap for him,” said Clara, nodding. +“Looks like it. And I’m the little bit o’ cheese, +I suppose?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brampton stared at her.</p> + +<p>“Father forgets that I am nineteen,” said +her daughter. “Why shouldn’t I——?”</p> + +<p>“I was only fifteen when <i>I</i> started,” murmured +Clara, “and not big for my age +neither.”</p> + +<p>“That will do,” said Mrs. Brampton.</p> + +<p>“Yes’m,” said the girl. “Still——”</p> + +<p>“Still what?” demanded her mistress.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been dragged into it,” said Clara +mutinously. “Nobody asked me or troubled +about my feelings. I do the best I can, and +that’s all the thanks I get for it. Suppose +I had told the Captain it was Miss Edith he +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span>was after? Where would you have been +then?”</p> + +<p>“We won’t discuss it,” said Mrs. Brampton +with an air of feeble dignity.</p> + +<p>She made as stately an exit as the size of the +kitchen would allow, and, carefully closing +the door of the sitting-room, made a few remarks +on Clara’s character, and more on her +lack of it.</p> + +<p>“It’s no good blaming Clara,” said her +daughter. “It’s father’s doing. He wants +to make Leonard look like a fool first and scare +him away afterwards. He’ll tell all his friends +about it.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Hopkins, for one,” said Mrs. Brampton, +nodding sagely. “I wonder——”</p> + +<p>“I don’t,” said the girl, reddening.</p> + +<p>“Your father seems to have taken a great +fancy to him,” continued Mrs. Brampton. +“Now, does he come here to see your father, +or——”</p> + +<p>“Or,” said her daughter bitterly. “It’s +just like father. I suppose he will want to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span>choose my tooth-powder for me next. But +he won’t get any satisfaction out of me—<i>or</i> +Leonard. I’ll see to that. As for Mr. +Hopkins—<i>brrh!</i>”</p> + +<p>She beamed, however, on that innocent man +when her father brought him in next day to +see the garden, and when the wily Captain +went indoors for his pipe made no attempt to +follow him. It was a pipe that was notorious +for the discovery of new and unusual hiding-places, +and on this occasion made no attempt +to belie its reputation.</p> + +<p>Meantime, the delighted Mr. Hopkins, +under the skilful management of Miss Brampton, +walked with his head in the clouds and +his feet on various choice border plants.</p> + +<p>“Hadn’t you better walk on the path?” +inquired the girl, who had been monopolising +three-quarters of it. “It’s more comfortable.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Hopkins started. “Good heavens!” he +said in an alarmed voice, as he bent down to +render first aid to a stock with a broken neck. +“Did I do that?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span></p> + +<p>Miss Brampton nodded. “Those, too, I +think,” she replied, with a wave of her hand. +“Don’t you care for flowers?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Hopkins, who was fearfully endeavouring +to conceal the traces of his crime, made +no reply. When the Captain came out they +were both speechless, but he was, if anything, +the redder of the two.</p> + +<p>“These paths are very narrow, father,” +remarked the humane Edith.</p> + +<p>The Captain made a noise.</p> + +<p>“Afraid—crowding—Miss Edith,” panted +the offender.</p> + +<p>The Captain made another noise. In the +present company all the useful words he knew +were useless.</p> + +<p>“Did you find your pipe, father?” inquired +the persevering Miss Brampton.</p> + +<p>The Captain was understood to say “Yes.” +At the same time he favoured her with a +glance which would have made her mother +tremble. On Miss Brampton it had a bracing +effect.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span></p> + +<p>“Father’s always mislaying his pipe,” she +said, with a bright laugh. “I shouldn’t +trouble any more about those, if I were you, +Mr. Hopkins. You can’t do them any good, +and you are standing on an antirrhinum.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Hopkins removed his foot hastily, and +placing it carefully in the centre of the path +offered up another apology. It was received +with what the Captain fondly believed to be +a smile.</p> + +<p>“Accidents will happen,” he said hoarsely.</p> + +<p>“In the best-regulated families,” said Miss +Brampton, with a satisfied smile.</p> + +<p>She paid a touching tribute to the excellence +of the victims after the visitor had gone, and +sought for some time for an explanation of the +tragedy.</p> + +<p>“He must have been ‘wool-gathering,’” she +declared at length.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean by that?” demanded +her father.</p> + +<p>“Absent-minded,” said Edith. “He seemed +like a man walking on air, instead of some of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span>the best stocks in the neighbourhood. Even +Clara’s young man would have more sense +than that.”</p> + +<p>“Clara’s young man won’t go into my +garden,” said the Captain. “The kitchen is +the place for him.”</p> + +<p>He stalked out into the garden, and, digging +up hopeless cases with a trowel, sought to +revive the less badly injured with a water-can.</p> + +<p>It might have been a sign of a forgiving +nature, but was more likely due to an obstinate +one, that he invited Mr. Hopkins back to the +scene of his footwork a day or two later. +Missing plants had been replaced by a consignment +from the florists, and rolled paths +and raked flower-beds testified to the Captain’s +industry. Everything was “shipshape and +Bristol fashion” as the greatly relieved visitor +walked with Miss Brampton in the garden in +the cool of the evening. The Captain, after +satisfying himself that Mr. Hopkins was +walking almost as carefully as a performer on +the tight-rope, had disappeared indoors.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span></p> + +<p>The path was narrow, but even when Miss +Brampton sent electric thrills through his +being by leaning against him, Mr. Hopkins +kept to it. The air was soft and the scent of +the flowers delightful. Never before had his +conversation been so appreciated. The low-voiced +laughter of his companion was a tribute +to his wit as rare as it was welcome.</p> + +<p>“You ought to write plays,” she said +thoughtfully, as she planted her foot firmly +on a geranium.</p> + +<p>“You want influence to get them accepted,” +said Mr. Hopkins.</p> + +<p>“I should try, if I were you, though,” said +the girl, nearly missing another geranium.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hopkins purred. Miss Brampton, +with downcast eyes, trod down six flowers in +succession.</p> + +<p>“Dialogue would be your strong point,” +mused the girl, continuing her ravages. +“Crisp and sparkling.”</p> + +<p>She took the other side as they turned at +the end of the path, and in a hushed voice +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span>called his attention to some beautiful cloud +effects. Mr. Hopkins, with his head at an +acute angle, murmured his admiration.</p> + +<p>“An evening to remember,” he said, very +softly.</p> + +<p>He brought his gaze slowly to earth and +started convulsively.</p> + +<p>“Giddy?” inquired the girl, with much +solicitude.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hopkins shook his head and, speech +failing him, pointed with a trembling finger to +the prostrate victims of misdirected industry. +Miss Brampton stared in her turn.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Mr. Hopkins!” she said, in accusing +tones.</p> + +<p>“I—I haven’t been near them,” stammered +the unfortunate.</p> + +<p>“They must have done it themselves, then,” +said the girl calmly. “Perhaps they were not +strong enough to stand the breeze.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Hopkins breathed heavily. “I—I +really think——” he began.</p> + +<p>“Yes?” said Miss Brampton.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span></p> + +<p>“I don’t know what to think,” concluded the +other feebly.</p> + +<p>His companion gazed wistfully at the +wreckage.</p> + +<p>“Poor father!” she said softly. “He is so +fond of his garden. He seems to know every +flower, but, of course, he hasn’t had these long +enough to know them.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Hopkins groaned and cast a fearful +glance at the house.</p> + +<p>“It’s his one hobby,” continued the girl. +“I have heard him use worse language about +cats than anything else, I think. And the +doctor says excitement is so bad for him.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t understand it,” ventured Mr. +Hopkins, with an appealing glance.</p> + +<p>“I wonder whether father will?” said the +girl. “He is coming out, I think.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Hopkins looked around panic-stricken. +Then he pulled out his watch.</p> + +<p>“Good gracious!” he murmured. “I +must be going, I think. No idea so late. +Appointment.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span></p> + +<p>He moved hastily in the direction of the +side-gate, and hardly realising the geniality +of Miss Brampton’s hand-clasp, disappeared. +The girl stood watching until he had turned +the corner and then went into the house.</p> + +<p>“Where’s Hopkins!” inquired the Captain.</p> + +<p>“He has just gone.”</p> + +<p>“Gone!” repeated her father. “Why, I +asked him to stay to supper. Did you send +him off? Eh?”</p> + +<p>His daughter shook her head. “He went +off in a hurry,” she murmured. “I think he +had an idea that perhaps he had offended +you.”</p> + +<p>“Rubbish!” grunted the Captain, eyeing her +suspiciously. “What should he offend me +about?”</p> + +<p>“Knowing how fond you are of your +flowers——” began Miss Brampton.</p> + +<p>The Captain uttered a smothered cry and, +springing from his chair, dashed into the +garden. Cries that were anything but smothered, +and words that ought to have been, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span>brought his wife to her daughter’s side. +Together they watched the head of the house +as, with fists raised to heaven, he danced a +strange and frenzied dance down the path.</p> + +<p>“He’s wonderfully supple for his age,” said +the admiring daughter.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brampton shivered. “I don’t suppose +that poor young man will dare to show his face +here again,” she said slowly.</p> + +<p>“If he does, there will be an accident to +the rose trees,” said her daughter, compressing +her lips. “I’ve had all I can stand of Mr. +Hopkins.”</p> + +<p>“And then there’s Mr. Scott,” said her +mother plaintively. “Clara says that she +thinks her young man has heard something, +and if he should happen to meet them one +evening——”</p> + +<p>“It might be bad for the young man,” said +the girl calmly. “Leonard would have a better +nose if he didn’t box so much. Look at +father!”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brampton looked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span></p> + +<p>“He—he seems to be examining the foot-marks,” +she gasped.</p> + +<p>“Time I changed your sensible low-heeled +shoes for something more dressy,” said her +daughter, disappearing.</p> + +<p>She was back before the Captain re-entered +the house, and sitting cross-legged, displayed +a pair of sharp-toed, high-heeled shoes of +blameless aspect, which met his ardent gaze +with a polished stare. He turned his back at +last and stood gazing blankly out at his cherished +garden.</p> + +<p>It never occurred to him to accept defeat, +and his daughter was therefore more annoyed +than surprised to see Mr. Hopkins—a nervous, +chastened Mr. Hopkins—back again after a +few days. On this occasion, however, the +Captain lingered in the garden, and from a +deck-chair beneath the window watched his +faltering steps.</p> + +<p>Conscious of this scrutiny, the visitor +babbled incoherences to Miss Brampton, +until in self-defence she retreated to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span>the house on the plea of a thorn in +her foot.</p> + +<p>The sound of Mr. Scott’s voice in the kitchen +did not add to her comfort. A glance +from her window showed her that her father +had taken her place with the visitor and was +pointing out to him the merits of the rockery. +She stole downstairs and, opening the kitchen-door, +peeped in.</p> + +<p>“I thought you were going to the cinema,” +she said, addressing Mr. Scott coldly.</p> + +<p>“Can’t,” was the reply. “Clara’s Bill is +outside, and she’s afraid to come.”</p> + +<p>“He’s waiting for him,” said Clara breathlessly. +“There’ll be murder done—and I +shall be the cause of it.”</p> + +<p>“Cheer up,” said Mr. Scott. “He’ll only +have a week or two in a nice comfortable +hospital. You’ll be able to see him on Sunday +afternoons and take him grapes.”</p> + +<p>“I know who’ll want the grapes,” said Clara +miserably. “You don’t know his strength. I +don’t believe he knows it himself.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span></p> + +<p>“Where is he?” demanded Miss Brampton.</p> + +<p>“Outside the side-gate, miss,” replied Clara. +“Like a cat waiting for a mouse.”</p> + +<p>“A mouse!” ejaculated the startled Mr. +Scott. “Now look here, Clara——”</p> + +<p>“I’ll go and send him away,” said Miss +Brampton with decision.</p> + +<p>She slipped into the garden and, her father’s +back still being towards her, opened the side-gate +and looked out. A bullet-headed young +man, standing just outside, drew up sharply +at her appearance and stood scowling at +her.</p> + +<p>“Do you want to see Clara?” she inquired.</p> + +<p>“I’m waiting,” said Mr. Bill Jones, “waiting +for a toff.”</p> + +<p>Miss Brampton stood regarding him with a +puzzled air. Then she had an inspiration that +almost took her breath away.</p> + +<p>“Do you mean the gentleman who is in +the garden talking to father?” she inquired.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jones’s eyes glistened. He licked his +lips and stood breathing hard and short. Miss +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span>Brampton, with an encouraging smile, pushed +the door open.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jones needed no further invitation. +With head erect and eyes ablaze he entered +the garden and, catching sight of the unconscious +Mr. Hopkins, strode rapidly +towards him.</p> + +<p>“Here! What do you want?” demanded the +astonished Captain.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jones ignored him, and continuing his +progress, thrust his face into that of Mr. +Hopkins.</p> + +<p>“Take my gal away, will yer?” he shouted. +“Take ’er to the pictures, will yer? Take +that!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Hopkins took it and went down with +a cry of anguish. Through a mist of pain +he heard the voice of his assailant.</p> + +<p>“Get up! Get up, else I’ll jump on +yer.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Hopkins got up, and the appearance +of Mr. Jones was so terrible that he turned +and fled, with the other in hot pursuit.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span></p> + +<p>“Stop!” yelled the choking Captain. “Mind +the flowers! Mind the fl——”</p> + +<p>Mr. Hopkins paid no heed; neither, to do +him justice, did Mr. Jones. Firmly convinced +that his life was in danger, the former performed +miracles of agility, while his opponent +pounded doggedly behind. A bad third, owing +to his keeping to the path, the Captain +followed raving in the rear.</p> + +<p>Broken plants lay in the wake of Mr. Hopkins; +churned-up earth marked the progress +of Mr. Jones as he endeavoured to head him +off. And at this juncture Mr. Scott appeared +from the kitchen, shedding his coat.</p> + +<p>“What the devil do you think you’re +doing?” he shouted.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jones pulled up suddenly and favoured +him with a menacing glare.</p> + +<p>“Look at those flowers,” cried Mr. Scott +severely. “You chump-headed, mutton-headed +son of a gun!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Jones stood irresolute. He looked +longingly at Mr. Hopkins taking cover behind +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span>the Captain; then with a loud roar he threw +himself upon this new arrival.</p> + +<p>Mr. Scott side-stepped neatly and smote +him heavily on the chin. Mr. Jones, turning +in amazement, took three more and, being by +this time acclimatised, settled down to a +steady mill.</p> + +<p>“You’d better go,” said the Captain harshly, +to Mr. Hopkins. “This isn’t a sight for you.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span></p> + +<p>Mr. Hopkins went, somewhat reluctantly. +He was a man of peace, but the sight of Mr. +Jones’s damages seemed in some way to afford +him an odd feeling of satisfaction. The Captain +stayed to see fair play—also the only fight +with fists he had seen since he left the sea. It +was with almost a sigh that he went at length +to help Mr. Scott assist his adversary to his +feet. The dazed Mr. Jones, with Clara’s arm +about his waist, was led indoors and his head +placed under the scullery tap. The cooling +sounds of running water and the heated comments +of Mr. Jones alone broke the silence.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp80" id="i_p137" style="max-width: 28em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_p137.png" alt=""> + <figcaption> + THE CAPTAIN STAYED TO SEE FAIR PLAY. + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>“Well, that’s over,” said Mr. Scott, tenderly +dabbing his face with his handkerchief, as +Miss Brampton came out. “I’m afraid Clara +has jilted me, sir.”</p> + +<p>The Captain grunted and eyed him +curiously.</p> + +<p>“I was going to take her to the cinema, +now I suppose I shall have to go alone. +Unless——”</p> + +<p>“Well?” barked the Captain, waiting.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span></p> + +<p>“Unless Miss Brampton comes with me.”</p> + +<p>The Captain stood up and faced him, +choking.</p> + +<p>“Cinema!” he roared. “Cinema! If you +want to do something to pass the evening, you +can help her help me help make the garden +tidy.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="The_Model"> + The Model + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">It was</span> getting too dark to work, and the +artist, a cigarette between his lips, was +sitting restfully at the open window, lazily +scanning through his half-closed lids the +languid life of the old Italian city below. +As the objects in his studio retired farther and +farther into the shadows, he arose, and taking +his hat from a peg, passed slowly down the +long staircase into the street. The air, which +had been almost stifling during the day was +now freshening, and he passed from street to +street with the aimless enjoyment of the man +to whom the mere exercise of his cramped +limbs is a luxury.</p> + +<p>Standing idly at a lighted corner preparatory +to turning back, his gaze fell upon a +middle-aged woman of poor appearance who +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span>was passing. He started violently, and in an +undecided fashion stood gazing after her retreating +figure until it disappeared down a +small by-street. Then, on a sudden impulse, +he threw away his cigarette and started in pursuit.</p> + +<p>At first he gained but little on her, and once +or twice nearly lost her in the rapidly increasing +darkness, but in the end his youth and +strength told, and the woman, who had been +conscious for some time that her steps were +dogged, slackened her pace and walked with +her hand pressed to her side, breathing distressfully. +In the centre of the old stone +bridge which leads from the narrow streets of +the town to the open country beyond, he overtook +her.</p> + +<p>“Pardon, signora,” he said softly.</p> + +<p>The woman halted, her hand on the low +stone parapet, and confronted him.</p> + +<p>“You walk fast,” he continued, smiling.</p> + +<p>She murmured an indistinct something, and +made as though to go.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span></p> + +<p>“No, I have followed you some distance,” +said the artist, “I can’t afford to lose you. +Will you let me see your face? I have a +reason for the request.”</p> + +<p>With a startled gesture, and not without +looking right and left as though for assistance, +should it be needed, she threw her head back, +her pale features showing clearly in the light +of an adjoining lamp.</p> + +<p>“Beautiful!” said the artist joyfully, +“beautiful!”</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp80" id="i_p143" style="max-width: 28em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_p143.png" alt=""> + <figcaption> + “BEAUTIFUL,” SAID THE ARTIST JOYFULLY, “BEAUTIFUL!” + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>“Signor,” said the woman with dignity, conscious +of forty years and sundry wrinkles, “you +mock me.”</p> + +<p>“By no means,” he said anxiously; “you +have the face I have sought for years. You +will sit for me, will you not?”</p> + +<p>“The signor is an artist then,” said the +woman, breathing more freely.</p> + +<p>He nodded, and for the first time perceived +that he had frightened her. “I was too +abrupt,” he said regretfully. “I saw your face +and forgot all else.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span></p> + +<p>The woman smiled faintly, a slight glow +tinged her face and her eyes brightened. “I +shall be pleased to sit, if I am any use.”</p> + +<p>“Can you come to-morrow?” asked the +enthusiast.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“At eleven then, to this address. You will +not fail me.”</p> + +<p>Smiling at his earnestness, she gave the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span>desired assurance, and with a soft good-night +left him, and passed swiftly over the bridge +into the darkness beyond.</p> + +<p>For a moment the artist glanced after her as +though desirous of obtaining further pledges +of fidelity, and then abandoning the idea, +seated himself on the parapet, and, lighting +another cigarette, fell into a smoker’s reverie. +The river went by with a soft swish against +the piles of the old bridge, the air was cool +and the ghostly outlines of the old buildings +on either bank, indistinct in the darkness, appeared +to be nodding in sleep. All these +drowsy influences combined were beginning +to have a soporific effect upon the smoker, the +buildings nodded more violently than ever, +the river murmured more sweetly.</p> + +<p>“He who sleeps on the parapet awakes in +the stream,” said a voice at his elbow in +feigned solemnity.</p> + +<p>“Ah! Rossa,” said the artist, slipping to his +feet, and smiling as he recognised the speaker, +“I was just wishing for company home. I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span>have news for you; at last I have been successful +in my search, and my picture can be +finished.”</p> + +<p>“It is time,” remarked the other as he +walked by his side; “and where is she who +has succeeded in satisfying your exacting +fancy?”</p> + +<p>“I parted from her on the bridge,” replied +his friend. “Such a face, such an expression, +the perfect type of bereaved maternity.”</p> + +<p>“Charming!” said Rossa drily. “It must +have been a pleasant task, the acquiring of +that self-same expression.”</p> + +<p>The artist, somewhat nettled at his tone, +made no reply, and they traversed the narrow +ill-lighted streets almost in silence until they +reached his dwelling. Then with a hearty +handshake Rossa took his leave, and the other +climbed the steep stairs which led to his bed +to lie awake half the night, thinking of his +great work and the face of his model.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span></p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>The woman was tired and hot when she +reached his studio, for the sun was nearly at +its height, and its heat, imprisoned in the +narrow street, was stifling to those wayfarers +who could not move at leisure and take advantage +of such shade as offered. She greeted +the artist timidly, and gazed, not without +curiosity, at the littered floor and the sketches +upon the walls.</p> + +<p>“That is what I want you for,” said the +artist, indicating with a nod a large unfinished +canvas which stood upon an easel in the full +light of the window.</p> + +<p>His visitor crossed over, and stood looking +at the roughly outlined figure of a woman +upon her knees, bending over the calm, awful +face of the dead Christ. She stood for some +time in silence, and then as she understood +what her part was to be, turned to the artist +to receive his instructions.</p> + +<p>And never had man a more devoted model.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span></p> + +<p>True to time, cheerful and willing, she +appeared day by day, and it required but little +discernment on the part of the artist to see +that her heart was in the work. Quiet and undemonstrative +in manner, it was yet easy to see +her devout joy at the fact that her face should +have been chosen to represent that of the +Virgin. Slowly but surely the work grew in +strength and clearness, bit by bit the shadowy +figure of the woman took life, and a weary +earth-worn face now bent over the crucified +Saviour.</p> + +<p>It was while sitting at the window one +morning, waiting for the appearance of his +model, that the artist was surprised by a visit +from his friend Rossa.</p> + +<p>“Are you amiable to visitors this morning?” +inquired the latter.</p> + +<p>“It depends upon their criticisms,” replied +the artist smiling.</p> + +<p>“I feel at peace with all mankind at present,” +said Rossa.</p> + +<p>“In that case you are welcome,” said the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span>other, “but you are the only man I allow to +see it in its unfinished state.”</p> + +<p>“Always hungry for my suggestions,” murmured +Rossa complacently, as he advanced to +the easel.</p> + +<p>“Well?” asked the artist impatiently, after +allowing plenty of time for his friend’s +praises.</p> + +<p>“It is the best you have done, as good as +you will ever do,” said Rossa with gratifying +energy. “Ah! when will you cease wasting +your strength on these old-world superstitions, +and use your brush on nobler themes?”</p> + +<p>“There is none nobler,” said the other +gravely.</p> + +<p>Rossa shrugged his shoulders and smiled +scornfully. “Bah! you spend your strength +in painting advertisements for the priests, and +what do the smug-faced black-gowns do for +you in return? Give you their blessing, or +recommend you to wealthy patrons? Are +there no noble deeds of to-day to bring the +blood to a man’s cheek and the water to his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span>eyes, that you must go back to that hackneyed +theme of eighteen centuries ago?”</p> + +<p>“You are speaking too freely,” said the +artist sternly.</p> + +<p>“Freely!” repeated Rossa. “You paint pictures +to foster and encourage ideas which are +against all reason, and one may not even speak +of it. And the materials, bah! Do you ask +for certificates of character from the women +you paint as Madonnas, or do you take the first +that suits?”</p> + +<p>“To tell the truth, I have never thought of +it,” said the other, “but in this case the +woman’s face is her best certificate.”</p> + +<p>“It certainly supported her for many +years,” said Rossa drily.</p> + +<p>“What, do you know her? She told me +she had never sat before,” said the artist in +surprise.</p> + +<p>“Years ago I knew her well,” said his +friend, “but not as a model. It was in Naples. +She had a large circle of acquaintances, and +was commonly known as ‘The Doll.’ Even to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span>an atheist there seems to be an incongruity +somewhere in painting her in this character.”</p> + +<p>“Is this a jest?” asked the artist, struggling +between amazement and anger.</p> + +<p>“Ask her,” said Rossa quietly. “Poor devil; +I’m sorry I spoke though. She certainly has +got a sad face, and I suppose it doesn’t matter +to you how she got it.”</p> + +<p>The artist shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Come,” said the repentant Rossa, “don’t +spoil your picture and rake up this poor +thing’s past for nothing; perhaps I am mistaken.”</p> + +<p>His friend smiled faintly, and bidding his +visitor “good-bye” sat himself down in the +window-seat in a brown study. A devout man, +his heart was troubled. Art and religion +strove within him for the mastery. He sat in +perplexity until a light tap at the door announced +the arrival of the model.</p> + +<p>“It is hot, signor,” said she, smiling—“scarce +a breath of air in the streets, but it +is cool here.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span></p> + +<p>True to the minute, interested in his work, +she had toiled through the heat. He looked +at her coarse, work-stained hands and gentle +face, and faltered.</p> + +<p>“I told you that the picture is intended for +a gift to the cathedral, did I not?” he inquired +after a pause.</p> + +<p>“Surely, signor.” She smiled again. +Already she saw her face and that other looking +down from the cathedral wall on to the +hushed crowd beneath.</p> + +<p>“I chose your face,” continued the artist, +“because it seemed to me to contain all that +I required for my subject; but there is one +little matter of which I should have spoken +before. The face that I have chosen for the +Holy Mother, which is to remind the people +of her divine goodness and great sorrow, must +be that of a good woman. I dare not portray +any other.”</p> + +<p>There was no smile on the woman’s lips +now, and in her face, pale one moment +and flushed with shame the next, he +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span>saw that she guessed the extent of his +knowledge.</p> + +<p>“I did not think it mattered,” she said at +length in a low voice. “I never thought of +it. There—there were two Marys, signor, +and He loved both.”</p> + +<p>She looked at him humbly, with blurred +eyes, but he had averted his face. He raised +it at length at the sound of a door closing, +and found that he was alone.</p> + +<p>For a long time he sat motionless. At last, +with the air of a man who has an unpleasant +task before him, he arose and looked long and +close at the nearly finished picture. Then he +took it from the easel, and placing it on the +floor with its face to the wall, he too went out.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>Since the woman left the studio a year had +passed. The neglected canvas still stood on +the floor, its place on the easel being filled by +a picture of “The Draught of Fishes.” The +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span>artist, disappointed in his favourite work, had +done little that was worthy since, though he +was as determined as ever not to complete it. +Of the woman he had seen nothing, and he +had abandoned as hopeless the task of finding +a substitute.</p> + +<p>He was sitting listlessly before his easel, +brush in hand, when he was interrupted by a +gentle tap at the door. It opened, and a priest—an +old man with white hair and brown, rugged +face—entered and stood on the threshold.</p> + +<p>“The Signor Paoli?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>The artist rose and bowed.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid I intrude,” said the old man. +“You are busy, I see. I desired to see your +pictures. Perhaps another time——”</p> + +<p>“I am not busy,” said the artist, throwing +down his brush. “There are but few here. I +wish there were more.”</p> + +<p>He closed the door, and stood by the old +man’s side as he inspected the studies on the +walls and such few completed works as were +left in the studio. He paused at length before +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span>the easel, and after inspecting the canvas there, +turned and pointed with his stick at the one +which leaned against the wall.</p> + +<p>“May I see it?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“It is not finished,” said the artist. He +hesitated a moment, and then removing the +canvas from the easel, crossed the room, and +returning with the other, silently placed it +before his visitor.</p> + +<p>An exclamation of delight burst from the +old priest’s lips as he leaned on his stick and +gazed on it.</p> + +<p>“A noble work,” he murmured at length, +without removing his eyes. “A noble work. +When will you finish it?”</p> + +<p>“It is not to be finished,” said the artist. +“I discovered by accident that the woman who +sat to me had led an infamous life; that the +lines which I thought were caused by bereavement +owed their birth to sin; that the woman +who I thought mourned her dead children +mourned instead her dead innocence.”</p> + +<p>“She will sin no more,” said the priest +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span>gently. “Nay, I hope and believe she will +mourn no more. She died last night.”</p> + +<p>“Last night,” said the startled artist. “You +know of the affair, then—she told you?”</p> + +<p>“I have known her for years,” said the old +man; “known her and loved her. She came +to this city, and left her wickedness like a +soiled garment behind her. Her father +cursed her, and her mother bewailed the hour +she was born; brothers and sisters forgot that +she had ever been. Years ago, weary of sin, +she came here, and maintained herself by hard +and ill-paid toil.”</p> + +<p>“Her hands said so,” muttered the artist.</p> + +<p>“For a long time,” continued the priest +without noticing the interruption, “she lived +alone, without the love or sympathy of a single +soul; and lived a good life. But one day she +saw in the streets a blind, weary old man, +hustled by boys. Him she took home and +nursed and fed. He told her that he had lost +wife and children, wealth and sight, and had +no man left to call him friend; and yet, for +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span>fear that he should not accept her bounty, +she never told him that he had one child left. +So that he might be fed she worked late into +the night and rose with the dawn, always +haunted by the fear—for her early life had +left in her the seeds of death—that he might +outlive her and become destitute.”</p> + +<p>He paused and looked at the artist.</p> + +<p>“So it went on, and only I knew the story. +Last night she lay dying, and the old man on +his knees by her bedside kissed her hand and +said that she was to him as a beloved daughter, +and prayed to God for sight that he might behold +her ere she died.”</p> + +<p>“It must have been a painful moment +when she made herself known,” said the +artist.</p> + +<p>“It might have been,” answered the priest; +“who knows? But she died with her poor lips +sealed, though I think it was almost more +than she could bear. I have seen many sad +sights, may God in His mercy keep me from +such another.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span></p> + +<p>“Why not have told him, then?” inquired +the artist after a long pause.</p> + +<p>“There was a reason,” said the old man; +“she had scraped together a small sum for +her father’s use when she should no longer be +able to work for him. It was possible, at least +she thought so, that he might refuse it if he +knew the donor.”</p> + +<p>The air in the room was close, and the artist +opened the window. He came back to the +canvas and sat for some time slowly regarding +it. More slowly still he filled his brush with +colour and leaned forward. Then checking +himself suddenly, he looked up at the priest.</p> + +<p>The priest smiled.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="Artful_Cards"> + Artful Cards + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">“Gambling</span> I don’t ’old with,” said +the night-watchman, pursing his +lips. “There’s gamblers and gamblers. +There’s people like myself as does it +now and then out of good-nature to oblige, +and there’s people like that squint-eyed, +ginger-whiskered mate on the <i>Queen Mary</i>. +If he ’ad spent as much time learning good +manners as he ’as learning the three-card +trick, it would ha’ been better for both of us. +Especially me.</p> + +<p>“He ain’t the only one. I remember teaching +draughts to a man I met one evening. He +was a born fool to look at, and ’e looked just +the same when ’e bid me ‘Good night’ with +seven-and-six o’ mine in ’is pocket. I ’eard +arterwards that he could do anything with +draughts except make ’em speak.</p> + +<p>“Most sailormen like a bit of a flutter. One +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span>chap I knew used to spend all his time ashore +backing ’orses. When ’e lost, ’e lost, and when +he won the bookie used to get lost. And the +only time he did get his winnings he got fourteen +days for the way ’e spent ’em.</p> + +<p>“I remember one time when old Sam Small +got a perfeck craze for playing cards. His +idea was to make some money for ’is old age, +and, instead of going out and enjoying ’imself +with Ginger Dick and Peter Russet, he sat all +day in the bedroom being taught by a young +professional sharper ’e met in the Three Widders. +He even learnt ’ow to do the three-card +trick—arter a fashion—and came round +to show me one evening. We played for +ha’pennies at fust, and I lost seven right off. +Then we played for bobs, and it seemed as if +I couldn’t lose. I never see anybody so puzzled +as Sam was, and then ’e turned round +and said he’d been doing it all wrong, and +asked for ’is money back. I ’ad to be firm with +’im—for his own sake.</p> + +<p>“A man never knows ’is best friends. If +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span>he’d kept on playing cards with me it would +ha’ been better for both of us; instead o’ that, +he preferred to let strangers win ’is money. +He used to take ’em to his bedroom, and one +night Ginger couldn’t get to bed because three +or four of ’em had ’ad it for a card-table and +spilt a can of beer in it.</p> + +<p>“He could have ’ad two beds next night, +’cos to their surprise Sam didn’t come ’ome. +He was still missing when they went out to +brekfuss next morning, and by the time arternoon +came Ginger began to feel uneasy about +’im.</p> + +<p>“‘Mark my words,’ he ses to Peter Russet, +‘he’s been and gorn and got into some trouble.’</p> + +<p>“‘Any fool could see that,’ ses Peter. +‘’Ow much money ’ad he got on ’im? +Besides the eight quid you are minding +for ’im?’</p> + +<p>“Ginger shook his ’ead. ‘It’s my belief he’s +been made away with,’ he ses, jingling the +money in his trowsis-pocket. ‘It all comes of +’im thinking he can play cards.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span></p> + +<p>“‘P’r’aps I’d better mind ’arf of the money, +in case you get robbed,’ ses Peter.</p> + +<p>“Ginger didn’t hear ’im. He was too busy +thinking about pore Sam. By the time twelve +o’clock came, and no Sam, they felt certain +that something had ’appened to ’im, and +Ginger kept Peter awake ’arf the night talking +to ’im about the ’appy times the three of +them had ’ad together.</p> + +<p>“‘I suppose we must go out and try and +eat something,’ he ses next morning, shaking +his ’ead.</p> + +<p>“‘I s’pose so,’ ses Peter, very sorrowful; ‘but +it’s wasting good money.’</p> + +<p>“They went downstairs very slow, and +opened the door just as Sam’s friend wot +taught ’im ’ow to play cards knocked on it. +Sharp-faced young chap ’e was, with ’is eyes +’arf-closed and a fag stuck in the corner of +’is mouth.</p> + +<p>“‘’Ullo, Ginger,’ he ses, nodding.</p> + +<p>“‘Wot do you want?’ ses Ginger, sniffing at +’im.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span></p> + +<p>“‘I’ve got a letter for you,’ he ses.</p> + +<p>“Ginger held out ’is ’and for it and, arter +speaking sharp to Peter Russet about good +manners, stood reading it as though he +couldn’t believe ’is eyesight.</p> + +<p>“‘It’s from Sam,’ he ses, at last. ‘He’s lost +all ’is money at cards, as I knew ’e would; +and ’e wants me to send ’im five quid.’</p> + +<p>“‘Wot ’e owes,’ ses the young chap.</p> + +<p>“‘He can go on owing it, then,’ ses Ginger, +very firm. ‘If ’e wants ’is five quid let ’im +come and fetch it.’</p> + +<p>“‘He can’t,’ ses the young chap.</p> + +<p>“‘Can’t? Why not?’ ses Ginger, turning on +’im.</p> + +<p>“‘He’s lost other things besides money,’ ses +the chap. ‘He played the last two hands in +’is shirt and cap, and ’e can’t come ’ome in +<i>them</i>. ’Ow would you like it yourself? Besides, +think of the cold!’</p> + +<p>“‘Shirt and cap?’ ses Ginger, staring at +’im.</p> + +<p>“‘He made ’imself a skirt out of tater-sack +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span>this morning,’ ses the young chap. ‘It’s a tight +fit—still, it’s better than nothing.’</p> + +<p>“‘All right,’ ses Ginger, arter a few words +on the quiet with Peter Russet, ‘we’ll come +with you and see wot can be done. Where is +he?’</p> + +<p>“‘Find out,’ ses the chap. ‘Why don’t you +give me the money same as your pal tells you +to? Wot are you wasting time like this for? +It’s ’is money. He ’asn’t ’ad nothing to eat +since yesterday arternoon. D’you want ’im to +starve?’</p> + +<p>“Ginger led Peter away again.</p> + +<p>“‘We’ll lay low and foller ’im ’ome,’ he +ses, in a whisper.</p> + +<p>“‘Wot about brekfuss?’ ses Peter. ‘I want +mine something cruel.’</p> + +<p>“‘Plenty o’ time,’ ses Ginger. ‘Think o’ +pore Sam; nothing to eat since yesterday arternoon.’</p> + +<p>“He turned back to the young man, wot was +doing a double-shuffle on the pavement and +looking up at the chimbley-pots.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span></p> + +<p>“‘Why don’t you tell us where ’e is?’ he +ses, in a sharp voice.</p> + +<p>“‘Fancy,’ ses the chap, lighting another fag.</p> + +<p>“‘You won’t get no five pounds out o’ me,’ +ses Ginger, ‘Come along, Peter; we’ll go +back indoors and wait for Sam to come ’ome. +You go and tell ’im wot I said,’ he ses, turning +to the chap.</p> + +<p>“‘Right-o,’ ses the young feller, turning +away. ‘So long!’</p> + +<p>“They stood peeping out of the doorway +till he ’ad turned the corner, and then they set +off arter ’im. It was easy work in a way, ’cos +he never looked behind ’im; but ’e seemed +to be fonder o’ walking than wot they was, +and besides, as Peter said, no doubt he had +’ad a good brekfuss afore ’e started.</p> + +<p>“‘P’r’aps he ain’t going ’ome,’ ses Ginger, +looking puzzled. ‘This is the third time he +’as been in the Minories.’</p> + +<p>“They followed ’im into Tower Street—it +was on’y the second time they ’ad been there—and +then to their thankfulness he turned into +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span>a pub. They went in too—into another bar—and +Ginger ’ad just ordered two pints in a +whisper, and paid for ’em, when the chap +finished his beer and walked out. Pore Ginger +didn’t even ’ave time to taste ’is, and the one +mouthful Peter ’ad time to take went the +wrong way. It was a big mouthful, and for +a couple o’ minutes he thought it was ’is last. +Then he got ’is breath back, and, arter asking +the landlord whether he thought ’e was +beating carpets, went out to look for +Ginger. He caught ’im up arter a time, +and they went on walking till they felt ready +to drop.</p> + +<p>“‘I believe ’e knows we are follering ’im,’ +ses Peter.</p> + +<p>“They went on for another ’arf hour, and +then to Peter’s joy they saw the chap, arter +standing a long time looking at the things in +a cook-shop winder, go inside.</p> + +<p>“‘He’s going to ’ave his dinner,’ he ses, ‘and +while he’s ’aving it we’ll go and ’ave some +bread and cheese and beer.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span></p> + +<p>“‘And suppose he slips out while we’re +away?’ ses Ginger.</p> + +<p>“‘Well, we’ll go one at a time,’ ses Peter.</p> + +<p>“‘No, we won’t,’ ses Ginger. ‘I ain’t going +to lose ’im arter all this trouble, and when we +<i>do</i> find out where ’e lives I might want your +help.’</p> + +<p>“They stood outside waiting for over a +hour, and then the young feller came out wiping +his mouth on the back of his ’and. He stood +for a moment looking up and down the street +till ’is eyes fell on Ginger, wot was trying to +get behind Peter, and Peter wot was trying +to get behind Ginger.</p> + +<p>“‘’Ullo,’ he ses, coming up. ‘Fancy dropping +acrost you agin like this! ’Ave you been +’aving a little walk to stretch your legs?’</p> + +<p>“‘Yes; and we ain’t finished yet,’ ses Ginger +very fierce.</p> + +<p>“‘I’ll come with you, if you like,’ ses the +chap. ‘I ain’t proud.’</p> + +<p>“‘When we want your company we’ll ask +you for it,’ ses Peter.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span></p> + +<p>“‘Don’t get cross,’ ses the young feller, pretending +to shiver. ‘’Cos if you do I might get +frightened and <i>run</i>. Last time I was frightened +by a ugly face I run three miles without +stopping.’</p> + +<p>“He lit a fag and stood there with ’is eyes +’arf closed, blowing smoke through ’is nose. +Peter and Ginger stood there, waiting while +’e smoked two of ’em, and then waited outside +a tobacco-shop while ’e went in to buy another +packet. He got larky arter coming out, and +when ’e tried to strike a match on Ginger’s +trowsis people ’ad to step off the pavement +’cos Ginger was using it all.</p> + +<p>“He moved off with Peter as he saw a +policeman coming along, and then to their +surprise they found that the young feller was +following <i>them</i>. It upset their ideas +altogether, and all of a sudden Ginger stopped +and turned on ’im.</p> + +<p>“‘Why don’t you go ’ome?’ he ses.</p> + +<p>“‘Wot’s the good without the money?’ ses +the chap. ‘Wot’s the good of going back and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span>telling a starving old man in a tater-sack that +his pals won’t ’elp ’im?’</p> + +<p>“‘Why can’t we take it to ’im?’ ses Peter.</p> + +<p>“‘He wouldn’t like it,’ ses the chap. ‘He +said so. Besides, when you got there you +might try and get ’im out without paying.’</p> + +<p>“‘Well, we’ll give you the money now, and +then come with you,’ ses Ginger.</p> + +<p>“‘Why couldn’t you say so afore?’ ses the +other. ‘’Ere we’ve been wasting the whole +morning for nothing.’</p> + +<p>“They all went into a pub and arter Ginger +and Peter ’ad ’ad a pint or two, and a crust +o’ bread and cheese, Ginger handed over the +money and they all went out together, with +the young man in the middle. Ginger’s +opinion of ’im went up as they walked along, +and, when he led ’em into another pub a little +further on, and asked ’em wot they would ’ave, +he got to feel quite a liking for ’im.</p> + +<p>“They ’ad a pint each, and, while Peter +was resting ’arf-way through his, the young +man thought ’e saw a spider drop into it. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span>Ginger ’elped Peter to look for it, but they +couldn’t find it, and arter that they wasted a +lot of time looking for the young man, but +they couldn’t find ’im neither.</p> + +<p>“‘If you’d kept your eye on ’im instead o’ +fishing round in my beer with your dirty +finger, it ’ud ha’ been better,’ ses Peter.</p> + +<p>“They walked ’ome, quarrelling all the way, +and then they sat indoors all the evening waiting +for Sam to turn up so as they could tell +’im wot they thought of ’im.</p> + +<p>“They sat there till eleven o’clock, and then +they went to bed wondering wot had ’appened +to ’im; and when they got up next morning +Ginger said he ’ad a feeling that they should +never see ’im again.</p> + +<p>“‘He’s gorn where we’ve all got to go,’ he +ses, shaking his ’ead.</p> + +<p>“‘Unless we join the Salvation Army,’ ses +Peter. ‘There’s plenty o’ time afore we get +to his age.’</p> + +<p>“‘He’s been made away with, that’s my +opinion,’ ses Ginger. ‘We shall never see ’im +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span>agin, any more than we shall see that +monkey-faced chap that gave us the slip +yesterday.’</p> + +<p>“They went downstairs to go out and get +some brekfuss, and the very fust thing they saw +was the young feller, leaning up agin the wall, +smoking a fag.</p> + +<p>“‘’Ullo!’ he ses. ‘Did you find the spider?’</p> + +<p>“Ginger couldn’t answer ’im for a minute. +He stood there staring at him as if he was a +ghost.</p> + +<p>“‘Wot did you run off for?’ he ses, at last, +growling at ’im.</p> + +<p>“‘Me?’ ses the other. ‘I didn’t run off. +But I thought that if pore old Sam ’ad to wait +till you found that spider he’d never get ’is +money.’</p> + +<p>“‘Is he alive?’ ses Peter.</p> + +<p>“‘<i>Alive?</i>’ ses the young feller. ‘I on’y ’ope +I shall be ’arf as lively at ’is age as wot he is. +I’ve got another letter for you.’</p> + +<p>“He fished it out of ’is pocket and handed +it to Ginger, and then stood sucking his teeth +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span>and looking at the winder opposite while +Ginger read it.</p> + +<p>“It was a longer letter than the other. One +thing was Sam called ’imself a silly fool two +or three times over ’cos he ’ad gambled away +the five pounds. He wanted Ginger to send +’im the other three, and said as ’ow he had ’ad +awful bad luck, and never wanted to see a card +agin as long as ’e lived. He told Ginger to +give the other three pounds to ’is friend Sid, +wot took the five pounds, and said if they followed +’im again he would never forgive ’im.</p> + +<p>“‘Fair old cough-drop, ain’t he?’ ses the +young feller.</p> + +<p>“‘He’s fell into bad ’ands,’ ses Ginger, glaring +at ’im.</p> + +<p>“‘That’s right,’ ses Sid, ‘and we’ve got to +get ’im out. You find the ready, and I’ll do +the rest.’</p> + +<p>“Ginger read the letter agin, arter Peter ’ad +done with it, and then ’e told the chap to wait +while he went indoors for the money. Wot ’e +really went indoors for was to tell the land-lady’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span>gal, a smart little kid of eleven, as ’ad +two bilious attacks a week reg’lar to stay at +’ome and ’elp ’er mother, to foller Mr. Sid +’ome.</p> + +<p>“‘Here’s the three quid,’ ’e ses, coming out. +‘Take it and go.’</p> + +<p>“‘And let’s ’ope he won’t lose that,’ ses Sid. +‘Are you coming to see me as far as the—I +mean, as far as you can?’</p> + +<p>“‘I am not,’ ses Ginger.</p> + +<p>“‘Ah, well, I don’t blame you,’ ses Sid. +‘It’s a waste of your time and mine too, ain’t +it? The last chap that tried to foller me ’ome +seemed to think I lived in the canal. I never +see a chap make ’imself so wet.’</p> + +<p>“He gave Peter a playful little tap in the +stummick, and, arter asking Ginger for a lock +of ’is ’air to frighten the gals with, went off +whistling. And he had ’ardly turned the +corner afore the little gal was arter ’im.</p> + +<p>“By the time Peter and Ginger was back +from their brekfuss she was ’ome agin, ’aving +follered the young man to his ’ouse, and seen +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span>’im go inside. He didn’t seem to ’ave any idea +that ’e was being follered; and Ginger was +so pleased with ’imself and ’is cleverness that +Peter ’ad to remind ’im of all sorts of things +he didn’t want to be reminded of.</p> + +<p>“They waited in for some time to see if +Sam came ’ome, but there was no sign of ’im, +and Ginger began to wonder whether he ’ad +lost the three quid as well as the five.</p> + +<p>“‘We’ll give ’im till eight o’clock,’ he ses. +‘And if he ain’t ’ome by then we’ll go round +and fetch ’im.’</p> + +<p>“‘It’s my belief they won’t let ’im go,’ ses +Peter.</p> + +<p>“‘Or p’r’aps he’s lost ’is trowsis agin,’ ses +Ginger. ‘We’ll take his other pair with us +in case. And we’ll get one or two to come +with us to see fair play.’</p> + +<p>“They picked up a couple o’ firemen they +knew, that arternoon. Stiff-built chaps they +was, and always ready for a bit of trouble, +’aving both ’ad Irish mothers. They ’ad a few +drinks to steady themselves, and then one of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span>’em, Bob Mills by name, got so upset because +Ginger said he thought it ’ud be better not +to burn the ’ouse down, that it took three men +and the landlord to get ’im outside.</p> + +<p>“They went ’ome fust to see whether Sam +’ad turned up, and then, arter waking Bob, +who ’ad gorn to sleep in Peter’s bed, they set +off to find ’im. It was a tall, dirty house, just +off the ’Ighway, and Ginger began to think +that if they got Sam out in one piece they’d +be lucky. The front-door was open and a lot +o’ dirty-looking kids was playing on the steps.</p> + +<p>“‘It’s like a bee-hive,’ ses Peter. ‘He’ll take +some finding.’</p> + +<p>“‘I’ll find ’im,’ ses Bob, spitting on ’is +hands. ‘Come along.’</p> + +<p>He led them up the steps and opened the +fust door ’e come to as bold as brass, and +popped his ’ead in.</p> + +<p>“‘Where’s old Sam?’ he ses, to a woman +wot left off washing ’er baby to stare at ’im. +‘Wot ’ave you done with ’im?’</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp80" id="i_p175" style="max-width: 28em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_p175.png" alt=""> + <figcaption> + “‘WHERE’S OLD SAM?’ HE SES, TO A WOMAN WOT LEFT OFF WASHING + ’ER BABY TO STARE AT ’IM. ‘WOT ’AVE YOU DONE WITH ’IM?’” + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>“‘<i>Wot?</i>’ ses the woman.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span></p> + +<p>“‘We want Mr. Sam Small,’ ses Ginger, +putting ’is head over Bob’s shoulders.</p> + +<p>“‘Wot ’ave you done with ’im?’ ses Bob +agin.</p> + +<p>“‘Me?’ ses the woman. ‘Wot are you talking +about? ’Ow dare you come shoving your +ugly mug into a lady’s room and try and take +away ’er character? Wot d’ye mean by it?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span></p> + +<p>“She put the baby down on the floor very +careful and took up the basin o’ water. It +was a small basin, but the water showed that +the baby ’adn’t been washed afore it wanted +it, and Bob Mills was out o’ that room afore +you could say ‘knife.’</p> + +<p>“‘He ain’t there,’ he ses, as the door banged +be’ind ’im. ‘It’s a funny thing a woman can +never answer a civil question without losing +’er temper. If I ’adn’t kept my eye on ’er +I should have ’ad that water over me.’</p> + +<p>“‘They don’t use their reason,’ ses Ginger, +shaking his ’ead, and stopping at the next +door to let ’im go in fust.</p> + +<p>“There was nobody in that room except a +little gal of ten putting ’er little brothers to +bed, and the way she carried on when Bob +looked in would ha’ done credit to a woman of +seventy. He came out gasping for breath.</p> + +<p>“‘I’ll find ’im though,’ he ses to Ginger. +‘I’ll find ’im, if I ’ave to take all the boards +up. Now wot about trying upstairs?’</p> + +<p>“There was two families in the fust room +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span>they went in, and they was both worse than +each other. People came out of their rooms +to listen, and the way they carried on when +Ginger and ’is pals paid <i>them</i> a visit won’t +bear repeating. By the time they ’ad got to +the second floor the whole ’ouse was roused +and standing behind and offering to fight ’em.</p> + +<p>“Bob and ’is pal went into the fust room on +that floor alone, ’cos Ginger and Peter ’ad to +stay outside on the landing to keep the crowd +back. ’Ard work it was, too; one young +woman trying to bore holes in Peter with +a broom-’andle, while a dirty hand with a +wedding-ring on it kept coming out of the +crowd and pinching pore Ginger black and +blue.</p> + +<p>“In the middle of it there was a hullabaloo +in that room that made ’em all leave off to +listen. Deafening it was. People shouting +and struggling and things toppling about all +over the place. Then Bob and ’is mate came +out carrying something that looked like a mad +lion wrapped up in a blanket.</p> + +<p>“‘He was in bed, asleep,’ ses Bob, panting, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span>as a couple o’ naked legs shot out and kicked +anything they could find. ‘Pull your end o’ +the blanket down, Joe.’</p> + +<p>“‘Wot’s he done?’ ses a woman, gaping at +them.</p> + +<p>“‘Wot ’ave you done, you mean,’ ses Bob, +struggling. ‘He’s been kidnapped.’</p> + +<p>“‘And robbed,’ ses Ginger, shouting with +pain, as ’e got another pinch.</p> + +<p>“‘It’s all right, Sam, old man,’ ses Peter, +pulling back the blanket to give ’im a little +air. ‘Now—Lor’ lumme <i>this ain’t Sam</i>!’</p> + +<p>“They all started, and Bob was so surprised +that he let go of ’is end. It was the ’ead end +and the langwidge the old man it belonged +to used was awful. Then ’e got up very slow, +and, arter feeling his ’ead and using some +more langwidge about a bump ’e found there, +knocked Bob down.</p> + +<p>“In two twos they was all at it; the men +fighting and the women screaming. Men +Ginger hadn’t seen afore seemed to turn up +from nowhere to punch ’im. The four of ’em +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span>kept together as well as they could, and even +when Ginger got to the bottom of the stairs +’e found the other three on top of ’im. They +got outside at last, helped be’ind by the people +in the ’ouse, and didn’t stop for breath till they +was two streets away. Bob Mills found ’is +fust, and pretty near got run in for it.</p> + +<p>“‘I ought to take you by rights,’ ses the +policeman. ‘Wot ’ave you been doing to your +face? Treading on it?’</p> + +<p>“Bob was going to answer ’im, but Ginger +got ’is ’and over ’is mouth just in time.</p> + +<p>“‘It’s all right, sir, he ses, very perlite, ‘he’s +on’y a little bit excited. Come on, Bob.’</p> + +<p>“They managed to get ’im round the corner, +and then ’e shook ’em off and said he +never wanted to see ’em agin. He went off +with ’is mate, and Peter and Ginger, arter +being refused at three pubs because of their +looks, sent a young feller in for a bottle o’ +whisky to take ’ome with them.</p> + +<p>“They ’ad a drop or two when they got +indoors, and then they got a bit o’ rag and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span>some cold water and began to see wot they +could do for their faces.</p> + +<p>“‘And this is all through Sam,’ ses Ginger, +starting to grind ’is teeth and then finding +they was too loose to grind.</p> + +<p>“‘It’s a mystery,’ ses Peter, who was sitting +on Sam’s bed ’olding a wet rag to his eye. ‘I +believe you was right, Ginger. Something +seems to tell me we shall never see ’im agin.’</p> + +<p>“Ginger said he didn’t want to. His mouth +was so sore ’e couldn’t smoke, and arter another +drop or two o’ whisky, ’e said ’e was +going to bed.</p> + +<p>“He undressed ’imself very slow, grunting +and groaning all the time, and was just getting +into bed when Peter ’eld up ’is ’and.</p> + +<p>“‘Somebody’s coming upstairs,’ he ses.</p> + +<p>“‘Let ’em come,’ ses Ginger, very grumpy.</p> + +<p>“‘It—it can’t be Sam!’ ses Peter.</p> + +<p>“‘Sounds like ’im,’ ses Ginger, staring. It +is ’im,’ he ses, as they both ’eard a noise that +Sam used to make when ’e thought ’e was +singing.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a><a id="Page_182"></a><a id="Page_183"></a>[Pg 183]</span></p> + +<p>“They stood staring at the door as it opened +and Sam came into the room, looking very +bright and pleased with ’imself.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_p181" style="max-width: 30em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_p181.png" alt=""> + <figcaption> + “SAM CAME INTO THE ROOM LOOKING + VERY BRIGHT AND PLEASED WITH ’IMSELF.” + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>“‘’Ullo, mates!’ he ses. ‘Why—wot the—Wot +’ave you been doing to yourselves?’</p> + +<p>“He shook his ’ead, and screwed up ’is lips +at ’em.</p> + +<p>“‘It’s a funny thing I can’t go away for a +day or two without you getting into trouble,’ +he ses. ‘’Tain’t respectable.’</p> + +<p>“‘Ho!’ ses Ginger, finding ’is voice. ‘Ho, +indeed. This is all the thanks we get for trying +to ’elp you, is it? I s’pose you think it’s +more respectable to lose your trowsis at cards +and play in your shirt.’</p> + +<p>“‘And a tater-sack,’ ses Peter.</p> + +<p>“‘Trowsis!’ ses Sam, staring at ’em, ‘tater-sack! +’Ave you been drinking? or wot?’</p> + +<p>“Ginger looked at Peter and then ’e looked +very ’ard at Sam.</p> + +<p>“‘Where—’ave—you—been?’ he ses, very +slow and distinct.</p> + +<p>“‘Been staying with a chap at Stratford,’ +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span>ses Sam, ’elping ’imself to a drink. ‘My +friend Sid told me as he’d ’eard the police was +arter me for gambling, so I’ve been staying +with a pal of ’is for a few days to let it blow +over.’</p> + +<p>“‘And—and didn’t you write to us?’ ses +Ginger, as soon as he could speak.</p> + +<p>“‘Why, wot should I want to write to you +for?’ ses Sam, putting down ’is glass.</p> + +<p>“‘Money,’ ses Ginger, looking ’im straight +in the eye.</p> + +<p>“Sam shook his ’ead, ‘I ’ad enough on me,’ +he ses, ‘but it was just as well I left that eight +quid with you, Ginger. It might ’ave gorn +if I ’adn’t. Wot was it you was saying about +trowsis and tater-sacks, Peter?’</p> + +<p>“‘It’s a joke of your friend, Sid’s,’ ses +Ginger. ‘Ask him to tell it to you; you seem +to tell <i>’im</i> everything.’</p> + +<p class="p2">“Him and Peter woke up at five o’clock +next morning to go and look for fresh lodgings. +Sam didn’t wake up till eight, and then, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span>arter reading a couple o’ letters ’e found +tucked under ’is chin, he went off without any +brekfuss to look for Ginger and Peter, and +Sid, and eight quid.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="Handsome_Harry"> + Handsome Harry + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">“He’s</span> a bit of all right,” said Mr. Joe +Gossett, interrupting his description +of the new foreman, with a large +wedge of bread and cheese.</p> + +<p>His sister sniffed. “Fancy a man being +called ‘Handsome Harry’! <i>Pff!</i>”</p> + +<p>“He can’t ’elp what people call him,” said +Mr. Gossett, “and if you was to see him you’d +understand it. Five foot eleven, dark-blue +eyes, good teeth, and the finest short beard I +ever saw in my life. All brown and gold it +is. How he’s escaped, I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>“Escaped!” repeated his sister, in a shrewish +voice.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gossett nodded.</p> + +<p>“Poor dear!” said Miss Gossett, quivering.</p> + +<p>“After him like flies round a treacle-pot,” +continued her brother. “I’ve been with ’im +and I ought to know.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span></p> + +<p>“P’r’aps <i>you</i> was the attraction,” said his +mother, archly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gossett sniffed, but not so loudly as +his sister.</p> + +<p>“I don’t hold with handsome men,” said +Mrs. Gossett, shaking her head. “Nobody +could say that I married your pore father for +his good looks. His——”</p> + +<p>“Where did I get mine from, then?” interrupted +Miss Gossett.</p> + +<p>“My side of the family,” replied her +mother, modestly. “You was a Smithson and +Joe was a Gossett.”</p> + +<p>“If the Smithsons hadn’t got more good +looks than what Mabel has——” began the +indignant Mr. Gossett.</p> + +<p>“What a pair we should make,” said Miss +Gossett, with a simper, “me and Handsome +Harry! Bring him in one evening and +let’s have a look at him, Joe. What’s +his other name? If it isn’t nice I shan’t +have him.”</p> + +<p>“His name’s Cook,” said her brother, “and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span>as for you catching him, why, he’d laugh at +the idea.”</p> + +<p>“Bring him in and let’s have a look at him,” +repeated his sister, “then perhaps I’ll ask +Florrie Adams in one evening. I’ll tell her +you’ll be out.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, don’t tease him,” said Mrs. Gossett.</p> + +<p>“Tease him?” said the irritated Mr. Gossett, +pushing his chair away and rising. “Don’t +make me laugh. It’s a pity Mabel ain’t got +more sense, that’s all.”</p> + +<p>“Pity you ain’t a Smithson,” said Miss Gossett, +as he went outside for his hat. “You +might have a chance then.”</p> + +<p>He closed the street door with a bang that +sent a revivifying draught of fresh air through +the small house, and, somewhat ruffled in +spirit, set off at a smart pace down the road. +The subject of Miss Adams was a sore one, +the slavish admiration of some months +having yielded, so far, nothing but amusement +in return. A brotherly desire to +give Miss Gossett some idea of the pangs +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span>of unrequited affection sent his thoughts +again to the fascinations of Handsome +Harry.</p> + +<p>He turned the matter over in his mind for +a day or two, and resolved at last to introduce +his friend casually. If Miss Gossett were +taken at a disadvantage, so much the better; +he was not going to give her the chance of +“window-dressing.”</p> + +<p>His trouble was wasted. The night he introduced +Mr. Cook his sister had just returned +from the local cinema accompanied by Miss +Adams, and the first impression the visitor +received was of fine clothes and languorous +perfumes. In the best manner of the highest +circles both girls seemed to sit aloof, with little +interests of their own. Little intimate jests +and giggles testified to their complete absorption.</p> + +<p>“Good show?” inquired Mr. Gossett, in an +interval.</p> + +<p>“Pretty fair,” said his sister, languidly. +“Leonard Firebrace was on.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span></p> + +<p>“He’s a darling,” said Miss Adams, clasping +her hands enthusiastically.</p> + +<p>Messrs. Gossett and Cook said “<i>H’m!</i>” to +each other.</p> + +<p>“Supposed to be the handsomest man on +the films,” said Miss Gossett.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cook stroked his short, well-trimmed +beard and gave a finer point to the ends of his +moustache. “What’s he like?” he inquired, +in an indulgent voice.</p> + +<p>“Like a Greek god,” replied Miss Gossett, +quoting from a story in her favourite +periodical.</p> + +<p>“Straight nose, well-shaped mouth, and +wonderful eyes,” explained Miss Adams.</p> + +<p>“You only see men like that at the Pictures, +and in dreams,” said her friend, with a sigh. +“Think of his teeth!”</p> + +<p>Miss Adams thought of them, and sighed in +her turn. Mr. Gossett and Mr. Cook stirred +restlessly. The latter even ventured on a +cough; a cough more than tinged with criticism. +Under the calm, straight gaze of Miss +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span>Gossett it repeated itself—with a different +note, and subsided.</p> + +<p>“I must say,” remarked that lady, turning +to her friend, “that I like to see good looks +in a fellow. Joe!”</p> + +<p>“Hallo!” replied her brother.</p> + +<p>“Who is that good-looking man you were +talking about the other day? One of your +foremen, or something?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Gossett gasped, and sent a wireless +message with his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>“Man you call Pretty Bertie,” continued +his sister, ignoring it. “No, that +isn’t it.”</p> + +<p>“Have you gone dotty?” inquired the embarrassed +Mr. Gossett, in a gruff voice.</p> + +<p>“Or was it Lovely Charlie?” said his sister, +musing. “No, I remember—Handsome +Harry. That’s the name. Why don’t you +bring him in one day and let’s have a look at +him?”</p> + +<p>“Do,” urged Miss Adams.</p> + +<p>“If he’s only half as good-looking as what +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span>you say he is we might fall in love with him,” +said Miss Gossett.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp80" id="i_p192" style="max-width: 28em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_p192.png" alt=""> + <figcaption> + “IF HE’S ONLY HALF AS GOOD LOOKING AS WHAT + YOU SAY HE IS WE MIGHT FALL IN LOVE WITH HIM.” + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>Her brother eyed her helplessly, while Mr. +Cook, with an air of pained surprise, sat +awaiting the inevitable explanation.</p> + +<p>“That’s him,” said Mr. Gossett at last, with +a jerk of the head. “Where are your eyes?”</p> + +<p>“Him? Who?” inquired his sister.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span></p> + +<p>“Handsome Harry,” replied her brother. +“I told you his name was Cook.”</p> + +<p>Miss Gossett threw back her head and +laughed till the tears came. “Don’t be so +silly,” she said, wiping her eyes.</p> + +<p>“How can you?” said Miss Adams.</p> + +<p>“It’s only one of Joe’s larks,” said Miss +Gossett, turning to the goggle-eyed Mr. Cook. +“You mustn’t take any notice of him. The +idea of him pretending you are Handsome +Harry.”</p> + +<p>“As if we shouldn’t have noticed it,” murmured +Miss Adams.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cook turned his troubled gaze upon his +friend in a mute appeal for help, but Mr. +Gossett’s face was as bewildered as his own.</p> + +<p>“It’s a name that some of them have given +him,” said Mr. Gossett at last, in a surly voice.</p> + +<p>“How rude of them!” said his sister, +severely. “I shouldn’t take any notice of them +if I were you, Mr. Cook. But I must say +I should like to see the real one.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Cook gave it up. It struck him that +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span>the explanation might lie in defective eyesight, +and he recalled the story of a man who +took to spectacles, and ran away from his wife +a week afterwards.</p> + +<p>A feeling of regret that so pretty a girl +might have to take to glasses imparted a tenderness +to his glance that was by no means +wasted. Miss Gossett, lowering her eyes at +first under the onslaught, ventured after a time +to raise them and meet it. The gentle timidity +of her glance did much to restore Mr. Cook’s +self-esteem. In the language of the eyes long +practice had made him almost perfect, and +his gaze became so ardent and so confident that +Miss Gossett was moved to speech.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” she demanded.</p> + +<p>“Matter?” repeated Mr. Cook, in surprise.</p> + +<p>“You seemed to be staring in a funny sort of +way,” said the girl. “You don’t have fits, do +you?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Mr. Cook shortly.</p> + +<p>“Funny look he had,” said Miss Gossett, +turning to the others. “I didn’t like it at all. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span>I suppose you haven’t got anything in your +eye, Mr. Cook? I’m a dab at taking things +out.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Cook hesitated, and was lost. “I did +get something in coming along,” he murmured, +“but I thought it was out.”</p> + +<p>He smiled with content as the ministering +angel leaned over him and prised up the lid +with her finger. Then he winced and drew +back his head.</p> + +<p>“Keep still,” said the girl; “I’m not hurting +you.”</p> + +<p>“Not much,” corrected the victim. “<i>Ow!</i>”</p> + +<p>“It’s funny men can’t bear a little bit of +pain,” observed Miss Gossett, continuing +her explorations. “There! I nearly had +it then.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps it’ll work itself out,” suggested +Mr. Cook, wincing again.</p> + +<p>“I’ll have it out if you’ll only keep still,” +said Miss Gossett. “Anybody would think +I was hurting you.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Cook drew his head back with a sudden +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span>exclamation of pain. “What have you got?” +he inquired, hoarsely; “a scrubbing brush?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be silly,” said the girl, as the sufferer +clapped a handkerchief to his streaming +eyes.</p> + +<p>“It’s out,” he said, in a voice which endeavoured +in vain to express surprise and +gratitude. “It’s out.”</p> + +<p>“I knew I could do it,” said Miss Gossett. +“I could have done it sooner if you hadn’t +flinched so much.”</p> + +<p>“My eyes are very tender,” said Mr. Cook.</p> + +<p>“That’s what I thought a few minutes ago,” +said the girl, “but perhaps you’ll grow out of +it. Let’s hope so.”</p> + +<p>“It’s never too late to mend,” observed Miss +Adams oracularly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cook arose in dignified silence and, +with a final dab at his eyes, restored his handkerchief +to his pocket and announced that +he must be going. At Miss Adams’s suggestion, +Mr. Gossett, rising with some unwillingness, +offered to accompany him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span></p> + +<p>“Me and Mabel want to have a little chat,” +said Miss Adams, in explanation.</p> + +<p>“All by ourselves,” added Miss Gossett.</p> + +<p>Agreeable to this strange lack of taste on the +part of the ladies the gentlemen withdrew, +Mr. Cook, to whom this sort of treatment was +absolutely new, walking out of the house like +a man in a dream. Memories of countless +conquests stirred in his brain but yielded no +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>“Very off-handish, ain’t she?” he said at +last.</p> + +<p>“She learns it from Mabel,” said his friend. +“They’re as thick as two thieves.”</p> + +<p>“I mean your sister,” said Mr. Cook.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” replied Mr. Gossett. “Her!”</p> + +<p>“She’s very nice-looking,” said Mr. Cook, +after a long pause.</p> + +<p>“She seems to make people think so,” said +the fond brother. “How she does it, I don’t +know. I’m as good a judge as most men, but +I can’t see it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you can take it from me,” said the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span>other, impressively, “that she is about the best-looking +girl I have ever seen. She’s your step-sister, +isn’t she?”</p> + +<p>“Step-sister?” repeated Mr. Gossett, with +surprising vehemence. “No, of course she +ain’t. What ever put that into your head?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” said Mr. Cook hurriedly. +“I spoke without thinking. Of course there’s +a great likeness; anybody could see that.”</p> + +<p>The indignant Mr. Gossett received the assurance +with a grunt, and listened in amazed +silence while his friend explained to him in +enraptured terms the manifold perfections of +his sister.</p> + +<p>“But you hadn’t seen her till an hour ago!” +he protested.</p> + +<p>“I shall have to make up for lost time,” +said Mr. Cook, earnestly. “What about to-morrow +night?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Gossett said there was nothing about +it, and declined in the most unmistakable +terms to have anything to do with the affair.</p> + +<p>“She’d only make fun of you,” he said, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span>severely. “You ought to have seen her face +when she was messing about with your eye.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Cook said he <i>had</i> seen it, and smacked +his lips.</p> + +<p>“And she’ll do worse than that if you don’t +let ’er alone,” continued Mr. Gossett. “Why, +there was one silly fellow that used to come +after her, and she led ’im such a dance that +he went away and joined the Army.”</p> + +<p>“Very good place for him,” said Mr. Cook +approvingly. “Besides, we must have soldiers.”</p> + +<p>“When I took you round I thought you +would have learnt ’er a lesson,” said his +friend; “instead of that you’re worse than any +of ’em. It makes <i>me</i> look such a fool. I expect +she’s talking about you now and laughing +fit to kill herself.”</p> + +<p>“She’s got a pretty laugh,” said the other, +with a tender smile. “I could listen to it all +day.”</p> + +<p>He heard it a night or two later, when, +failing his utmost efforts to obtain an invitation +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span>from Mr. Gossett, he called without one, +apparently for the purpose of telling Miss +Gossett that it was a fine evening, but that +a little rain would do good. After which +effort he sat and watched Miss Gossett gurgling +foolishly into her handkerchief.</p> + +<p>“Don’t take no notice of her,” said Mrs. +Gossett, somewhat disturbed.</p> + +<p>“I like it,” replied Mr. Cook, simply.</p> + +<p>“Sounds silly to me,” said Mrs. Gossett, +shaking her head at her daughter.</p> + +<p>“That’s why I like it,” said Mr. Cook, +floundering. “I like silly people.”</p> + +<p>Miss Gossett’s laughter ended abruptly.</p> + +<p>“Did you come to see Joe?” she inquired, with +some austerity.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cook shook his head.</p> + +<p>“What did you come for, then?”</p> + +<p>The visitor looked imploringly at Mrs. Gossett, +but seeing no help there turned to the +daughter. “I came to tell you my eye is all +right now,” he said, slowly. “I thought you’d +like to know.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span></p> + +<p>Miss Gossett gazed at him, deep in thought +“Will you be able to see your way home with +it?” she said at last, in a soft voice.</p> + +<p>The visitor became thoughtful in his turn. +“Perhaps—perhaps it would be safer if somebody—somebody +came with me,” he murmured.</p> + +<p>Miss Gossett nodded. “Ye-es,” she said, +softly. “Yes, I think it would. Can you give +me a couple of minutes?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Cook, flushing with joy, said that he +could, and, hardly able to believe in his good +fortune, bestowed a half-wink upon Mrs. +Gossett as her daughter left the room.</p> + +<p>“Gone up to put her hat on?” he inquired, +in a low voice.</p> + +<p>“P’r’aps,” said the surprised Mrs. Gossett, +“and p’r’aps not,” she added. “If I don’t +expect her to do a thing, she does it, and if I +expect her to do a thing she don’t do it. +That’s Mabel.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Cook shook his head gently in sympathy. +Then he prepared to rise as Miss Gossett +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span>entered the room followed by a small +and extremely dirty youth in patched knickerbockers.</p> + +<p>“This is Tommy Burrows, from next door,” +she said.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cook nodded—and waited.</p> + +<p>“By good luck, he happened to be in,” continued +the girl. “This is the poor gentleman, +Tommy, and if you lead him safe home he will +give you a shilling. You had better hold +his sleeve. And mind how you cross the +roads.”</p> + +<p>She stood smiling benevolently as Master +Burrows, in pursuance of his instructions, took +the dazed and speechless Mr. Cook by the +sleeve and piloted him carefully from the +room. At the street-door he paused and strove +to collect his scattered faculties.</p> + +<p>“Good-bye,” said Miss Gossett, brightly.</p> + +<p>The unfortunate gasped at her, and then, +obedient to a tug at his sleeve, moved slowly +off. The laugh that he had so much admired +was heard again, but some of its savour seemed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span>to have departed. It was clear that he had +lost the first two rounds, and, with a faint +hope that Tommy’s mother might have something +to say to Miss Gossett on the subject, he +took that hapless youth ten miles for the shilling. +By the next morning he had recovered +his spirits and the vitriolic scorn of Joe +Gossett passed him harmlessly by. It +appeared that Miss Gossett had persisted in +regarding her brother as privy to the visit +and chose to include him as a victim of her +cleverness.</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” said Mr. Cook equably. +“You shall have the laugh of her by and +by.”</p> + +<p>“When?” demanded the unbeliever.</p> + +<p>“When I marry her,” was the reply.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gossett turned and regarded his friend +in amazement. “Have you gone silly or +what?” he inquired huskily.</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing to go silly about,” responded +Mr. Cook. “I’ve thought all along +I should be caught some time. She’s got me +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span>hard and fast, and the funny thing is, I don’t +mind. I like it.”</p> + +<p>“But she won’t have you,” objected the staring +Mr. Gossett. “She wouldn’t look at you.”</p> + +<p>“You tell her I’m going to marry her,” +said Mr. Cook. “Tell her I’m going to +marry her, and the sooner she makes up her +mind to it the better.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Gossett took the message. The one he +brought back next day lost nothing in transit.</p> + +<p>“So there you are,” he said, grinning. +“She says she wouldn’t have you if you were +the only man in the world.”</p> + +<p>“She couldn’t,” said the philosophical Mr. +Cook; “there’d be too many after me.” He +called next evening and, Miss Gossett being +out, left a little bunch of flowers he had hidden +beneath his coat. Mr. Gossett brought +back the withered remains next day. A large +and expensive box of chocolates left two days +later was returned empty, but any comfort +Mr. Cook might have derived from the fact +vanished when he heard that it had accompanied +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span>Mr. Gossett and Miss Adams to the +cinema.</p> + +<p>“She ate the chocs with one hand while I +held the other,” explained Mr. Gossett. “Try +Mabel with another box to-night, old man.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Cook, intent upon what he now considered +would be a long campaign, made no +reply. Despite his utmost efforts he was unable +to obtain speech with Miss Gossett, and +a letter, sent through the post, was returned +marked, “Opened by mistake.” Assailed by +doubts, only his looking-glass convinced him +that he held a winning hand. He called again, +and spent three hours of mutual boredom with +Mrs. Gossett, while Miss Gossett sat upstairs +in her bedroom, blaspheming.</p> + +<p>“It’s the only way to treat ’em,” he said to +Mr. Gossett, when that gentleman remonstrated. +“Show ’em you ain’t afraid of ’em +and they come to heel.”</p> + +<p>“And what about my poor mother?” demanded +his friend hotly. “She ’ad you all +last evening, talking about the weather, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span>Mabel all breakfast time talking about hairdressers’ +blocks and tailors’ dummies. Don’t +you come again.”</p> + +<p>“Not till next time,” said the other calmly.</p> + +<p>As a matter of good-feeling and policy +combined he decided to let a few days lapse +before calling again. A slight swelling and +soreness in the neck attributed to a tooth which +had been troubling him for some time led to a +still further delay. The distortion of face +was especially trying to a man of his appearance, +and, after enduring for two days the +glances of his fellow-workers and the +ribaldries of Mr. Gossett, he stayed away +from pork.</p> + +<p>He sat at home next day with his head +wrapped in a shawl. Dainties, as conceived +by his landlady for an invalid, remained untouched. +And he was in the depths of misery +when the door opened and Mr. Gossett +stepped blithely in.</p> + +<p>“Jee-rusalem!” said that gentleman.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cook tried to smile, and Mr. Gossett +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span>retreated a couple of paces, and placed his +hand on the door-knob.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you ’ave the tooth out?” he +demanded.</p> + +<p>“When—swelling—goes—down,” croaked +the invalid.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gossett looked at him and hesitated. +“Mabel wants you to come to supper,” he said +at last. “She sent me to ask you.”</p> + +<p>There was a long pause.</p> + +<p>“You—told—her—’bout this,” said Mr. +Cook, “and she wants—to make—fun of me.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Gossett coughed.</p> + +<p>“All right,” said the other, “I’ll come. I +don’t mind if she does laugh.”</p> + +<p>Fortunately, as Mr. Gossett observed, it +was getting dark, and Mr. Cook’s features +attracted no attention. A little natural reluctance +to enter the sitting-room gave way before +a hearty push from his companion.</p> + +<p>“It is good of you to come,” said Miss Gossett, +her lips trembling.</p> + +<p>“You—asked me,” said Mr. Cook, speaking +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span>slowly and painfully from one side of his +mouth. “And I came—because—you thought—I +wouldn’t.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t take no notice of her,” said Mrs. +Gossett “For shame, Mabel,” she added.</p> + +<p>“I ca-can’t help it,” said her daughter, wiping +her eyes. “He—looks so plump and well-fed.”</p> + +<p>“He looks ill,” said Mrs. Gossett severely. +“Have you seen a doctor?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Cook said he didn’t believe in doctors, +and, turning a deaf ear to the misbehaviour of +Miss Gossett, took the seat next to her at the +supper-table and sat gloomily eyeing food he +was unable to eat. By an effort he managed +to sip a little beer, and, at Miss Gossett’s earnest +entreaty, ate a small quantity of rice pudding +from a salt-spoon. The fact that she fed +him with the first two mouthfuls atoned for +much.</p> + +<p>“Pity Florrie couldn’t come to supper,” +said Miss Gossett, turning to her brother.</p> + +<p>“She’ll be here soon, I expect,” he +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span>answered. “She ’ad an appointment, but she +said she’d be sure to come if she could. There +she is, I think.”</p> + +<p>Rapid steps paused at the door, followed by +a knock which Mr. Gossett hastened to answer. +Voices sounded in the narrow passage.</p> + +<p>“Come in, Florrie,” cried Miss Gossett. +“Handsome Harry is here.”</p> + +<p>Miss Adams came in, with a broad smile +revealing white teeth. Then her eyes dilated, +and uttering a piercing shriek she fell +back into the passage.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be silly,” cried the highly-gratified +Miss Gossett; “he’s quite harmless.”</p> + +<p>There was a smothered exclamation from +Miss Adams, followed by the sound of the +opening of the street-door.</p> + +<p>“It’s too bad,” said Mrs. Gossett. “Mabel, +I won’t have it.”</p> + +<p>The voice of Miss Adams was heard outside.</p> + +<p>“He ought to be shut up,” she exclaimed in +piercing tones, “or boiled,” she added. “If +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span>I catch ’em, I’ll never speak to you +again.”</p> + +<p>“Catch what?” demanded the harassed Mr. +Gossett.</p> + +<p>The reply set the party in the parlour +tingling.</p> + +<p>“<i>Mumps</i>,” she said viciously. “As if you +didn’t know.”</p> + +<p>The grating of Miss Gossett’s chair as she +pushed it back broke the silence.</p> + +<p>“Mumps!” she wailed; “mumps! and I’ve +been sitting next to him.”</p> + +<p>“And feeding him,” added Mr. Cook +gloomily. “Well! well! Fancy—its being +mumps—all the time. And at—my age too. +I thought——”</p> + +<p>He finished speaking to an empty room. +The ladies were upstairs and, judging by the +noise, somewhat perturbed. The voice of +Mr. Gossett—from the landing—bade him +begone. He returned to work nearly three +weeks later.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gossett was not there, and the voice of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span>envy declared that five other gentlemen were +also staying at home in sinful luxury with the +mumps.</p> + +<p>He went round to call the same evening, +and asked for news of Joe.</p> + +<p>“They’ve both got it,” said Mrs. Gossett, +in a tired voice. “Poor Mabel! you ought to +see her.”</p> + +<p>“I will,” said Mr. Cook, stepping inside. +“Can you send her down?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gossett smiled faintly. “She wouldn’t +let anybody see her for a thousand pounds,” +she declared. “I don’t think her face will +ever get right again. It’s like a piller.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Cook, walking to the foot of the stairs, +raised his voice and called loudly upon the +name of Miss Gossett. A door opened softly +and a strange, cracked voice told him to go +away.</p> + +<p>“I want to see you,” he answered.</p> + +<p>“Go away,” repeated the girl.</p> + +<p>“I came to see you when I had ’em,” said +Mr. Cook. “Now I dare you to come down +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span>and see me. If you haven’t got the pluck, +say so.”</p> + +<p>“Go away—you brute!” said the voice.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be a coward,” urged Mr. Cook. +“Surely you ain’t going to be outdone by me. +I’ll wait in the parlour for you. Be a sportsman.”</p> + +<p>He waited five minutes. A halting step +sounded from the stairs, and a little later the +door opened and a disfigured and indignant +Miss Gossett entered the room and stood +glowering at him.</p> + +<p>“Poor old thing,” he said tenderly.</p> + +<p>“You gave me this,” she said fiercely.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cook shook his head. “You took it,” +he corrected gently. He placed his arm suddenly +around her waist, and, choosing her +forehead as the point of least resistance, kissed +it ardently.</p> + +<p>“It’ll soon go away,” he said cheerfully. +“In about ten days’ time we shall be the best-looking +couple in the neighbourhood.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="The_Blindness"> + The Blindness + of Captain Ferguson + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">From</span> outside the house looked desolate +enough. It stood alone where the grass +of the marshes met the sand of the +shore. On one side a view of marsh and +cattle, dykes and gates, on the other the waters +of the North Sea.</p> + +<p>Inside, in the cosy sitting-room, the Captain +sat and fumed. The fire was burning low and +he had mislaid his pipe, while his wife, to +whom he usually looked to adjust these +matters, was upstairs with the sick girl from +London, who had come home in search of +rest and health.</p> + +<p>“The women are all alike,” grumbled the +Captain, as he rose and felt cautiously along +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span>the mantelshelf for the missing pipe, “gossiping +as usual.”</p> + +<p>His fumbling hands struck against a china +shepherdess and wrecked her on the fender, +for blindness had come upon him late in life +and his huge gnarled fists lacked the touch +usually associated with those who have lost +their sight. With a rueful grumble he sank +back into his chair again as his wife entered +the room.</p> + +<p>“Jenny, I’ve smashed something,” said the +offender humbly. “I was looking for my +pipe.”</p> + +<p>“Here’s your pipe, Jem,” she replied, as +she thrust it into his hands. “I must leave +you a little while longer. Edith is not quite +so well.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll come up and talk to her,” said the +Captain, with the air of one who possessed +a sovereign remedy.</p> + +<p>“No, you mustn’t,” said his wife, pushing +his great form back into the chair, “she’s not +well enough to talk much. I’ll be back soon.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp80" id="i_p215" style="max-width: 28em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_p215.png" alt=""> + <figcaption> + “NO, YOU MUSTN’T,” SAID HIS WIFE, PUSHING + HIS GREAT FORM BACK INTO THE CHAIR. + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>The Captain, impelled by that small but +resolute arm, stayed where he had fallen, and +lighting his pipe fell to smoking with much +enjoyment, listening to the beating of the +surf and the wind, which was blowing almost +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span>a gale. The combination was so soothing that +he fell asleep at length with the pipe between +his teeth.</p> + +<p>He awoke with a start and a vague confused +idea that somebody had called him. +Certainly a cry of some sort still rang in his +ears, and placing his pipe on the table, he rose +and stood with one hand on the back of his +chair listening. At first only the wind and +the surf, then mixed with it the faint wailing +of a child. The Captain felt his way to the +door and called excitedly to his wife.</p> + +<p>“Jenny! Jenny!”</p> + +<p>“All right, go back,” called his wife quickly, +from the top of the stairs. “I’m coming down +now.”</p> + +<p>“I heard a cry outside,” said the Captain. +“The cry of a child.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense, you’ve been dreaming.”</p> + +<p>“I tell you I heard it,” repeated the Captain, +as he threw open the house door. “Listen!”</p> + +<p>“There!” said the Captain, holding up a +warning finger. “I heard it again.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span></p> + +<p>“So did I,” said his wife. “It’s outside.”</p> + +<p>“Get a shawl and come after me, my lass,” +said the Captain, taking down a coil of line +made fast to the staple of the door, which he +used for short wanderings. “Hallo, there! +Hallo!”</p> + +<p>He walked slowly in the darkness, listening +eagerly while his wife turned her white face +upwards and in broken accents thanked +Heaven for her husband’s blindness. Then +she came downstairs, and with the agility of a +girl ran by her husband.</p> + +<p>The Captain paying out his line, and treading +softly, heard her stop and cry out suddenly, +and then, with an indistinct cry to him, speed +back to the house.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got it,” she cried. “I’ve got it.”</p> + +<p>He turned and followed rapidly. Inside he +closed the door and stood in the hall listening +to the crying of a child, which now sounded +through the house, and the hurried footsteps +of his wife as she moved about in the room +above.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span></p> + +<p>“It’s a baby, Jim,” said his wife, coming +half-way down the stairs and closely watching +her husband’s face as it showed in the light +from the sitting-room. “Just a little child, +wrapped in an old shawl and left to die. Only +a few days old, by the look of it.”</p> + +<p>“Ay, ay,” said the Captain, very slowly. +“Go upstairs, my dear. Go upstairs.”</p> + +<p>He turned and, closing the door after him, +groped his way back to his chair, leaving his +wife, after a moment’s irresolution, to do his +bidding. The fire was out and the room chill +before she came down again, and the tears +sprang to her tired eyes as she saw the strong, +helpless man patiently awaiting her return.</p> + +<p>“How’s Edith?” he asked, without turning +his head.</p> + +<p>“She’s not very well, I think,” said his wife, +in a low, frightened voice, “but she has just +fallen asleep. I don’t think I’d disturb her +to-night, Jim, if I were you.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t,” said the Captain quietly. “I’ll +get to bed, too, I think. Good-night.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span></p> + +<p>He went slowly up the stairs and into his +room, his wife following him noiselessly, and +not until the door had closed behind him did +she relax her watchfulness; then, in a dazed +condition, she made her way to her daughter +and fell half-fainting across her bed.</p> + +<p>In the morning, in the cool salt air and the +sunshine, her flagging spirits revived and she +greeted her husband in almost her usual cheery +fashion as he came in from his tethered walk +along the shore to breakfast.</p> + +<p>“Edith not coming down?” he inquired, as +he took his seat at the table.</p> + +<p>“Not to breakfast,” she replied, watching +him.</p> + +<p>“Best not, if she doesn’t feel strong,” said the +Captain briskly. “I’ve been thinking about +that child.”</p> + +<p>“Ah,” said his wife, and the cup she was +passing him rattled in the saucer.</p> + +<p>“If nobody claims it,” continued the +Captain, “take it up to London and let old +Sparling’s widow have it. She’ll take it if we +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span>pay her. I suppose we can’t send it to the +workhouse?”</p> + +<p>“We can’t keep it?” suggested his wife +timidly.</p> + +<p>“No,” said the Captain, with a mirthless +laugh, “we’re too old to be plagued with +children.”</p> + +<p>His wife said no more, but later in the +morning informed him that she had written +to London to make arrangements, and that +Edith would not be up that day, but would +come down the next.</p> + +<p>More than a week, however, elapsed before +she put in an appearance, and then very pale +and trembling she came down and took her +accustomed seat. To her father’s great relief +she came alone, yet she was but indifferent +company, her thoughts being with her mother +and the child who had just started on their +journey to London.</p> + +<p>After this the time passed slowly and uneventfully +to the dwellers in the cottage. Edith, +quiet and patient, felt her life bounded by the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span>sea and marsh, and never looked beyond. Only +her mother fretted as she thought of her beautiful +daughter and her wasted life. For his +part the Captain seemed not to think at all, +except that once when his daughter threw out +a feeble suggestion of seeking employment, he +drew her to his knee, and encircled her with +an arm of iron.</p> + +<p>The child was never alluded to, though +many and various were the plans mother and +daughter considered for its future. The child +itself solved the problem; it died, and its +mother, weeping bitterly over the ill-written +scrawl which conveyed the news to her, prayed +for death too.</p> + +<p>If anything, she became quieter than before, +despite the efforts of her father to arouse her. +Sometimes it was a long walk with the blind +man along the shore, at another they would +put to sea in the Captain’s small skiff and +stay for hours on the lonely waste of waters.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly things changed. One day, +after a longer walk than usual, they were +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span>astonished as they neared the house by the +unwonted sounds of a man’s voice. It was +a full, hearty voice, and it was evident +from the animated conversation within +that the stranger was feeling very much +at home.</p> + +<p>“Jem,” said his wife, as he entered, “you +remember George Merrick, but he’s grown +from a boy to a man since we saw him.”</p> + +<p>“And from apprentice to master,” said the +stranger, as he rose and gripped the other’s +hand. “All your teaching, Cap’n, all your +teaching.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve got a ship, my lad?” inquired the +Captain, as he returned the shake.</p> + +<p>“A brand new one,” replied the other. “But +I’ve got to wait a couple of months for her +and I thought I’d spend the holiday looking +up my friends. I got your address from your +old owners, and here I am.”</p> + +<p>“And here you’ll stay till your ship’s ready,” +said the Captain cordially. “That is if you can +put up with an old blind man and his household. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span>Lord, it’s good to hear the voice of a +friend in this desolate place.”</p> + +<p>“Sure I shan’t be a nuisance?” asked +Merrick. “You know of old how noisy I am.”</p> + +<p>“Not a bit of it, you’ll liven us all up,” +replied the other. “It’ll be a boon to me to +have somebody to talk over old times with.”</p> + +<p>“Well, when you are tired of me tell me to +go,” laughed Merrick, and so the matter was +settled.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>With the introduction of a visitor from the +outside world dullness fled from the cottage, +and in a very short time George Merrick was +on the happiest terms with all of them; the +Captain remarking with surprise conversational +powers on the part of his wife he had +long since thought defunct.</p> + +<p>All this the Captain heard, but he was a +sense short. He could not see the honest +admiration with which Merrick eyed the +daughter while he talked to the mother, nor +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</span>the subtle joy of the latter in the knowledge +of it.</p> + +<p>A sharper man might have remarked the +deference in the visitor’s tones when he addressed +the daughter, but he did not, nor when +Merrick and his daughter were from the room +did it occur to him that they might be together.</p> + +<p>It was three weeks after Merrick’s arrival +before his eyes were opened. The visitor had +gone on an errand to the neighbouring town, +and his host was sitting at the open window, +smoking and listening to the clicking of his +wife’s needles as she knitted a mammoth +sock.</p> + +<p>“Jem,” said his wife, suddenly suspending +her work, “I think George Merrick wants a +little talk with you this afternoon.”</p> + +<p>“He may have it,” said the Captain affably.</p> + +<p>“You—you don’t seem to understand,” said +his wife, her voice shaking a little; “you men +are all alike, I think. He wants Edith.”</p> + +<p>“<i>What?</i>” shouted the Captain.</p> + +<p>“He spoke to me this morning,” continued +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</span>his wife, “and, of course, I referred him to +you.”</p> + +<p>“Has he spoken to her?” inquired the +Captain.</p> + +<p>“He spoke to her last night,” was the reply, +“and she accepted him. I saw all along that +they were taken with each other.”</p> + +<p>“And you never stopped it,” said the +Captain. “You let it go on.”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” said his wife, in surprised +tones. “Why not?”</p> + +<p>“Your memory is failing,” said her husband. +“Think—go back three years; go back to the +night the child came.”</p> + +<p>“Jem,” said his wife, in a frightened +whisper. “What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“Have you told him what you told me, or +have you told him the truth?” pursued the +other sternly.</p> + +<p>His wife, breathing rapidly, made no reply.</p> + +<p>“I have never referred to it before,” said +the Captain, more gently. “I never would +have referred to it but for this. To save my +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</span>poor girl’s pride—and my own—I pretended +to believe the lie you told me, for I am a +blind man, my dear, and harmless. When a +man loses his sight he should die, for he is +a moving, <i>dangerous</i> man no longer. He is +a derelict, and can only hurt that which runs +against him.”</p> + +<p>“It is all past and over,” murmured his wife +brokenly.</p> + +<p>“So I had thought,” replied the husband. +“I never thought to have told my daughter’s +shame to another man.”</p> + +<p>“You will not,” cried his wife wildly. “I +will never forgive you if you do. Hasn’t my +darling suffered enough? We did wrong in +sending such a child to that great, wicked city. +And she loves him. If you tell him that, it +will kill her.”</p> + +<p>“I am a proud man,” said the Captain +sternly, as he rose, “and no man shall enter +my family under false pretences. I will tell +him. If he likes to overlook it, well and good. +Nobody will be happier than I shall.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</span></p> + +<p>“Overlook it!” repeated his wife. “To save +your pride, you were content to keep your eyes +shut—why do you wish to open his? Do you +think he will thank you for the information?”</p> + +<p>“Where is he?” asked the Captain.</p> + +<p>“He is out with Edith,” said his wife, +crossing over and falling on her knees beside +him. “Jem, don’t tell him; for pity’s sake let +things be. Edith refused him at first, she +has pride, too. She would not listen to him. +But I told him before her that she loved him +and after that he would not be denied. She +is a good girl—you know she is a good girl—and +if you ruin her life like this, you will +break my heart.”</p> + +<p>Before the Captain could reply or disengage +his hands from hers, voices were heard in the +hall, and Merrick entered the room and looked +significantly at his hostess.</p> + +<p>“Captain,” he said in a strong voice, “I +suppose Mrs. Ferguson has told you that +I have asked your daughter to be my wife. +I——”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</span></p> + +<p>“Sit down,” said the Captain quietly. +“Jenny, Merrick and I will settle this.”</p> + +<p>His wife rose helplessly to her feet. “Not +now, Jem,” she cried piteously, “not now; +think first.”</p> + +<p>The Captain shook his head, and his wife, +avoiding the gaze of the astonished Merrick, +left the room and went upstairs to her +daughter. Ten minutes later, through blinding +tears, she saw Merrick quit the house and +walk like a drunken man along the sands.</p> + +<p>“He has gone,” she whispered, “gone without +a word.”</p> + +<p>Edith rose, pale and dry eyed and crossed +over to the window; then flushing darkly she +bent over her mother and kissed her.</p> + +<p>“I should not love him if he had stayed,” +she said.</p> + +<p>For the rest of that day she kept her room, +only going downstairs when she heard her +mother’s bedroom door close. Her father sat +by the window, his unsmoked pipe by the sill +and his hands clasped before him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</span></p> + +<p>“Good night, father,” she said, quietly, as +she crossed over to him and placed her arms +about his neck. “And thank you, for—everything.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll—we’ll be the same as before, my +girl,” said the Captain, as he drew her soft +cheek on to his shoulder. “It was best for +you, best for him.”</p> + +<p>“You have been wonderfully good to me,” +said the girl, in a low voice. “I thank you +and love you for it.”</p> + +<p>She disengaged herself from his arms and +rose, pausing at the door to bid him good +night again, and passed upstairs.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>An hour later, when the house was still and +dark, she crept down again. It was a warm +summer’s night, but she shivered slightly and +caught her breath when the door rattled, under +the touch of her shaky fingers, as she opened it. +Then she closed it behind her, and with a +slight sob at the pity of it all, walked towards +the sea. For a minute she paused irresolute, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</span>and a man who had walked down for a last +look at the house which contained her, stepped +from its shadow and stood miserably watching. +Then, as he heard the grating of the boat’s +keel on the beach, he sprang forward eagerly, +crying her name.</p> + +<p>He was just too late; the boat floated and the +girl, with a stroke of the oars, sent it from the +shore. Without further parley he threw off +his coat and shoes, and wading in, struck out +in pursuit.</p> + +<p>“Go back,” cried the girl from between her +teeth. “Go back.”</p> + +<p>There was no reply, but a slight splashing +in the wake of the boat spoke for itself. She +bent to the oars, the noise getting fainter and +fainter as she widened the distance between +them.</p> + +<p>With her face white and set, she kept on her +way until, despite herself, her heart failed her, +and she stopped rowing to listen. At first +there was a dead silence, then she fancied she +could still hear him striving to reach her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</span></p> + +<p>“Go back!” she cried piteously, “go back!”</p> + +<p>“I can’t,” he shouted, calmly, “it’s too far.”</p> + +<p>The girl sat motionless, peering through the +gloom. Across the water came the sound of +quick, distressed breathing, and weak, rapid +strokes. With a great cry, she turned the boat’s +head round and pulled in the direction of the +swimmer.</p> + +<p>“Where are you?” she cried, wildly; “call +out.”</p> + +<p>At the faintness of the response she increased +her efforts until she came alongside something +which struggled manfully in the dark water, +and strove to keep its white face above it. +Just in time she leaned over, and, grasping it +by the shoulder, drew it to the stern of the boat +and held it fiercely and strongly to her breast.</p> + +<p>“If you want to die, dear,” gasped the man, +as he lay a little later in the bottom of the boat, +holding her hands, “pull out the plug and +we’ll go down together, but living or dead, you +shall not go from me again.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="Wapping-on-Thames"> + Wapping-on-Thames + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">As</span> a residential neighbourhood Wapping +is perhaps undesirable, though +a considerable population contrives +to exist in the narrow streets hemmed in between +the dock walls and the warehouses bordering +the river. For the river itself is +completely hidden except where the swing-bridges, +which give entrance to the docks, +afford a passing glimpse.</p> + +<p>From a picturesque point of view Wapping +was no doubt much better in the days when +docks and swing-bridges were unknown; when +the bow-windows of its ancient taverns +projected quaintly over the river and the +watermen’s stairs inspired the muse of the +song-writer. Then the raucous bellowings of +hurrying steamers were unheard, and sailing +craft thoughtfully waited for tides, while +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</span>master-mariners sat drinking in the bow-windows +aforesaid.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp80" id="i_p233" style="max-width: 28em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_p233.png" alt=""> + <figcaption> + WHILE MASTER-MARINERS SAT DRINKING + IN THE BOW-WINDOWS AFORESAID + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>The old church and the charity school, with +the overgrown graveyard opposite, with its +rank grass and dingy trees, are the remains of +those days. The green of the churchyard is a +relief to the bricks and mortar, for trees are +scarce in Wapping, though there are a few +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</span>others in front of the old-fashioned houses on +the breezy pier-head hard by—trees which, +having been coaxed to grow in that uncongenial +spot, conscientiously endeavour to indicate +the seasons, and make very few mistakes +considering.</p> + +<p>High Street, Wapping, the principal thoroughfare, +realising, possibly, that High Streets +are apt to adhere too slavishly to one pattern, +appears to have determined to be original. It +sternly eschews the drapers and hatters, the +bootmakers and tailors of other High Streets, +and confines its retail trade almost entirely to +coffee-shops and taverns. The coffee-shops +are as conservative as the street, and one +window is much like another—herrings, rejoicing +in their strength, competing for favour +with bacon of guaranteed mildness and eggs +of blameless exterior.</p> + +<p>Early in the morning the night-watchmen +are awakened by vans, and late at night their +sleep is broken by them. For Wapping revels +in vans of all shapes and all sizes, but preferably +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</span>large, and has put down granite roads for +their especial delectation. The vans are from +all quarters of London, and their drivers from +all parts of the country, but the latter are the +willing victims of one dominant idea. It is the +ambition of every carman—the thing for +which he plots and plans, and swears and lies—to +be attended to out of his turn. The more +out of his turn the better, and a boy of innocent +aspect and no principles, who will ably second +his perjuries, is as the apple of his eye. This, +and sitting in dangerous attitudes on the tail-board +of the van, or doing a double-shuffle on +the extreme edge of the kerb, is the van-boy’s +part in life. In his spare moments he watches +his chief back horses, for, as a backer of horses +in a blameless sense, the river-side carman has +probably no equal in the world. At one time, +in addition to the road, he had about two feet +of pavement to manœuvre on as well, but now +he has been warned off by iron posts of the +most upright and rigid bearing.</p> + +<p>Down Tower Hill, thinking no evil, comes +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</span>a mildewed four-wheeler driven by an elderly +cabman, who pulls up so sharply at the bottom +of the hill that the horse slides a yard or two +and then tries to sit down.</p> + +<p>“Drive on, cabman!” says a shrill voice +inside, as the owner of it knuckles at the glass. +“What are you stopping for? It’s farther on!”</p> + +<p>“All right, lady,” says the cabman. He +knows that the sex requires humouring, and +“clucks” the horse on exactly seventeen inches.</p> + +<p>“Any chance o’ gettin’ by, sir?” he inquires +with deep respect of a tall policeman.</p> + +<p>The tall policeman eyes the traffic critically +and a Pickford’s van severely. Pickford’s +horses are pawing the pavement, while their +tail-board is giving great offence to a pair of +horses behind.</p> + +<p>“Pickford!” yells the tall policeman with +great suddenness.</p> + +<p>Half a dozen voices take up the cry of +“Pickford,” and Pickford’s representative not +being forthcoming (he is at the present +moment making Language, with a capital L, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</span>do for argument with the foreman), a small +boy appears from the depths of the van to see +what he can do.</p> + +<p>“Put your van back a bit!” says the tall +policeman austerely.</p> + +<p>The urchin grasps the horses’ heads, brings +them forward a bit, thrusts them back, slipping +and stumbling with their heads in the air, +and having made at least a foot more space, +pauses triumphantly and asks, “How’s that?”</p> + +<p>The only reply of the tall policeman, who is +a man of few words, is to bawl for “Pickford” +again. The cabman, in the most familiar +manner, also calls for “Pickford” and a string +of vehicles behind him also call on the name of +“Pickford” with profane fervour. “Pickford” +turns up at last in a heated condition, having +signally failed with the foreman, and grasping +his horses’ heads, backs them violently. The +commotion that ensues is tremendous, the +docile and intelligent animals behind, realising +that it is a case of <i>sauve qui peut</i>, going +where they can.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</span></p> + +<p>There is now room for the procession to +pass, and the cabman, having brooded over his +wrongs until he is word-perfect, tells the carman +his opinion of him as he goes by. It is a +long opinion, quite a character-study in fact +and, despite the haste of his fares, he walks his +horse so that the offender shall not miss a word +of it.</p> + +<p>“Bullen’s Wharf?” he inquires politely +of a bystander, turning a deaf ear to his +adversary’s reply.</p> + +<p>“Straight ahead,” says the man addressed, +“but you can’t get by!”</p> + +<p>“Ho! carn’t I?” says the cabman, with the +air of a man who has just done greater things +than that. “An’ w’y not?”</p> + +<p>“Cos the bridge is swung,” says the other +cheerfully.</p> + +<p>The cabman swings himself off his box, and +opening the door of his vehicle, breaks the +news to his fares. The three ladies lean forward +anxiously, and with one accord blame +him for it, one lady remarking darkly that +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</span>four-wheelers are all alike, and drawing +offensive comparisons between the present +vehicle and a hansom.</p> + +<p>“I carn’t ’elp the bridge being swung,” says +the cabman. “It ain’t no pleasure for me +standing here listening to you. ’Ow long’ll it +be, mate?”</p> + +<p>“I think they’re almost through now,” says +the other. “There’s just a few empty lighters +going into the docks—unless the <i>Evening Star</i> +is coming out,” he adds thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>Fortunately for all concerned the gallant +ship mentioned does not come out. The +bridge swings together again, and the cabman, +gathering up his reins, rattles briskly over the +stones to his destination.</p> + +<p>If the traffic in the streets is thick, that on +the river is almost as bad. Huge steamers +come slowly and cautiously up, moaning +plaintively with their steam-sirens whenever +they see anything about to run into them. At +times there appears to be no offing at all, and +even penny steamers—the most expert craft on +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</span>the river—give a low whistle and wonder +what is going to happen next. It is usual at +such moments for an old and leaky boat, +laden with small boys, who prefer this mode +of whiling away the dinner-hour to eating, +to stop in mid-stream to recover an oar. +Extraordinary feats of navigation are performed +by the crew before this is accomplished, +but they get it at last, and ignoring +the remarks hurled at them from the various +craft, settle down to work again and ram a +steam collier.</p> + +<p>Work on the wharves is in full swing, and +the cranes are busy lowering goods into the +gaping holds beneath. Sometimes the freight +drops from the slings on to the labourers, and +once a crane we knew—ordinarily a well-behaved, +reliable worker—took too much +aboard and plunged fifteen feet into the river +below. It took the driver with it, and when +his friends got him up, as a preliminary to +burying him, they found, to their astonishment, +that he was alive. He was never a man +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</span>to make much fuss; and after he had sat on +the jetty and been patted on the back, he +looked round at the place the crane had left, +and said that perhaps, as there didn’t seem to +be anything for him to do, he might have a +half-holiday for once. He added, as an extra +reason, that he felt a little bit shaken.</p> + +<p>It is not until Sunday arrives that Wapping +becomes quiet, and then the change is almost +oppressive in its thoroughness. The streets +are practically deserted in the morning, except +for a few men who have got up early by force +of habit rather than the promptings of virtue, +and a chance cat slinking furtively along in the +shadow of the warehouses, ready to dart beneath +a gateway at the first sign of a dog.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="The_Interruption"> + The Interruption + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> last of the funeral guests had +gone and Spencer Goddard, in decent +black, sat alone in his small, +well-furnished study. There was a queer +sense of freedom in the house since the coffin +had left it; the coffin which was now hidden +in its solitary grave beneath the yellow earth. +The air, which for the last three days had +seemed stale and contaminated, now smelt +fresh and clean. He went to the open window +and, looking into the fading light of the +autumn day, took a deep breath.</p> + +<p>He closed the window, and, stooping down, +put a match to the fire, and, dropping into +his easy chair, sat listening to the cheery +crackle of the wood. At the age of thirty-eight +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</span>he had turned over a fresh page. Life, +free and unencumbered, was before him. His +dead wife’s money was at last his, to spend +as he pleased instead of being doled out in +reluctant driblets.</p> + +<p>He turned at a step at the door and his face +assumed the appearance of gravity and sadness +it had worn for the last four days. The cook, +with the same air of decorous grief, entered +the room quietly and, crossing to the mantelpiece +placed upon it a photograph.</p> + +<p>“I thought you’d like to have it, sir,” she +said, in a low voice, “to remind you.”</p> + +<p>Goddard thanked her, and, rising, took it in +his hand and stood regarding it. He noticed +with satisfaction that his hand was absolutely +steady.</p> + +<p>“It is a very good likeness—till she was +taken ill,” continued the woman. “I never +saw anybody change so sudden.”</p> + +<p>“The nature of her disease, Hannah,” said +her master.</p> + +<p>The woman nodded, and, dabbing at her +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</span>eyes with her handkerchief, stood regarding +him.</p> + +<p>“Is there anything you want?” he inquired, +after a time.</p> + +<p>She shook her head. “I can’t believe she’s +gone,” she said, in a low voice. “Every now +and then I have a queer feeling that she’s still +here——”</p> + +<p>“It’s your nerves,” said her master +sharply.</p> + +<p>“——and wanting to tell me something.”</p> + +<p>By a great effort Goddard refrained from +looking at her.</p> + +<p>“Nerves,” he said again. “Perhaps you +ought to have a little holiday. It has been +a great strain upon you.”</p> + +<p>“You, too, sir,” said the woman respectfully. +“Waiting on her hand and foot as you have +done, I can’t think how you stood it. If you’d +only had a nurse——”</p> + +<p>“I preferred to do it myself, Hannah,” said +her master. “If I had had a nurse it would +have alarmed her.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</span></p> + +<p>The woman assented. “And they are always +peeking and prying into what doesn’t concern +them,” she added. “Always think they know +more than the doctors do.”</p> + +<p>Goddard turned a slow look upon her. The +tall, angular figure was standing in an attitude +of respectful attention; the cold slaty-brown +eyes were cast down, the sullen face +expressionless.</p> + +<p>“She couldn’t have had a better doctor,” he +said, looking at the fire again. “No man could +have done more for her.”</p> + +<p>“And nobody could have done more for her +than you did, sir,” was the reply. “There’s +few husbands that would have done what you +did.”</p> + +<p>Goddard stiffened in his chair. “That will +do, Hannah,” he said curtly.</p> + +<p>“Or done it so well,” said the woman, with +measured slowness.</p> + +<p>With a strange, sinking sensation, her master +paused to regain his control. Then he turned +and eyed her steadily. “Thank you,” he said, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</span>slowly; “you mean well, but at present I +cannot discuss it.”</p> + +<p>For some time after the door had closed +behind her he sat in deep thought. The feeling +of well-being of a few minutes before had +vanished, leaving in its place an apprehension +which he refused to consider, but which would +not be allayed. He thought over his actions +of the last few weeks, carefully, and could +remember no flaw. His wife’s illness, the +doctor’s diagnosis, his own solicitous care, +were all in keeping with the ordinary. He +tried to remember the woman’s exact words—her +manner. Something had shown him +Fear. What?</p> + +<p>He could have laughed at his fears next +morning. The dining-room was full of sunshine +and the fragrance of coffee and bacon +was in the air. Better still, a worried and +commonplace Hannah. Worried over two +eggs with false birth-certificates, over the +vendor of which she became almost lyrical.</p> + +<p>“The bacon is excellent,” said her smiling +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</span>master, “so is the coffee; but your coffee +always is.”</p> + +<p>Hannah smiled in return, and, taking fresh +eggs from a rosy-cheeked maid, put them +before him.</p> + +<p>A pipe, followed by a brisk walk, cheered +him still further. He came home glowing +with exercise and again possessed with that +sense of freedom and freshness. He went +into the garden—now his own—and planned +alterations.</p> + +<p>After lunch he went over the house. The +windows of his wife’s bedroom were open +and the room neat and airy. His glance +wandered from the made-up bed to the +brightly-polished furniture. Then he went to +the dressing-table and opened the drawers, +searching each in turn. With the exception +of a few odds and ends they were empty. +He went out on to the landing and called +for Hannah.</p> + +<p>“Do you know whether your mistress locked +up any of her things?” he inquired.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</span></p> + +<p>“What things?” said the woman.</p> + +<p>“Well, her jewellery mostly.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” Hannah smiled. “She gave it all to +me,” she said, quietly.</p> + +<p>Goddard checked an exclamation. His +heart was beating nervously, but he spoke +sternly.</p> + +<p>“When?”</p> + +<p>“Just before she died—of gastro-enteritis,” +said the woman.</p> + +<p>There was a long silence. He turned and +with great care mechanically closed the +drawers of the dressing-table. The tilted glass +showed him the pallor of his face, and he +spoke without turning round.</p> + +<p>“That is all right, then,” he said, huskily. +“I only wanted to know what had become +of it. I thought, perhaps, Milly——”</p> + +<p>Hannah shook her head. “Milly’s all +right,” she said, with a strange smile. “She’s +as honest as we are. Is there anything more +you want, sir?”</p> + +<p>She closed the door behind her with the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</span>quietness of the well-trained servant; Goddard, +steadying himself with his hand on the +rail of the bed, stood looking into the future.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>The days passed monotonously, as they pass +with a man in prison. Gone was the sense of +freedom and the idea of a wider life. Instead +of a cell, a house with ten rooms—but Hannah, +the jailer guarding each one. Respectful +and attentive, the model servant, he saw in +every word a threat against his liberty—his +life. In the sullen face and cold eyes he saw +her knowledge of power; in her solicitude for +his comfort and approval, a sardonic jest. It +was the master playing at being the servant. +The years of unwilling servitude were over, +but she felt her way carefully with infinite +zest in the game. Warped and bitter, with a +cleverness which had never before had scope, +she had entered into her kingdom. She took +it little by little, savouring every morsel.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</span></p> + +<p>“I hope I’ve done right, sir,” she said one +morning. “I have given Milly notice.”</p> + +<p>Goddard looked up from his paper. “Isn’t +she satisfactory?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>“Not to my thinking, sir,” said the woman. +“And she says she is coming to see you about +it. I told her that would be no good.”</p> + +<p>“I had better see her and hear what she has +to say,” said her master.</p> + +<p>“Of course, if you wish to,” said Hannah; +“only, after giving her notice, if she doesn’t go +I shall. I should be sorry to go—I’ve been +very comfortable here—but it’s either her or +me.”</p> + +<p>“I should be sorry to lose you,” said +Goddard in a hopeless voice.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir,” said Hannah. “I’m sure +I’ve tried to do my best. I’ve been with you +some time now—and I know all your little +ways. I expect I understand you better than +anybody else would. I do all I can to make +you comfortable.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, I will leave it to you,” said +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</span>Goddard in a voice which strove to be brisk +and commanding. “You have my permission +to dismiss her.”</p> + +<p>“There’s another thing I wanted to see you +about,” said Hannah; “my wages. I was +going to ask for a rise, seeing that I’m really +housekeeper here now.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” said her master, considering, +“that only seems fair. Let me see—what are +you getting?”</p> + +<p>“Thirty-six.”</p> + +<p>Goddard reflected for a moment and then +turned with a benevolent smile. “Very well,” +he said, cordially, “I’ll make it forty-two. +That’s ten shillings a month more.”</p> + +<p>“I was thinking of a hundred,” said Hannah +dryly.</p> + +<p>The significance of the demand appalled +him. “Rather a big jump,” he said at last. +“I really don’t know that I——”</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t matter,” said Hannah. “I +thought I was worth it—to you—that’s all. +You know best. Some people might think +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</span>I was worth <i>two</i> hundred. That’s a bigger +jump, but after all a big jump is better +than——”</p> + +<p>She broke off and tittered. Goddard eyed +her.</p> + +<p>“——than a big drop,” she concluded.</p> + +<p>Her master’s face set. The lips almost +disappeared and something came into +the pale eyes that was revolting. Still +eyeing her, he rose and approached her. +She stood her ground and met him eye +to eye.</p> + +<p>“You are jocular,” he said at last.</p> + +<p>“Short life and a merry one,” said the +woman.</p> + +<p>“Mine or yours?”</p> + +<p>“Both, perhaps,” was the reply.</p> + +<p>“If—if I give you a hundred,” said Goddard, +moistening his lips, “that ought to make +your life merrier, at any rate.”</p> + +<p>Hannah nodded. “Merry and long, perhaps,” +she said slowly. “I’m careful, you +know—very careful.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</span></p> + +<p>“I am sure you are,” said Goddard, his +face relaxing.</p> + +<p>“Careful what I eat and drink, I mean,” +said the woman, eyeing him steadily.</p> + +<p>“That is wise,” he said slowly. “I am +myself—that is why I am paying a good cook +a large salary. But don’t overdo things, +Hannah; don’t kill the goose that lays the +golden eggs.”</p> + +<p>“I am not likely to do that,” she said +coldly. “Live and let live; that is my +motto. Some people have different ones. +But I’m careful; nobody won’t catch me +napping. I’ve left a letter with my sister, +in case.”</p> + +<p>Goddard turned slowly and in a casual +fashion put the flowers straight in a bowl on +the table, and, wandering to the window, +looked out. His face was white again and his +hands trembled.</p> + +<p>“To be opened after my death,” continued +Hannah. “I don’t believe in doctors—not +after what I’ve seen of them—I don’t think +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</span>they know enough; so if I die I shall be examined. +I’ve given good reasons.”</p> + +<p>“And suppose,” said Goddard, coming from +the window, “suppose she is curious, and opens +it before you die?”</p> + +<p>“We must chance that,” said Hannah, +shrugging her shoulders; “but I don’t think +she will. I sealed it up with sealing-wax, +with a mark on it.”</p> + +<p>“She might open it and say nothing about +it,” persisted her master.</p> + +<p>An unwholesome grin spread slowly over +Hannah’s features. “I should know it soon +enough,” she declared boisterously, “and so +would other people. Lord there would be an +upset! Chidham would have something to +talk about for once. We should be in the +papers—both of us.”</p> + +<p>Goddard forced a smile. “Dear me!” he +said gently. “Your pen seems to be a dangerous +weapon, Hannah, but I hope that the +need to open it will not happen for another +fifty years. You look well and strong.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</span></p> + +<p>The woman nodded. “I don’t take up my +troubles before they come,” she said, with a +satisfied air; “but there’s no harm in trying +to prevent them coming. Prevention is better +than cure.”</p> + +<p>“Exactly,” said her master; “and, by +the way, there’s no need for this little +financial arrangement to be known by +anybody else. I might become unpopular +with my neighbours for setting a bad +example. Of course, I am giving you +this sum because I really think you are +worth it.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure you do,” said Hannah. “I’m not +sure I ain’t worth more, but this’ll do to go on +with. I shall get a girl for less than we are +paying Milly, and that’ll be another little bit +extra for me.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” said Goddard, and smiled +again.</p> + +<p>“Come to think of it,” said Hannah pausing +at the door, “I ain’t sure I shall get anybody +else; then there’ll be more than ever for me. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</span>If I do the work I might as well have the +money.”</p> + +<p>Her master nodded, and, left to himself, sat +down to think out a position which was as +intolerable as it was dangerous. At a great +risk he had escaped from the dominion of +one woman only to fall, bound and helpless, +into the hands of another. However vague +and unconvincing the suspicions of Hannah +might be, they would be sufficient. Evidence +could be unearthed. Cold with fear one +moment, and hot with fury the next, he sought +in vain for some avenue of escape. It was his +brain against that of a cunning, illiterate fool; +a fool whose malicious stupidity only added to +his danger. And she drank. With largely +increased wages she would drink more and his +very life might depend upon a hiccuped boast. +It was clear that she was enjoying her supremacy; +later on her vanity would urge her to +display it before others. He might have to +obey the crack of her whip before witnesses, +and that would cut off all possibility of escape.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</span></p> + +<p>He sat with his head in his hands. There +must be a way out and he must find it. Soon. +He must find it before gossip began; before +the changed position of master and servant +lent colour to her story when that story became +known. Shaking with fury, he thought of her +lean, ugly throat and the joy of choking her +life out with his fingers. He started suddenly, +and took a quick breath. No, not fingers—a +rope.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>Bright and cheerful outside and with his +friends, in the house he was quiet and submissive. +Milly had gone, and, if the service +was poorer and the rooms neglected, he gave +no sign. If a bell remained unanswered he +made no complaint, and to studied insolence +turned the other cheek of politeness. When +at this tribute to her power the woman smiled, +he smiled in return. A smile which, for all its +disarming softness, left her vaguely uneasy.</p> + +<p>“I’m not afraid of you,” she said once, with +a menacing air.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</span></p> + +<p>“I hope not,” said Goddard in a slightly +surprised voice.</p> + +<p>“Some people might be, but I’m not,” she +declared. “If anything happened to me——”</p> + +<p>“Nothing could happen to such a careful +woman as you are,” he said, smiling again. +“You ought to live to ninety—with luck.”</p> + +<p>It was clear to him that the situation was +getting on his nerves. Unremembered but +terrible dreams haunted his sleep. Dreams +in which some great, inevitable disaster was +always pressing upon him, although he could +never discover what it was. Each morning +he awoke unrefreshed to face another day of +torment. He could not meet the woman’s +eyes for fear of revealing the threat that was +in his own.</p> + +<p>Delay was dangerous and foolish. He had +thought out every move in that contest of wits +which was to remove the shadow of the rope +from his own neck and place it about that of +the woman. There was a little risk, but the +stake was a big one. He had but to set the ball +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</span>rolling and others would keep it on its course. +It was time to act.</p> + +<p>He came in a little jaded from his afternoon +walk, and left his tea untouched. He ate but +little dinner, and, sitting hunched up over the +fire, told the woman that he had taken a slight +chill. Her concern, he felt grimly, might +have been greater if she had known the cause.</p> + +<p>He was no better next day, and after lunch +called in to consult his doctor. He left with a +clean bill of health except for a slight digestive +derangement, the remedy for which he took +away with him in a bottle. For two days he +swallowed one tablespoonful three times a day +in water, without result, then he took to his +bed.</p> + +<p>“A day or two in bed won’t hurt you,” said +the doctor. “Show me that tongue of yours +again.”</p> + +<p>“But what is the matter with me, Roberts?” +inquired the patient.</p> + +<p>The doctor pondered. “Nothing to trouble +about—nerves a bit wrong—digestion a little +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</span>bit impaired. You’ll be all right in a day or +two.”</p> + +<p>Goddard nodded. So far, so good; Roberts +had not outlived his usefulness. He smiled +grimly after the doctor had left at the surprise +he was preparing for him. A little rough +on Roberts and his professional reputation, +perhaps, but these things could not be +avoided.</p> + +<p>He lay back and visualized the programme. +A day or two longer, getting gradually worse, +then a little sickness. After that a nervous, +somewhat shamefaced patient hinting at +things. His food had a queer taste—he felt +worse after taking it; he knew it was ridiculous, +still—there was some of his beef-tea he +had put aside, perhaps the doctor would like +to examine it? and the medicine? Secretions, +too; perhaps he would like to see those?</p> + +<p>Propped on his elbow, he stared fixedly at +the wall. There would be a trace—a faint +trace—of arsenic in the secretions. There +would be more than a trace in the other things. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</span>An attempt to poison him would be clearly +indicated, and—his wife’s symptoms had resembled +his own—let Hannah get out of the +web he was spinning if she could. As for the +letter she had threatened him with, let her +produce it; it could only recoil upon herself. +Fifty letters could not save her from the doom +he was preparing for her. It was her life or +his, and he would show no mercy. For three +days he doctored himself with sedulous care, +watching himself anxiously the while. His +nerve was going and he knew it. Before him +was the strain of the discovery, the arrest, and +the trial. The gruesome business of his wife’s +death. A long business. He would wait no +longer, and he would open the proceedings +with dramatic suddenness.</p> + +<p>It was between nine and ten o’clock at night +when he rang his bell, and it was not until he +had rung four times that he heard the heavy +steps of Hannah mounting the stairs.</p> + +<p>“What d’you want?” she demanded, standing +in the doorway.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</span></p> + +<p>“I’m very ill,” he said, gasping. “Run for +the doctor. Quick!”</p> + +<p>The woman stared at him in genuine amazement. +“What, at this time o’ night?” she +exclaimed. “Not likely.”</p> + +<p>“I’m dying!” said Goddard in a broken +voice.</p> + +<p>“Not you,” she said, roughly. “You’ll be +better in the morning.”</p> + +<p>“I’m dying,” he repeated. “Go—for—the—doctor.”</p> + +<p>The woman hesitated. The rain beat in +heavy squalls against the window, and the +doctor’s house was a mile distant on the lonely +road. She glanced at the figure on the bed.</p> + +<p>“I should catch my death o’ cold,” she +grumbled.</p> + +<p>She stood sullenly regarding him. He certainly +looked very ill, and his death would by +no means benefit her. She listened, scowling, +to the wind and the rain.</p> + +<p>“All right,” she said at last, and went noisily +from the room.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</span></p> + +<p>His face set in a mirthless smile, he heard +her bustling about below. The front-door +slammed violently and he was alone.</p> + +<p>He waited for a few moments and then, +getting out of bed, put on his dressing-gown +and set about his preparations. With a steady +hand he added a little white powder to the +remains of his beef-tea and to the contents of +his bottle of medicine. He stood listening a +moment at some faint sound from below, and, +having satisfied himself, lit a candle and made +his way to Hannah’s room. For a space he +stood irresolute, looking about him. Then he +opened one of the drawers and, placing the +broken packet of powder under a pile of +clothing at the back, made his way back to bed.</p> + +<p>He was disturbed to find that he was trembling +with excitement and nervousness. He +longed for tobacco, but that was impossible. +To reassure himself he began to rehearse his +conversation with the doctor, and again he +thought over every possible complication. +The scene with the woman would be terrible; +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</span>he would have to be too ill to take any part +in it. The less he said the better. Others +would do all that was necessary.</p> + +<p>He lay for a long time listening to the sound +of the wind and the rain. Inside, the house +seemed unusually quiet, and with an odd sensation +he suddenly realised that it was the first +time he had been alone in it since his wife’s +death. He remembered that she would have +to be disturbed. The thought was unwelcome. +He did not want her to be disturbed. Let the +dead sleep.</p> + +<p>He sat up in bed and drew his watch from +beneath the pillow. Hannah ought to have +been back before; in any case she could not +be long now. At any moment he might hear +her key in the lock. He lay down again and +reminded himself that things were shaping +well. He had shaped them, and some of the +satisfaction of the artist was his.</p> + +<p>The silence was oppressive. The house +seemed to be listening, waiting. He looked at +his watch again and wondered, with a curse, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</span>what had happened to the woman. It was +clear that the doctor must be out, but that was +no reason for her delay. It was close on midnight, +and the atmosphere of the house seemed +in some strange fashion to be brooding and +hostile.</p> + +<p>In a lull in the wind he thought he heard +footsteps outside, and his face cleared as he +sat up listening for the sound of the key in the +door below. In another moment the woman +would be in the house and the fears engendered +by a disordered fancy would have flown. +The sound of the steps had ceased, but he could +hear no sound of entrance. Until all hope had +gone, he sat listening. He was certain he had +heard footsteps. Whose?</p> + +<p>Trembling and haggard he sat waiting, +assailed by a crowd of murmuring fears. One +whispered that he had failed and would have +to pay the penalty of failing; that he had gambled +with Death and lost.</p> + +<p>By a strong effort he fought down these +fancies and, closing his eyes, tried to compose +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</span>himself to rest. It was evident now that the +doctor was out and that Hannah was waiting +to return with him in his car. He was frightening +himself for nothing. At any moment he +might hear the sound of their arrival.</p> + +<p>He heard something else, and, sitting up, +suddenly, tried to think what it was and what +had caused it. It was a very faint sound—stealthy. +Holding his breath, he waited for it +to be repeated. He heard it again, the mere +ghost of a sound—a whisper of a sound, but +significant as most whispers are.</p> + +<p>He wiped his brow with his sleeve and told +himself firmly that it was nerves, and nothing +but nerves; but, against his will, he still +listened. He fancied now that the sound came +from his wife’s room, the other side of the +landing. It increased in loudness and became +more insistent, but with his eyes fixed on the +door of his room he still kept himself in hand, +and tried to listen instead to the wind and the +rain.</p> + +<p>For a time he heard nothing but that. Then +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</span>there came a scraping, scurrying noise from +his wife’s room, and a sudden, terrific crash.</p> + +<p>With a loud scream his nerve broke, and +springing from the bed he sped downstairs +and, flinging open the front-door, dashed into +the night. The door, caught by the wind, +slammed behind him.</p> + +<p>With his hand holding the garden gate +open, ready for further flight, he stood sobbing +for breath. His bare feet were bruised and the +rain was very cold, but he took no heed. Then +he ran a little way along the road and stood +for some time, hoping and listening.</p> + +<p>He came back slowly. The wind was bitter +and he was soaked to the skin. The garden +was black and forbidding, and unspeakable +horror might be lurking in the bushes. He +went up the road again, trembling with cold. +Then, in desperation, he passed through the +terrors of the garden to the house, only to find +the door closed. The porch gave a little protection +from the icy rain, but none from the +wind, and, shaking in every limb, he leaned +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</span>in abject misery against the door. He pulled +himself together after a time and stumbled +round to the back-door. Locked! And all the +lower windows were shuttered. He made his +way back to the porch, and, crouching there +in hopeless misery, waited for the woman to +return.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>He had a dim memory when he awoke of +somebody questioning him, and then of being +half-pushed, half-carried upstairs to bed. +There was something wrong with his head and +his chest and he was trembling violently, and +very cold. Somebody was speaking.</p> + +<p>“You must have taken leave of your senses,” +said the voice of Hannah. “I thought you +were dead.”</p> + +<p>He forced his eyes to open. “Doctor,” he +muttered, “doctor.”</p> + +<p>“Out on a bad case,” said Hannah. “I +waited till I was tired of waiting, and then +came along. Good thing for you I did. He’ll +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</span>be round first thing this morning. He ought +to be here now.”</p> + +<p>She bustled about, tidying up the room, his +leaden eyes following her as she collected the +beef-tea and other things on a tray and carried +them out.</p> + +<p>“Nice thing I did yesterday,” she remarked, +as she came back. “Left the missus’s bed-room +window open. When I opened the door this +morning I found that beautiful Chippendale +glass of hers had blown off the table and +smashed to pieces. Did you hear it?”</p> + +<p>Goddard made no reply. In a confused +fashion he was trying to think. Accident or +not, the fall of the glass had served its purpose. +Were there such things as accidents? Or was +Life a puzzle—a puzzle into which every +piece was made to fit? Fear and the wind +... no: conscience and the wind ... had +saved the woman. He must get the powder +back from her drawer ... before she discovered +it and denounced him. The medicine +... he must remember not to take it....</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</span></p> + +<p>He was very ill, seriously ill. He must +have taken a chill owing to that panic +flight into the garden. Why didn’t the +doctor come? He had come ... at last +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</span>... he was doing something to his chest ... +it was cold.</p> + +<p>Again ... the doctor ... there was something +he wanted to tell him.... Hannah and +a powder ... what was it?</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp80" id="i_p270" style="max-width: 28em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_p270.png" alt=""> + <figcaption> + THE LAST TIME HE LOOKED AT HANNAH WAS THE FIRST TIME FOR + MONTHS HE HAD LOOKED AT HER WITHOUT LOATHING AND HATRED. + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>Later on he remembered, together with +other things that he had hoped to forget. He +lay watching an endless procession of memories, +broken at times by a glance at the doctor, +the nurse, and Hannah, who were all standing +near the bed regarding him. They had been +there a long time, and they were all very quiet. +The last time he looked at Hannah was the +first time for months that he had looked at her +without loathing and hatred. Then he knew +that he was dying.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="Bed_Cases"> + Bed Cases + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> night-watchman was ill at ease, +and, all ordinary positions failing to +give relief, adopted several entirely +out of keeping with his age and figure. A +voice from the next wharf which wanted to +know whether he was going on to the stage, +and, if so, whether he was going to wear tights, +brought him at once to a more becoming +position. His voice was broken with pain, but +the masterly fashion in which he dealt with his +tormentor’s ancestors and the future behaviour +of his descendants left nothing to be desired. +Uncouth noises, lacking in variety, were the +only retort.</p> + +<p>“It took me sudden yesterday morning, just +arter brekfuss,” said the night-watchman. +“The woman—if you can call ’er a woman—next +door but one ’ad given my missis best part +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</span>of a tin of salmon. I wondered at the time +why she gave it away—now I know. I ate it +all, except one mouthful wot my missis threw +in the fireplace, and in less than a couple of +hours arterwards I thought my last hour ’ad +come.”</p> + +<p>He clasped his hands at the waist-line and +rocked to and fro. Faint moans and indignant +grunts attested to his suffering.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been taking things for it ever since and +nothing seems to do it any good,” he resumed, +in an interval. “Fust of all I tried a couple o’ +pints to see wot that ’ud do; and the barman +told me to go and die outside. He said wot I +ought to ’ave ’ad was rum, so I ’ad a quartern. +Arter that ’e <i>put</i> me outside—me being too ill +to stop ’im—and an old gentleman wot was +passing took me into a chemist’s shop and +stood treat. I don’t know wot it was the +chemist gave me, but a’most direckly arterwards +there was a little crowd round the door +peeping in, and behaving theirselves as if I +was a Punch and Judy show. Some of ’em +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</span>follered me ’ome, and it was all my missis +could do to stop ’em coming inside and helping +’er to put me to bed.”</p> + +<p>He rose and, stifling a moan, took a few +paces up and down the jetty.</p> + +<p>“Seems to be passing off a bit for the time,” +he said, resuming his seat. “It sort o’ comes +and goes, but it comes longer than it goes. It’s +funny ’ow soft and kind-’earted illness makes +you. Three times yesterday arternoon I called +my missis upstairs to tell ’er that I couldn’t +pass away without letting ’er know I’d forgiven +her everything. She on’y came the fust +time, but that wasn’t my fault. I called ’er +loud enough.</p> + +<p>“It seems to me to be the same complaint +that Ginger Dick had a year or two ago—on’y +worse—and he made a great deal more fuss +about it, being a free-spoken man and not +minding much wot he said about things he +didn’t like.</p> + +<p>“It came on in a public-’ouse in the Commercial +Road, and it was so sudden, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</span>Ginger made such a funny noise, that Sam and +Peter Russet thought at fust he ’ad swallered +’is pipe.</p> + +<p>“‘Wot’s the matter?’ ses the landlord, leaning +over the bar.</p> + +<p>“‘He’s swallered ’is pipe,’ ses Sam.</p> + +<p>“‘You’re—a—liar,’ ses Ginger, groaning.</p> + +<p>“‘Wot is it, then?’ ses the landlord.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</span></p> + +<p>“Ginger shook his ’ead. ‘I don’t know,’ +he ses in a weak voice. ‘I think it’s the +beer.’</p> + +<p>“‘Outside,’ ses the landlord. ‘D’ye ’ear me? +<i>Outside.</i>’</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp80" id="i_p275" style="max-width: 28em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_p275.png" alt=""> + <figcaption> + “OUTSIDE,” SES THE LANDLORD—“D’YE ’EAR ME?—OUTSIDE.” + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>“Ginger went out with Sam propping ’im +up on one side and Peter the other and the +landlord shoving ’im behind. His groans was +’art-rending and the way he talked against +beer made Sam and Peter blush for shame. +They stood on the pavement for a little while +and then they helped ’im on to a tram-car, +and two minutes arterwards the conductor and +five passengers helped ’im off agin.</p> + +<p>“‘Wot’s to be done now?’ ses Sam.</p> + +<p>“‘Shove ’im in a puddle and leave ’im,’ ses +Peter, very savage.</p> + +<p>“‘I can’t ’elp it—I feel as if I’d swallered +fireworks,’ ses Ginger.</p> + +<p>“‘Little touch o’ stummick-ache,’ ses Sam.</p> + +<p>“‘And they keeps going off,’ ses Ginger. +‘Oh! Oh, my!’</p> + +<p>“‘’Ave you got any pain?’ ses Peter. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</span>‘That’ll do! That’ll do! Why can’t you give +a civil answer to a civil question?’</p> + +<p>“He walked on, leaving Ginger ’anging on +to Sam and talking at the top of his voice. +O’ course a crowd got round and told Sam +wot to do, until Ginger left off being ill for a +little while to attend to a chap as ’ad told Sam +to stand ’im on his ’ead. If it ’adn’t ha’ been +for a cab wot ’ad stopped to see wot the row +was about Ginger would most likely ’ave been +given some medicine.</p> + +<p>“They walked along for some time with +their ’eads down as though they expected to see +a doctor sitting on the pavement waiting for +them, and then Sam turned to Peter and asked +’im where they was going.</p> + +<p>“‘There’s one in the Whitechapel Road,’ ses +Peter.</p> + +<p>“‘There must be one nearer than that,’ ses +Sam. ‘Let’s go in somewhere and ask.’</p> + +<p>“They ’appened to be passing the Turk’s +Head as ’e spoke, and, not wanting everybody +to know their business, they went into the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</span>private bar instead of the usual, and ’ad a +couple o’ glasses o’ bitter.</p> + +<p>“There was on’y one other chap there, a tall +young man in a black tail-coat, a bowler ’at, +and a collar and necktie. He ’ad a large nose +and a pair of very sharp light eyes, and he sat +there as if the place belonged to ’im, stroking +’is little sandy moustache and tapping ’is boots +with a cane. Sam and Peter could see at once +that he never went anywhere except in private +bars, and for the fust minute or two they was +talking a’most in whispers. They must ha’ +talked a bit louder arter a bit, ’cos all of a +sudden, the gentleman emptied ’is glass and +spoke to ’em.</p> + +<p>“‘What’s that you want?’ he ses. ‘A +doctor?’</p> + +<p>“‘Yes,’ ses Sam, and the gentleman sat there +with a smile on ’is face while Peter and Sam +described Ginger’s illness and repeated some +of ’is remarks about it.</p> + +<p>“‘Funny you should tell me,’ ses the gentleman. +‘Very funny.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</span></p> + +<p>“Sam looked at ’im, and waited.</p> + +<p>“‘Cos I’m a doctor myself,’ ses the gentleman. +‘Dr. Brown.’</p> + +<p>“‘Wot a bit o’ luck!’ ses Peter. ‘We thought +we’d got to walk no end of a way.’</p> + +<p>“The doctor shook his ’ead.</p> + +<p>“‘I’m afraid I’m no good to you,’ he ses.</p> + +<p>“‘Why not?’ ses Sam, staring.</p> + +<p>“‘Too expensive,’ ses the doctor. ‘You see, +I’m a West-end man, and we’re not allowed to +see a patient under a pound a visit.’</p> + +<p>“He shook his ’ead and sat smiling at them +sad-like and listening to Sam, wot was sitting +perched up on a stool making a noise like +bronchitis, with surprise.</p> + +<p>“‘I on’y come this way for a stroll,’ +he ses, ‘’cos I like to see ships and sailormen.’</p> + +<p>“‘A—pound—a—visit?’ ses Peter. ‘D’ye +’ear that, Sam?’</p> + +<p>“Sam looked at ’im, and arter a time he +managed to nod.</p> + +<p>“‘P’r’aps it does seem a lot,’ ses the doctor, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</span>‘but it comes cheaper in the end to have a good +man.’</p> + +<p>“‘Not if the chap dies,’ ses Peter.</p> + +<p>“‘My patients don’t die,’ ses the doctor. +‘It’s only cheap doctors wot loses their +patients.’</p> + +<p>“He took up ’is glass and then, finding as +there was nothing in it, put it down agin. Sam +gave a little cough, and arter waiting a +moment asked whether ’e would do ’im the +pleasure of having a drink with ’im.</p> + +<p>“‘Well, I’ve ’ad enough really,’ ses the +doctor. ‘Still, I don’t mind ’aving a glass of +port with you.’</p> + +<p>“Peter said he’d ’ave a port, too, afore Sam +could stop ’im, and him and the doctor sat and +drank Sam’s ’ealth, and Peter said ’ow well he +was looking and wot a fine rosy colour he’d +got. Then Sam told the doctor all about +Ginger’s illness agin, and, in a off-hand sort +o’ way, asked ’im wot Ginger could take for it.</p> + +<p>“‘I couldn’t say without seeing ’im,’ ses the +doctor; ‘it ain’t allowed.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</span></p> + +<p>“‘’Ow much would it be to see ’im?’ ses +Sam.</p> + +<p>“‘He ain’t much to look at,’ ses Peter, looking +at him ’opeful-like.</p> + +<p>“The doctor laughed, and then shook his +’ead at ’imself. ‘Well, I don’t know,’ he says, +‘but if you’ll keep it a dead secret and not let +anybody know that I said—I mean, that I’m +a doctor—I don’t mind seein’ ’im for ’arf a +dollar a visit.’</p> + +<p>“‘Ginger couldn’t say anything agin that,’ +ses Peter.</p> + +<p>“‘Couldn’t he?’ ses Sam. ‘’Owever, he’ll +’ave to put up with it. It’s your turn, Peter; +mine’s a port.’</p> + +<p>“‘I suppose I’d better ’ave the same,’ says +the doctor. ‘I don’t believe in mixing. Tell +’im to give us the special this time. It’s better.’</p> + +<p>“Peter told ’im, and the landlord ’ad to tell +’im three times ’ow much it was afore he +understood. He seemed ’arf dazed, and the +noise Sam made smacking ’is lips over his wine +nearly drove ’im crazy. The doctor got up as +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</span>soon as he ’ad finished ’is glass, and they all +went out into the street; Sam and Peter wondering +what Ginger would say when ’e saw the +doctor and what ’e would do when he ’eard the +price. They went upstairs very quiet, as the +doctor said he didn’t want anybody to see ’im, +and the fust thing they saw when they got into +the room was Ginger laying face downwards +on the bed with ’is arms and legs spread out, +groaning.</p> + +<p>“‘Wot ’ave you been all this time for?’ he +ses, as soon as he ’eard them. ‘You’ve been +gone long enough to find fifty doctors.’</p> + +<p>“‘This is a good ’un, Ginger,’ ses Sam, very +solemn. ‘One o’ the best.’</p> + +<p>“‘Charges as much as twenty ordinary +doctors,’ ses Peter.</p> + +<p>“‘<i>Wot!</i>’ ses Ginger, turning over with surprise +and temper.</p> + +<p>“The doctor smiled and, arter fust putting +the chair by the side of the bed and sitting +down on it, put it back very careful and sat +down on the bed instead.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</span></p> + +<p>“‘Let’s have a look at your tongue,’ he ses.</p> + +<p>“Ginger put it out, and then put it in agin +to tell Sam that when ’e wanted to ’ear his +remarks about it he’d let ’im know.</p> + +<p>“‘I’ve seen a worse tongue than that,’ ses +the doctor. ‘Once.’</p> + +<p>“‘Did ’e die?’ ses Ginger.</p> + +<p>“‘Never mind,’ ses the doctor.</p> + +<p>“‘But I do mind,’ ses Ginger, very sharp.</p> + +<p>“‘No,’ ses the doctor; ‘I was called in at the +last moment and, after sitting up with ’im all +night, pulled ’im through.’</p> + +<p>“‘I told you wot he was, Ginger,’ ses Peter +Russet in a whisper that you could have ’eard +downstairs.</p> + +<p>“The doctor took ’old of Ginger’s wrist; and +then Sam got into trouble agin for taking upon +himself to tell ’im that Ginger ’ad got a natural +dark skin. The doctor took out ’is watch and +they all ’eld their breath while he counted +Ginger’s pulse.</p> + +<p>“‘H’m!’ he ses, putting the watch back. +‘It’s a fortunate thing you met me when +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</span>you did. Now let’s have a look at your +chest.’</p> + +<p>“Ginger unbuttoned ’is shirt, and the doctor, +arter a good look at the ship wot was tattoed +there, laid his ’ead on it amidships and +listened.</p> + +<p>“‘Say ninety-nine,’ he ses, ’and go on saying +it.’</p> + +<p>“‘Ninety-nine,’ ses Ginger, ‘ninety-nine, +ninety-nine, ninety—if I get up to you, Sam, +you’ll know it.’</p> + +<p>“‘You’d laugh yourself if you could on’y +see yourself, Ginger,’ ses Sam.</p> + +<p>“‘H’sh!’ ses the doctor; ‘he ’asn’t got much +to laugh about, poor chap.’</p> + +<p>“He moved his ’ead a bit and told Ginger +to keep quiet. Then he sat up and, buttoning +Ginger’s shirt acrost ’is chest very careful, +made a sign to Sam and Peter to keep quiet, +and sat thinking.</p> + +<p>“‘His ’art has moved,’ he ses at last; ‘it’s +about two inches out of place.’</p> + +<p>“‘Good-bye, mates,’ ses pore Ginger.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</span></p> + +<p>“‘There’s no need to say “good-bye,”’ ses +the doctor, very sharp. ‘If you’ll keep quite +quiet and do as I tell you, you’ll be all right +agin, in time.’</p> + +<p>“He sat thinking agin for a bit, and then ’e +sent Peter downstairs for a jug of ’ot water +and a tumbler, and while it was being fetched +he told Sam ’e was to be head-nurse and told +’im all he was to do.</p> + +<p>“‘You don’t want to pay two or three +pounds a week for a nurse, I suppose?’ he ses, +when Sam began to speak up for ’imself and +tell ’im ’ow much he enjoyed ’is sleep.</p> + +<p>“‘I shan’t be much trouble to ’im,’ ses +Ginger. ‘I can ’elp myself.’</p> + +<p>“‘You mustn’t move,’ ses the doctor. +‘You’ve got to lay quite still. Even if a fly +settled on your nose you mustn’t brush it off. +You don’t know ’ow bad you are. I want you +to keep per-feck-ly still. Till to-morrow, at +any rate.’</p> + +<p>“He took the ’ot water from Peter and, +after putting a little cold to it, put ’is arm +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</span>round Ginger’s neck and ’eld the tumbler to +’is lips. He ’ad four tumblers, one arter the +other, except for wot went down ’is chest, and +then ’e laid his ’ead back on the piller without +a word.</p> + +<p>“‘That’ll do ’im good,’ ses the doctor, +taking the ’arf-dollar wot Sam got out of +Ginger’s pocket. ‘I’ll look round agin in the +morning.’</p> + +<p>“‘And wot about medicine?’ ses Sam.</p> + +<p>“‘I’ll bring some with me,’ ses the doctor. +‘Good-bye.’</p> + +<p>“Sam and Peter went to bed early. One +thing there was nothing to do, and another +thing was Ginger wouldn’t let ’em do it. +Every time they moved ’e spoke about +it and said wot it did to ’is ’art, and +once, when Sam sneezed, ’e called ’im a +murderer.</p> + +<p>“It was about two o’clock in the morning +when Sam woke up from a dream of a beautiful +gal with yaller ’air and blue eyes wot kept +calling ’im by ’is Christian name. He woke +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</span>up with a smile on ’is lips and was just shutting +’is eyes to go on dreaming if ’e could, when he +’eard it again.</p> + +<p>“‘Sam! Sam! Sam! Sam!’</p> + +<p>“‘Hullo!’ he ses, sitting up in bed very +cross.</p> + +<p>“‘I thought you was dead,’ ses Ginger. +‘I’ve been calling you for ten minutes or more. +It’s made my ’eart worse.’</p> + +<p>“‘Wot d’ye want?’ ses Sam.</p> + +<p>“‘I’ve got a nasty itching feeling between +my shoulders,’ ses Ginger.</p> + +<p>“‘D’you mean to say—d’you mean to say +you woke me up just to tell me that?’ ses Sam, +’ardly able to speak for temper.</p> + +<p>“‘I woke you up to come and rub it,’ ses +Ginger. ‘And look sharp about it. You know +I mustn’t move.’</p> + +<p>“‘Hurry up, Sam!’ ses Peter Russet. ‘Wot +are you waiting for? I want to get to sleep +agin.’</p> + +<p>“Sam got out o’ bed at last and stood rubbing +Ginger’s back with ’is fist while Ginger +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</span>kept telling ’im ’ow not to do it, and reminding +’im wot a delikit skin he ’ad got.</p> + +<p>“He woke ’im up twice arter that. Once to +give ’im a drink of water, and once to ask him +’ow old he thought the doctor was. Wot with +being woke up and being afraid of being woke +up, Sam ’ardly got a wink of sleep.</p> + +<p>“Him and Peter Russet ’ad their brekfuss +at a coffee-shop next mornin’, and they had +’ardly got back afore the doctor come in. He +seemed pleased to ’ear that the pain was better, +but ’e told Ginger that he’d ’ave to keep as still +as he could for another day or two, and, arter +putting ’is face on ’is chest agin, said that the +’art ’ad stopped moving.</p> + +<p>“‘I mean moving out of place,’ he ses, as +Ginger sat up making a ’orrible noise and +threw ’is arms round his neck. ‘To-morrow I +’ope it will begin to move back.’</p> + +<p>“He fished a bottle o’ medicine out of ’is +pocket which he said would be another bob, +and, arter telling Sam to ’ave a lump o’ sugar +ready and pop it in quick, gave Ginger ’is fust +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</span>dose. Sam popped it in all right, but unfortunately +the medicine was so nasty that Ginger +was quicker than wot ’e was. Anybody might +ha’ thought he ’ad been killed the way ’e +carried on.</p> + +<p>“‘I’ll look in agin this evening,’ ses the +doctor as he put a ’arf-dollar and a bob o’ +Ginger’s in his pocket. ‘Don’t let ’im move +more than can be helped and—— Hullo!’</p> + +<p>“‘Wot’s the matter?’ ses Sam, taking ’is +finger out of ’is mouth and staring at ’im.</p> + +<p>“The doctor didn’t answer ’im. He lifted +up ’is eyelids instead and looked at his eyes, +and then he told Ginger to open ’is mouth, +and looked at ’is teeth. Then he looked at +Sam agin and felt all round ’is throat.</p> + +<p>“‘Wot is it?’ ses Sam, going pale.</p> + +<p>“‘It might be blood-poisoning,’ ses the +doctor, ‘but I can’t tell yet. His teeth are in +a very bad state.’</p> + +<p>“‘’Ow shall I know if it is?’ ses Sam.</p> + +<p>“‘You’ll know fast enough,’ ses the doctor, +shaking his ’ead. ‘P’r’aps you’d better ’ave a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</span>quiet time at ’ome to-day and keep your friend +company, and I’ll ’ave a look at you when I +come in this evening. Keep your spirits up +and be as cheerful as you can—for ’is sake.’</p> + +<p>“He left ’em all staring at each other; and +then Sam sat down on ’is bed and told Peter +Russet wot ought to be done to Ginger before +England would be fit for decent people to live +in. Peter said it was a wonder ’ow he could +think of it all, and Ginger said it was because +he ’ad got a nasty mind, and he told ’im wot +he’d do to ’im when ’e got well agin.</p> + +<p>“They spent most of the day quarrelling, +and on’y left off to find fault with Peter when +’e came in from enjoying ’imself to see ’ow +they was getting on. Sam was the worst, cos +Ginger was afraid of ’is ’eart if he got too +excited, but arter the doctor saw ’im in the +evening ’e was as quiet as Ginger was.</p> + +<p>“He said the poison ’ad got from Sam’s +finger down into ’is liver and an abscess was +forming there. He showed Sam where ’is +liver was—a thing he ’adn’t known afore—and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</span>found out where the abscess was with ’is +thumb-nail. He found it twice, and was just +going to find it agin when Sam pulled ’is shirt +down.</p> + +<p>“‘There’s no danger,’ he ses, ‘if you do just +wot I tell you. If you keep quiet like your +friend does, I’ll ’ave you up agin in a week. +If you move about or ’ave any violent shock +you’ll die afore you know where you are.’</p> + +<p>“He sat talking with ’em for a little while, +and, arter saying that Ginger’s ’art was not +going back as fast as he could wish, ’e took ’is +money and went off. Peter sat looking at ’em +till Sam asked ’im whether he thought they +was waxworks, and then, arter punching up +their pillers and tickling Ginger’s toes, playful-like, +’e picked up ’is cap and went out. He +spent most of ’is time out, and, when ’e did +come in, all he could talk about was the drinks +he’d been ’aving and ’ow glad ’e was that <i>his</i> +’art and liver was as sound as a bell.</p> + +<p>“‘I wonder you ain’t sick of bed,’ he ses, +arter Ginger had ’ad four days of it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</span></p> + +<p>“‘Sick of it!’ ses Ginger, choking. ‘Sick of +it! Why, you ugly, mutton-faced son of +a——’</p> + +<p>“‘Mind your ’art, Ginger,’ ses Sam.</p> + +<p>“‘I don’t believe in doctoring and laying in +bed,’ ses Peter, picking ’is teeth with a pin. +‘I believe that if you and Sam was to get up +and ’ave a little dance in your shirts it ’ud do +you all the good in the world. <i>I’d</i> ’um to you.’</p> + +<p>“Mind your ’art, Ginger,’ ses Sam, very +quick.</p> + +<p>“Ginger minded it, but they was both so +disagreeable that Peter got up and went out +agin and didn’t come back until the pubs was +closed. He woke ’em both up getting to bed, +but when they tried to wake <i>’im</i> up arterwards +they might as well ’ave tried to wake the dead. +All they did was to wake each other up and +then ’ave words about it.</p> + +<p>“They wouldn’t speak to Peter when ’e got +up next morning, and, arter giving ’em both +wot ’e called a bit of ’is mind, but wot other +people would ’ave called nasty langwidge, ’e +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</span>flung Ginger’s trowsis into Sam’s face and +went off for the day.</p> + +<p>“He didn’t come back until six-o’clock, but +when ’e did come back ’e was a reg’lar sunbeam, +smiling all over ’is face. He ’ad a look +at Ginger and smiled, and then ’e went +and smiled at Sam, with his ’and over ’is +mouth.</p> + +<p>“‘He’s drunk,’ ses Sam, trying to sneer.</p> + +<p>“‘Mad <i>and</i> drunk,’ ses Ginger.</p> + +<p>“Peter didn’t say anything. He went and +sat down on ’is bed and covered up ’is face +with his ’andkerchief and the bed shook as if +there was an earthquake sitting on it.</p> + +<p>“‘’Ow—’ow—’ow’s the ’art, Ginger?’ he +ses at last.</p> + +<p>“Ginger didn’t answer ’im.</p> + +<p>“‘And Sa—Sa—Sam’s pore old liver!’ ses +Peter, going off agin.</p> + +<p>“He wiped ’is eyes at last, and then ’e got +up and walked up and down the room fighting +for ’is breath and saying ’ow it hurt ’im. And +when he saw them two pore invalids laying in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</span>bed and looking at each other ’elpless, ’e sat +down and laughed till ’e cried.</p> + +<p>“‘It’s the d-d-doctor,’ he ses at last. ‘The—the +landlord told me.’</p> + +<p>“‘Told you wot?’ ses Ginger, grinding ’is +teeth.</p> + +<p>“‘He—he ain’t a doctor,’ ses Peter, wiping +’is eyes; ‘he’s a bookmaker’s clerk, and you +won’t see ’im agin ’cos the police are arter ’im.’</p> + +<p>“You might have ’eard a pin drop, as the +saying is, if it ’adn’t been for the choking +noise in Sam’s throat.</p> + +<p>“‘You ought to ’ave ’eard the landlord +laugh when I told ’im about you and Sam,’ ses +Peter. ‘It would ha’ done you good. ’Ow +much money ’as he ’ad off of you, Ginger?’</p> + +<p>“Ginger didn’t answer ’im. He got out of +bed very slow, and put on ’is boots and ’is +trowsis. Then ’e got up and locked the door.</p> + +<p>“‘Wot are you doing that for?’ ses Sam, +wot was sitting on the edge of ’is bed putting +on ’is socks.</p> + +<p>“‘I’m going to give Peter something else to +laugh about,’ ses Ginger.”</p> + + +<p class="center">THE END</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="transnote"> + <p class="ph2" id="TRANSCRIBERS_NOTES"> + TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + </p> + +<p>Typos and mismatched punctuation (particularly quotation marks +and apostrophes) corrected.</p> + +<p>Some illustrations have been moved from their original positions +to enhance readability. The page numbers in the <a href="#ILLUSTRATIONS">list of +illustrations</a> remain unchanged from the original.</p> + +<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been left unchanged.</p> +</div> +</div> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78235 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/78235-h/images/colophon.png b/78235-h/images/colophon.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ae4c16f --- /dev/null +++ b/78235-h/images/colophon.png diff --git a/78235-h/images/cover.jpg b/78235-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..52bb3be --- /dev/null +++ b/78235-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/78235-h/images/i_f006.png b/78235-h/images/i_f006.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e07b2fe --- /dev/null +++ b/78235-h/images/i_f006.png diff --git a/78235-h/images/i_p011.png b/78235-h/images/i_p011.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..32b0dc7 --- /dev/null +++ b/78235-h/images/i_p011.png diff --git a/78235-h/images/i_p027.png b/78235-h/images/i_p027.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0089a87 --- /dev/null +++ b/78235-h/images/i_p027.png diff --git a/78235-h/images/i_p035.png b/78235-h/images/i_p035.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e5bd5a1 --- /dev/null +++ b/78235-h/images/i_p035.png diff --git a/78235-h/images/i_p061.png b/78235-h/images/i_p061.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ec2bbc6 --- /dev/null +++ b/78235-h/images/i_p061.png diff --git a/78235-h/images/i_p097.png b/78235-h/images/i_p097.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b095865 --- /dev/null +++ b/78235-h/images/i_p097.png diff --git a/78235-h/images/i_p104.png b/78235-h/images/i_p104.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4308da1 --- /dev/null +++ b/78235-h/images/i_p104.png diff --git a/78235-h/images/i_p137.png b/78235-h/images/i_p137.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b04a2bb --- /dev/null +++ b/78235-h/images/i_p137.png diff --git a/78235-h/images/i_p143.png b/78235-h/images/i_p143.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..21d540d --- /dev/null +++ b/78235-h/images/i_p143.png diff --git a/78235-h/images/i_p175.png b/78235-h/images/i_p175.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1e2537f --- /dev/null +++ b/78235-h/images/i_p175.png diff --git a/78235-h/images/i_p181.png b/78235-h/images/i_p181.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..22fcc13 --- /dev/null +++ b/78235-h/images/i_p181.png diff --git a/78235-h/images/i_p192.png b/78235-h/images/i_p192.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9b12356 --- /dev/null +++ b/78235-h/images/i_p192.png diff --git a/78235-h/images/i_p215.png b/78235-h/images/i_p215.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dd6ee37 --- /dev/null +++ b/78235-h/images/i_p215.png diff --git a/78235-h/images/i_p233.png b/78235-h/images/i_p233.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6393eeb --- /dev/null +++ b/78235-h/images/i_p233.png diff --git a/78235-h/images/i_p270.png b/78235-h/images/i_p270.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..07ba454 --- /dev/null +++ b/78235-h/images/i_p270.png diff --git a/78235-h/images/i_p275.png b/78235-h/images/i_p275.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4330434 --- /dev/null +++ b/78235-h/images/i_p275.png diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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