Mysteries were painful to old Gemp. If any one had propounded a riddle,
and gone away without supplying the answer, he would have been terribly
aggrieved.
He was still frowning, and trying to get over the mystery of why James
Thickens should be at Miss Heathery's when that lady was out, and his
ideas were turning in the direction of the little maid, when a wholesome
stimulus was given to his thoughts by the arrival of the London coach,
the alighting of whose passengers he had hardly once missed seeing for
years.
Hurrying up to the front of the "George," he was just in time to see a
dashing-looking young fellow, who had just alighted from the box-seat,
stretching his legs, and beating his boots with a cane. He had been
giving orders for his little valise to be carried into the house, and
was staring about him in the half-light, when he became aware of the
fact that old Gemp was watching him curiously.
He involuntarily turned away; but seeming to master himself, he turned
back, and said sharply, "Where does Mr Hallam live?"
"Mr Hallam!" cried Gemp eagerly; "bank's closed hours ago."
"I didn't ask for the bank. Where is Mr Hallam's private residence?"
"Well," said Gemp, rubbing his hands and laughing unpleasantly, "that's
it--the `Little Manor' as he calls it; but it's a big place, isn't it?"
"Oh, he lives there, does he?" said the visitor, glancing curiously at
the ivy-covered house across the way.
"Not yet," said Gemp. "That's where he is going to live when--"
"He's married. I know. Now then, old Solomon, if you can answer a
plain question, where does he live now?"
"Mrs Pinet's house, yonder on the left, where the porch stands out, and
the flower-pots are in the window."
"Humph! hasn't moved, then. Let's see," muttered the visitor, "that's
where I took the flower-pot to throw at the dog. No: that's the house."
"Can I--?" began Gemp insidiously.
"No, thankye. Good evening," said the visitor. "You can tell 'em I've
come. Ta ta! Gossipping old fool!" he added to himself, as he walked
quickly down the street; while, after staring after him for a few
minutes, Gemp turned sharply on his heel, and made for Gorringe's--Mr
Gorringe being the principal tailor.
Mr Gorringe's day's work was done, consequently his legs were
uncrossed, and he was seated in a Christian-like manner--that is to say,
in a chair just inside his door, smoking his evening pipe, but still in
his shirtsleeves, and with an inch tape gracefully hanging over his neck
and shoulders.
"I say, neighbour," cried Gemp eagerly, "you bank with Dixons'."
Mr Gorringe's pipe fell from his hand, and broke into a dozen pieces
upon the floor.
"Is--is anything wrong?" he gasped; "and it's past banking hours."
"Yah! get out!" cried old Gemp, showing his yellow teeth. "You're
always thinking about your few pence in the bank. Why, I bank there,
and you don't see me going into fits. Yah! what a coward you are!"
"Then--then, there's nothing wrong?"
"Wrong? No."
"Hah!" ejaculated the tailor. "Mary, bring me another pipe."
"I only come in a friendly way," cried Gemp, "to put you on your guard."
"Then there is something wrong," cried the tailor, aghast.
"No, no, no. I want to give you a hint about Hallam."
"Hallam!"
"Ay! Has he ordered his wedding-suit of you?"
"No."
"Thought not," said Gemp, rubbing his hands. "I should be down upon him
if I were you. Threaten to withdraw my account, man. Dandy chap down
from London to-night to take his orders."
"No!"
"Yes. By the coach. Saw he was a tailor in a moment. Wouldn't stand
it if I were you."
Mrs Pinet, who came to the door with a candle, in answer to a sharp rap
with the visitor's cane, held up her candle above her head, and stared
at him for a moment. Then a smile dimpled her pleasant, plump face.
"Why, bless me, sir! how you have changed!" she said.
"You know me again, then?" he said nodding familiarly.
"That I do, sir, and I am glad. You're the young gentleman Mr Hallam
helped just about a year ago."
"Yes, that's me. Is he at home?"
"Yes, sir. Will you come this way?"
Mrs Pinet drew back to allow the visitor to enter, closed the door, set
down her candle, and then tapped softly on the panel at her right.
"Here's that gentleman to see you, sir," she said, in response to the
quick "Come in."
"Gentleman to see me? Oh, it's you," said Hallam, rising from his seat
to stand very upright and stern-looking, with one hand in his breast.
"Yes, I've come down again," said the visitor slowly, so as to give Mrs
Pinet time to get outside the door; and then, by mutual consent, they
waited until her step had pattered over the carefully-reddened old
bricks, and a door at the back closed.
Meanwhile Hallam's eyes ran rapidly over his visitor's garb, and he
seemed satisfied, though he smiled a little at the extravagance of the
attire.
"Why have you come down?" he said at last. "Because I didn't want to
write. Because I thought you'd like to know how things were going.
Because I wanted to see how you were getting on. Because I thought
you'd be glad to see me."
"Because you wanted more money. Because you thought you could put on
the screw. Because you thought you could frighten me. Pish! I could
extend your list of reasons indefinitely, Stephen Crellock, my lad,"
said Hallam, in a quiet tone of voice that was the more telling from the
anger it evidently concealed.
"What a one you are, Robby, old fellow! Just as you used to be when we
were at--"
"Let the past rest," said Hallam in a whisper. "It will be better for
both."
"Oh-h-h-h!" said his visitor, in a peculiar way. "Don't talk like that,
Rob, old chap. It sounds like making plans, and a tall, handsome man in
disguise waylaying a well-dressed gentleman from town, shooting him with
pistols, carrying the body in the dead of the night to the bank,
doubling it up in an iron chest, pouring in a lot of lime, and then
shutting the lid, sealing it up, and locking it in the far corner of the
bank cellar, as if it was somebody's plate. That's the game, eh?"
"I should like to," said Hallam coolly.
"Ha--ha--ha--ha!" laughed his visitor, sitting down; "but I'm not
afraid, Rob, or I should not have put my head in the lion's den. That's
not the sort of thing you would do, because you always were so
gentlemanly, and had such a tender conscience. See how grieved you were
when I got into trouble, and you escaped."
"Will you--"
"Will I what? Speak like that before any one else? Will I threaten you
with telling tales, if you don't give me money to keep my mouth shut?
Will I be a sneak?" cried Crellock, speaking quite as fiercely as
Hallam, and rising to his feet, and looking, in spite of his ultra
costume, a fine manly fellow.
"Well, yes, you cowardly cur; have you come down to do this now?" said
Hallam menacingly.
"Pish!" said the other contemptuously as he let himself sink back slowly
into his chair. "Don't try and bully, Rob. It did when I came down,
weak and half-starved and miserable, after two years' imprisonment; but
it won't do now. I don't look hard up, do I?"
"No; because you've spent my money on your wretched dress."
"I only spent your money when I couldn't make any for myself. I haven't
had a penny of you lately; and as to being a coward and a cur, Rob, when
I stood in the dock, and you were brought as a witness against me, and I
could have got off half my punishment by speaking the truth, was I a
sneak then, or did I stand, firm?"
There was a pause.
"Answer me; did I stand firm then?" cried Crellock.
"You did stand firm, and I have been grateful," said Hallam, in a milder
tone. "Look here, Stephen, why should we quarrel?"
"Ah, that's better, man," said Crellock, laughing. "You were so
terribly fierce with me last time, and I was brought down to a door-mat.
Anybody might have wiped his shoes on me. I'm better now."
"And you've come down to try and bully me," said Hallam fiercely.
His visitor sat back, looking at him hard, without speaking for a few
minutes, and then he said quietly:
"I give it up."
"Give what up--the attempt?"
"I couldn't give that up, because I was not going to attempt anything,"
said Crellock, smiling; "I mean give it up about you. What is it in
you, Rob Hallam, that made so many fellows like you, and give way to you
in everything? I don't know. But there, never mind that. Won't you
shake hands?"
"Tell me first why you have come down here. Do you want money?"
"No."
"Then why did you come down?"
Crellock's face softened a little, and it was not an ill-looking
countenance as he sat there, softly tapping the arm of the chair. At
last he spoke.
"I never had many friends," he said huskily. "Father and mother went
when I was a little one, and Uncle Richard gave me my education, telling
me brutally that I was an encumbrance. I always had to stop at school
through the holidays, and when I was old enough he put me, as you know,
in the bank, and told me he had done his duty by me, and I must now look
to myself."
"Yes, I know," said Hallam, coldly.
"Then I got to know you, Rob, and you seemed always to be everything a
man ought to be--handsome, and clever at every game, the best writer,
the best at figures. Then, after office hours, you could sing and play,
and tell the best story. There, Rob, you know I always got to feel
towards you as if I was your dog. There was nothing I wouldn't have
done for you. Then came those--"
"Hush!"
"Well, I'm not going to say anything dangerous. You know how I behaved.
I did think you would have made it a bit easier for me, when it was
found out; but when you turned against me like the rest, I said to
myself that it was all right, that it was no good for two to bear it
when one could take the lot, and if you had turned against me it was
only because it was what you called good policy, and it would be all
right again when I came out I thought you'd stick to me, Rob."
"How could I, a man in a good position, know a--"
"Felon--a convicted thief? There, say it, old fellow, if you like. I
don't mind; I got pretty well hardened down yonder. No: of course you
couldn't, and I know I was a fool to come down as I did before, such a
shack-bag as I was. Out of temper, too, and savage to see you looking
so well; but I know it was foolish. It was enough to make you turn on
me. But I'm different now: I've got on a bit."
"What are you doing?" said Hallam sharply.
"Oh, never mind," said the other, laughing. "I've opened an office, and
I'm doing pretty well, and I thought I'd come down and see you again,
Rob, old fellow, and--You'll shake hands?"
"Is this a bit of maudlin sentiment, Stephen Crellock, or are you
playing some deep game?"
Hallam's visitor rose again and stood before him with his hand
outstretched.
"Deep game!" he said softly. "Rob, old fellow, do you think a man can
be all a blackguard, without one good spot in him? Ah, well, just as
you like," he continued, dropping his hand heavily; "I was a fool to
come; I always have been a fool. I was cat, Rob, and you were monkey,
and I got my paws most preciously burned. But I didn't come down to
grumble. There; good-night!"
"Where are you going?"
"Back to the `George' and to-morrow I shall go up to the gold-paved
streets. There, you need not be afraid, man. If I didn't tell tales
when I was in the dock, I shan't now. I thought, after all, that you
were my friend."
"And so I am, Steve!" cried Hallam, after a few moments' hesitation, and
he held out his hand. "We'll be as good friends again as ever, and you
shall not suffer this time."
Crellock stifled a sob as he caught the extended hand, to wring it with
all his force; then, turning away, he laid his arms upon the
chimney-piece, his head dropped upon them, and for a few minutes he
cried like a child.
Hallam stood fuming and gazing down upon him, with an ugly look of
contempt distorting his handsome features. Then taking a step forward,
he laid his hand upon his visitor's shoulder.
"Come, come!" he said softly. "Don't go on like that." Crellock rose
quickly, and dashed the tears from his eyes, with a piteous attempt at a
laugh.
"That's me all over, Rob," he said. "Did you ever see such a weak fool?
I was bad enough before I had that two years' low fever; I'm worse now,
for it was spirit-breaking work."
"Soft wax, to mould to any shape," said Hallam to himself. Then aloud:
"I don't see anything to be ashamed of in a little natural emotion.
There, sit down, and let's have a chat."
Crellock caught his hand and gripped it hard. "Thank ye, Hallam," he
said huskily, "thank ye; I shan't forget this. I told you I'd always
felt as if I was your dog. I feel so more than ever now."
"They're sitting a long time," said Mrs Pinet, as she raked out the
kitchen fire to the very last red-hot cinder. "Mr Hallam seemed quite
pleased with him; he's altered so for the better. He said I needn't sit
up, and so I will go to bed."
Mrs Pinet sought her room, and about twelve heard the door close on the
stranger, between whom and Hallam a good deal of eager conversation had
passed in a low tone.
"You see I'm trusting you," said Hallam as they parted.
"You know you can," was the reply. "And now, look here, if anything
goes wrong--"
"I tell you, if you do as I have arranged, nothing can go wrong. I want
an agent in London, whom I can implicitly trust, and I am going to trust
you. Once more, your task is to do exactly what I tell you."
"But if anything goes wrong, I can't write to you."
"Nothing can go wrong, I tell you."
"Yes," said Crellock to himself, "you told me that once before." Then
aloud:
"Well, we will say nothing can go wrong, for I shall do exactly what you
have said; but if anything should, I shall come down, and if you see
me--look out."