|Before going out to his work, Hartley had a little talk in private with
Walter.
Fearing he might be inconvenienced from want of money--having heard him
say, at their first meeting on Westminster Bridge, that he had none--the
worthy stonemason, with great consideration, volunteered to lend him
five pounds, on the simple understanding that this sum was to be repaid
when Walter had earned so much wages.
Thus amply provided with funds, Walter sallied forth after breakfast
to make a few necessary purchases preparatory to entering upon the
situation, should he obtain it--and telling Mrs Hartley what to say
to Mr. Tankard, in case that obliging person should call during his
absence.
His first business was to seek out a hair-dresser's shop; and, hearing
there were several in the Lambeth Road, he went thither.
He had not proceeded far, when he came to an establishment that bore
the name _Sigebert Smart_, in large gilt letters, above the window, and
promised all he desired.
Entering the shop, he perceived two persons--one a showy-looking female,
stationed behind a counter laden with pots of pomade, flacons of oil,
brushes, sponges, and perfumery; the other, a dapper, fair-complexioned
young man, with his blonde hair brushed back from his forehead.
This was Sigebert Smart in person. Having been for a year in Paris, at a
large shop in the Rue St. Honoré, he considered himself perfectly versed
in all the arts and mysteries of a French coiffeur, and incomparably
superior to any of his rivals in the Lambeth Road.
Walter thought the hairdresser stared at him rather inquisitively as
he entered the shop; but the man's manner was perfectly polite, and,
on learning his customer's requirements, he begged him to step into an
inner room, communicating by a glass-door with the shop.
“Pray be seated, sir!” said Sigebert, pointing to a well-stuffed
arm-chair. “Shaved, I think you said, sir?”
“Shaved!” repeated Walter.
“Before taking the irreparable step,” said Sigebert, placing himself in
front of his customer, and regarding him steadfastly, “let me ask if you
have reflected?”
“What d'ye mean?” cried Walter, staring at him in surprise.
“Excuse me, sir,” rejoined the hairdresser, “but have you positively
determined to part with that magnificent beard?”
“I don't like to lose it, I confess,” replied Walter. “But I have no
choice.”
“That's hard. Never in my experience have I beheld a finer beard, nor
better grown. I shall be loth to cut it.”
“You are pleased to compliment me,” said Walter.
“It is not my habit, sir, I assure you. Generally I am frank to a fault.
_Apropos des barbes_, I will tell you a curious story. A gentleman
called here last evening, and inquired whether a very tall young man,
dressed in a grey tweed suit, exactly like yours, sir, and having a
particularly handsome brown beard, the very ditto of yours, sir, lodged
in the Lambeth Road, or hereabouts. I told him I had not remarked any
such person; but you, sir, answer precisely to the description. Strange
you should put in an appearance next day!”
“That's why you stared at me so hard when I entered the shop?” cried
Walter.
“Couldn't help it, sir. Quite startled.”
“And now for a description of the individual who has taken the liberty
to inquire about me?” said Walter.
“Tall, thin, sharp features; long, straight nose; professional-looking,”
replied Sigebert.
“I know him,” said Walter. “I saw him yesterday.”
“At Lambeth Pier; he said he caught sight of you there. He appears most
anxious to find you, and has been making inquiries about you in the
neighbourhood.”
“Did he mention any name?”
“No; he was exceedingly reserved on that point. But I think he'll call
again.”
“I've no especial desire to see him. But now to work.”
“Must I really commit this outrage?” cried Sige-bert, flourishing his
scissors. “My soul revolts at the deed.”
Walter, however, insisted, and, in a very few minutes, his luxuriant
beard had vanished, and his cheeks and chin were perfectly smooth.
He had just got up from the arm-chair, when the glass-door opened, and a
tall man came in.
“You have found your friend at last, sir,” cried Sigebert, on beholding
him. “I suppose my wife told you he was here?”
“She did,” replied the other.
Walter, however, did not seem willing to acknowledge the intruder as a
friend, but drew himself up, and regarded him sternly--almost angrily.
“Perhaps I had better retire, gentlemen,” said Sigebert. “You may wish
to have a little private converse.”
With this, he went out, but we rather fancy the door was left slightly
ajar.
“How is it that you have presumed to follow me about in this way?” asked
Walter, in an offended tone.
“You must forgive me, sir. I saw you yesterday, and have searched for
you here to-day. It is my earnest desire to induce you to return to your
relatives and friends. They feared something terrible had happened to
you.”
“They need not trouble themselves about me,” rejoined Walter. “I shall
not trouble myself about them.”
“But I have certain propositions to make to you.”
“I reject all propositions. It is useless to talk to me.”
“I have, also, a sum of money at your disposal. Will you not receive
it?”
“If it comes from a particular quarter, and as an allowance, no!”
“Permit me to say, sir,” remarked the tall gentleman in a grave tone,
“that you are acting very injudiciously, and are throwing away a great
piece of good fortune. All can be easily put to rights if you will only
allow me to do it. And there are many other advantages that might accrue
to you, to which I cannot now more particularly advert.”
“I am the best judge of what concerns myself, sir.”
“I don't think so,” rejoined the other. “You seem obstinately bent upon
pursuing a wrong course. Have you any debts?”
“None!”
“Any liabilities?”
“None!”
“Then why not assume your proper position? You will have every aid. I
understand your objections, and though I deem them ridiculous, I shall
not attempt to combat them at this moment. But there are friends willing
and anxious to assist you. Amongst others,” he added, lowering his
voice, “Sir Bridgnorth Charlton.”
“Sir Bridgnorth is an excellent man--one in a thousand!”
“Then you cannot distrust him?”
“I do not distrust him! On the contrary, I have entire confidence in
him! He is a gentleman and a man of honour!”
“Let him have the management of your affairs.”
“Do you come from Sir Bridgnorth?”
“Sir Bridgnorth is not certain you are alive. He fears you have
committed suicide. It will be a great satisfaction to him and several
others to learn that you have not executed your fell purpose.”
“Suffer them to remain in ignorance. I would rather they supposed me
dead. Keep this secret for me, I beg of you. It is the sole favour you
can do me. I will reappear at the proper time.”
“But, meanwhile, you will make several persons very unhappy--your
sister, who has the greatest affection for you, as I can testify--and
Miss Barfleur.”
“Miss Barfleur!” exclaimed Walter, starting. “She has no interest in
me.”
“You are mistaken,” replied the other. “Sir Leycester Barfleur having
recently died, she is now a great heiress.”
“The very reason why she should not think of me.”
“Don't despair! Make your appearance!”
“I have said I will appear at the proper time--not before.”
“Won't you give me any idea of your projects?”
“No.”
“Do you want money? I am ready to advance it to you.”
“I want none.”
“Then our interview is at an end.”
“Once more, I must ask you not to mention that you have seen me.”
“I cannot consent to keep those persons who are attached to you in
doubt--nor ought you to ask it. If, for reasons of your own, you choose
to live in concealment and under a feigned name, however I may regret
your determination, I shall not attempt to interfere with it. But I am
persuaded you will speedily change your mind.”
“If I do, I'll write to you.”
“No; write to Sir Bridgnorth. He is searching for you. He ought to have
a letter. Address him at the 'Grosvenor Hotel.' He is now in town.”
“I will do it. Before we separate, give me your word that you won't
follow me, nor attempt to find out my abode. You will gain nothing by
the discovery.”
“I give you my word,” replied the other. “Enough,” said Walter. “I thank
you heartily for the trouble you have taken about me. Adieu!”
On issuing forth into the shop, Walter found the hairdresser standing
rather suspiciously near the glass-door. But he seemed to have some
employment at the counter. Walter, however, could not help remarking
that Sigebert's manner towards him seemed more respectful than it had
been.
As he received payment for the task he had performed, the hairdresser
exclaimed:
“Ah, sir, I fear you'll regret the loss of your beard. Your best friend
wouldn't recognise you--you're so much changed. But don't lay the blame
on me. I did my best to dissuade you.”
As he bowed the young man out, he looked after him for a moment, and saw
that he proceeded towards the bridge, whereupon the wily Sigebert made a
significant gesture to his wife as he returned.
At this juncture, the tall, professional-looking gentleman came forth,
and having nothing to pay, merely offered his thanks as he went out.
A hansom cab chancing to pass at the moment, he immediately got into it,
and ordered the driver to go to the “Grosvenor Hotel.”
Meanwhile, Sigebert, having divested himself of his apron and put on
a hat, nodded to his wife, and followed Walter, who was not yet out of
sight--his tall figure rendering him easily distinguishable.