CRAFTY, AND SIMPLE.
DOES it lighten a man’s calamities, or does it increase their burden,
to know that they are spread abroad and talked of by his fellow-men? No
man wishes to be famous for his evil fortune; and as for pity, he is
apt to be alike resentful, whether it is granted or denied. But that is
quite another point. Without a bit of selfishness, and looking at their
own interests only, I certainly had a right to complain that an outrage
which must move the heart of every honest husband, and thrill the
gentler bosom of his faithful wife, had scarcely stirred a single pulse
at Molesey; just because the river ran between us. None of the papers
(except one that we subscribed to, at an outlay of four and fourpence
per annum) had taken up my case with any fervour; as sometimes they
do, when there is nothing in it, like a terrier shaking a skull-cap.
This depends on chance; and all chances hitherto had crossed their legs
against me, so that I could bring forth no sound counsel.
When I told my uncle of my last suspicion, and that I could go no
further with it, because of the stubbornness of Phil Moggs he became so
enraged that I saw he was right.
“What!” he exclaimed—“that old hunks dare to refuse any further
information! I wonder you did not take him by the neck, and hoist him
clean over the tail of his _Duchess_. No doubt you would have done it
without the young lady. He would never dare to try it on with me. Why
I knew him when he dug lob-worms at the Hook. He has forgotten me, I
daresay. Well, I’ll remind him. You shall pull me up there to-morrow
morning. One way or the other, we’ll crack his eggshell. I could never
have believed it of him.”
It did not concern me to inquire; but so far as I could make out what
my uncle meant, he was not at all pleased with Mr. Moggs for having
got on in the world so well. No man can satisfy his friends in that
respect; unless he makes so big a jump that he can lift them also, and
even so he never does it to their satisfaction.
“To think of that fellow,” my dear uncle grumbled, all the way to
Shepperton, “owning half a dozen boats, and calling one of them the
_Duchess_! Why, I gave him an old pair of breeches once, that he might
not be had up for indecency. And now he calls my nephew, ‘Mr. What’s
your name!’ Do you know who his wife was? No, of course you don’t. But
I do. Why, she was in the stoke-holes at old Steers’,’ the pineapple
grower at Teddington. And no one knew whether she was a boy or a girl,
with a sack and four holes in it, for her arms and legs. But what a lot
of money they made then! He sold all his pines at five guineas apiece
to George the Fourth, and sometimes he got the money. Ah, there will
never be such days again. You must scrimp and scrape, and load back
from the mews, and pay a shilling, where they used to pay you to take
it. But here we are! Let him try his tricks with me.”
Unluckily my uncle got no chance of terrifying Mr. Moggs, as he
intended. We landed at a very pretty slab-faced cottage, covered with
vines and Virginia creepers, and my uncle began to shout—“Moggs,
Phil Moggs!” quite as if he were a Thames Commissioner. But no Moggs
answered, nor did any one appear, till my uncle seized a boat-hook,
and thundered at the door. Then a very respectable-looking woman, with
a pleasant face and fine silver hair, came and asked who we were, and
showed us in. She seemed to know my uncle very well, though he was not
at all certain about her.
“Is it possible, ma’am, after all these years,” he began in his best
manner, “that I see the young lady I once had the pleasure of knowing
as Miss Drudger?”
“You see the old woman, who was once that girl,” she answered, as she
offered him a chair; “ah, those indeed were pleasant days!”
I thought of the stoke-hole, and could well have believed that my uncle
had been romancing, if I had ever known him capable of that process.
But she very soon reassured me.
“I worked hard then, and I had no worries. But I have known plenty of
care since then. I suppose you came to see my husband, sir. Is there
any business I can do? He started for his holiday this morning. The
doctor has been ordering him change of air; and at last I persuaded
him to go. He is gone for a month or so, to Southsea. We have a
daughter there doing very well indeed. She is married to a large
boat-builder. My eldest son George sees to everything here, now his
father has taken him partner. But I keep the books, and can take any
order, just as if Mr. Moggs was at home.”
It seemed rather strange that she should speak like this, quite as if
she expected some inquiry. I looked at my uncle and saw that the same
idea was passing through his mind.
“Thank you, Mrs. Moggs,” he said, as if he wanted time to think; “I
fear that we must not trouble you. But are you in the habit of entering
orders?”
“All the more important ones we do. At least for the last year or two
we have. It was through a curious thing that happened, and we were
nearly getting into trouble.”
“You cannot be expected to show your books to strangers. I wanted to
ask one little question. Moggs would have answered it with pleasure.
But of course, as he is not at home—”
“That need not make any difference, sir. Everything we do is plain and
open. We don’t make a practice of showing our books. But if there is
any particular entry you wish to inquire about, I shall be glad to help
you. That is, if you can tell me the right date.”
Again we were surprised at her alacrity. But after a few words, my
uncle mentioned the 15th of last May, as the date of the occurrence he
wished to be informed about.
“Let us look at the day book,” she answered very promptly; “that will
show everything we did then. It is in the next room. You shall see it
in a minute.”
While she was gone, my uncle leaned both hands upon his stick, and
looked at me. “This is all gammon, Kit,” he whispered; “never mind; you
watch her.”
The old lady soon reappeared with the book, which was nothing but a
calendar interleaved.
“You see I have learned business since you knew me, Mr. Orchardson,”
she said as she turned back to the date; “Moggs isn’t half such a
scholar as I am; but George is a great deal better. Why, he can do
decimals, and fractions, and all that. You don’t mind my turning back
the edge of the leaf. Our prices, of course, are our own concern. We
don’t seem to have done much on the day you speak of.”
“Very little indeed. Much less than usual; though the day, if I
remember right, was beautifully clear and sunny. There seem to have
been only three boats out, and all of them up the river. Your husband
spoke of coming down our way; but I suppose it was some other time. And
of fetching a lady, who cried all the way.”
“Then it must have been some other day. It could never have been on
that day, you may be certain; or here it would be in black and white.
But he never remembers when he did a thing; and he often mixes up two
years together. A lady who cried? Why, let me see; I did hear something
about it. Was she in deep mourning, Mr. Orchardson?”
“Not in deep mourning at all; but a grey summer dress, and a short
cloak, or jacket, or whatever you call it, braided in front and
scolloped round the bottom. And a very beautiful face with blue eyes,
like the colour of the sky in settled weather—oh, but she may have
cried them out, so you must not go by that, so much. And she had a
pretty way of putting up one hand—”
“Shut up,” I said, for who could stand all this? And Mrs. Moggs looked
at me, as if she was so sorry.
“Oh, then it must be some one different altogether. The young party I
heard of was about a year ago, and they did say she was going to her
father’s funeral, whether that day or the next, I won’t be certain.
My poor Moggs begins to get queer in the head, from being so much on
the water, no doubt. He is right about most things, and you may take
his word for untold gold, Mr. Orchardson. Such a man of his word never
lived, I do believe. Sometimes I say it is unnatural, and he ought
to try to break himself; for if every one was like him, where would
business be? But without days and months, he is wrong more than right,
even when he have been to church and heard the psalms. No, no, sir; he
have put you in the wrong boat altogether. It can’t have been any of
our people.”
“You are sure to know best;” said my uncle, looking at her, in a very
peculiar way of his, which was apt to mean—“You are a liar;” and she
seemed to know well what was meant by it. “Mrs. Moggs, we are much
obliged to you. Remember me to your worthy husband”—he laid a little
stress on the adjective—“as soon as he comes back from Southsea.
Or rather when you join him there. What station do you find most
convenient?”
“Woking, sir; there are others nearer. But that is the first where all
trains stop, without you go back to Surbiton. ’Tis a long drive to
Woking; but they will soon come nearer, according to what I hear of
it. How they do cut up the country, to be sure! They are talking of a
lot of cross-lines already. But the river is the true line, made by the
Lord, and ever so much more pleasant.”
“So it is, Mrs. Moggs; and quite fast enough for me, when it isn’t
frozen over, as it was last winter. Ah, you must have had a bad time
then! But I am glad to have found you so flourishing. Good-bye, and we
are very much obliged to you.”
“Oh, the liar!” he cried, as we shot out of hearing. “Put a beggar on
horseback—it is the truest saying. Here comes a boat of theirs, by the
colour! Hold hard a moment, Kit; I want to ask a question.”
Easing oars, we glided gently past a light boat fitted for double
sculling, with only one young fellow in it, perhaps an apprentice.
“Young man,” said my uncle; “we want to know the name of your best
doctor here in Shepperton. Your governor is an old friend of mine.
What’s the name of the one he goes to?”
“He!” cried the young fellow, balancing his sculls; “he never been to
no doctor in his life. Don’t look as if he wanted one, do he? Oh, I
wish I was as tough as the old bloke is.”
“What do you think of that, Kit? Pretty solid, don’t you think? What a
bushel of lies we have had from that old Emmy! ‘Jemmy’ she was called,
till she turned out a girl, and then they took the J off. Such things
don’t happen in these schooling days; and much good they have done
with them! That thief of a Moggs has cut away, you see, through what
he heard last night in Sunbury. They’d lynch him there, if they knew
he had a fist in it. Now one thing is quite clear to me. Your dear
Kitty was taken in a boat, to Shepperton, or somewhere up the river;
and Moggs was paid well for doing it, and to hold his tongue about it
afterwards. Most likely he did not bring the _Duchess_, but a lighter
and swifter boat, perhaps the one we met. It is useless to ask any of
his fellows; you may be sure he never let them know of it. And it would
have been dark by the time he took her. He spoke of an old man, you
told me, when he let out what has put us up to this. Could that Downy
have made himself into an old man?”
“He could make himself into almost anything; but never so completely
as to cheat my Kitty. It must have been some one he sent, and not
himself. She would never have gone with the scoundrel himself.”
“No, she was much too sharp for that. What lies can they have told, to
make her cry so? It is the d——dest plot I ever heard, or read of. And
not a word from her, all this time! if she had been alive, she would
have found a way to write. Whatever she might believe you had done,
she never would have been so cold-blooded to her Kit. That is the
darkest point of all. I know what women are. Even her step-mother would
scarcely have been so relentless. And Kitty was the softest of the soft
to any one she cared for. I fear that you must make up your mind to the
worst that can have happened, my dear boy.”
“I will do nothing of the sort,” I answered, although I had often tried
to do it; “and just when we have hit upon a fresh track, uncle! _Nip_
is in the stable. Can I have him? I shall start for Woking Road, this
very afternoon. It can do no harm, if it does no good. And I never
could sit still, and let it stop just as it is.”
“Very well; and I will telegraph for Tony Tonks to come down by the
time that you return. We are bound to let him know of this last turn of
the mystery.”
To this I agreed; and as soon as we got back, I saddled the young
horse _Nip_, and rode by way of Walton Bridge to Woking, feeling as I
went that I would almost rather know the worst, than live on in this
horrible suspense.
Woking Road Station was a very different place from what it is now, and
of much less importance. Where a busy town stands now, created by the
railway, and mainly peopled by it, there were in those days but a few
sad cottages in an expanse of dark furze and lonely commons. Very poor
sandy land, and black patches where the gorse had been fired, and one
public-house, called of course the _Railway Hotel_, and large sweeps
of young fir-plantations were its chief features then, and the shabby
station looked like a trunk pitched from the line.
There were two dirty flies, like watchmen’s boxes, one with the shafts
turned up, and the other peopled by a horse, who had been down upon his
knees, and was licking the flies off at his leisure. The driver was
sitting on a log in the distance, cutting bread and cheese, and sipping
something from a tin which appeared to have submitted to the black
embrace of bonfires.
Perceiving that this was a crusty old fellow, of true British fibre,
and paid by the day, which relieved him from restless anxiety for work,
I approached him as nearly as I could in his own vein.
“They don’t seem to be very busy here just now. But I suppose your old
nag can go along when he likes. How much do you charge to Shepperton?”
“Shepp’ton, Shepp’ton? Never heard of no such place. Which way do it
lie, governor?
“Well, you had better ask,” I said very craftily as I fancied; “some
of your mates will be sure to know. Some of them must have been there
before now. They can tell you how far it is.”
“None of them at home this afternoon,” the lazy rogue answered, as he
took another mouthful; “better ask station-master. Like enough, he
knows.”
“He has nothing to do with you. And I want to know what the fare is.
Look here, I’ll stand you a pint at the bar, if you will just come up,
and find out what it is. Some of your mates must have been as far as
that, to take people for the pike-fishing. Shepperton is a great place
for that.”
“Very well, come along. But what do you want a cab for, when you’ve got
your own horse, and a good ’un too?”
“Stick to your own business,” I answered gruffly; and that tone seemed
to have more charm for him, as happens very often with ill-conditioned
men; “you are on your legs now, try to keep them moving.”
“Gent wants to know fare to Shepperton;” he shouted through the
precincts of the bar into the stable-yard. “Any of you chaps been there
lately? Governor gone up to have a snooze.” He illustrated that point
with a genial wink.
“Why, Tom been there, not so very long agone,” said a little old
man who was washing a double curb under the pump, and twisting out
the grime with his thumbnails; “or if it wasn’t Tom, it was Joe—Joe
Clipson, so it was. And a long job it were. I had to stop up for him.
Thought something must have happened—he were gone such a time.”
“Ah, but perhaps he went with a fishing party,” I said as indifferently
as I could; “when people go fishing they won’t be hurried. Come in and
have a glass of beer yourself, my friend.”
“Well, no. I never see’d no rods, nor baskets, nor nothing of that
sort, so far as I remember. But he did say something about waiting for
a boat. Thank’e, sir, thank’e; here’s your good health.”
“How long ago was it? And who went with him?” My hand began to shake a
little, do what I would. For I seemed to be on the track at last, where
no one was likely to be bribed into lying.
“Well, I don’t know justly, for I worn’t here when he went; and when he
come back, he had been to station first, and I were that sleepy that I
didn’t care to hearken, nor he to gab much, for that matter; but I know
he said something about a young femmel. And how long agone? Why, let me
see. Must ’a been about time for sowing scarlet-runners, for I mind my
little grand-darter was playing with them, pointing out the speckles,
and no two quite alike, a thing as I never took no heed on; and I must
a’ been shelling of them for her mother.”
“What time do you generally sow scarlet-runners here? Not, I suppose,
till all chance of frost is over.”
“Well, sir, generally about third week in May month. There is a lucky
day, I know—birthday of Saint Somebody. Rabbit me if I can tell his
name—the chap as took the Devil by the nose and made him holler. Blest
if I shouldn’t ’a liked to see that though. Wouldn’t you, Bill? What a
spree it must ’a been!”
“I can’t remember anything about those saints. Our parson isn’t one to
insist upon them. But the one that did that, was called ‘Dunstan,’ I
believe. ‘Dunstan,’ does that sound like it?”
“Why, it is the very ticket!” he exclaimed, with a clink of his pewter
on the slate slab, made up to look like marble. “Bill, you know, that’s
the day for putting scarlet-runners in?”
“Was it him as was going in a cab, to what you call it?”
“No, no, Bill. You never had no eddication. They used to teach us
better in the times gone by. ’Twas three, or four days before his time.
Fetch a Prayer-book, miss; and then I’ll prove it.”
The young lady in the bar, who had been looking at us queerly, tossed
her head, as if to say—“What fools these men are!” Then she swept the
money out of reach, and disappeared. Presently she came back, with an
ancient Prayer-book; and my old friend, after spitting on his fingers,
turned over the leaves of the calendar, and shouted—“Here it is! I
could ’a sworn to it, from Sunday-school. May 19th. St. Dunstan’s Day!”
He put his thumb upon the place, and made a long-abiding mark; and I
never shall forget again St. Dunstan’s Day. Those Board schools never
teach such useful things as that. And at grammar-school we only kept
the best of the Apostles.
“Where is Joe Clipson to be found?” I asked. “Surely he could tell us
all about it. I will give a sovereign to know who came in his cab, that
night, from Shepperton.”
All who had gathered for that great discussion looked at me with
astonishment and fear. And I saw that I had made a wrong move
altogether. For nothing shuts up country mouths so sharply, as the
hovering in the air of a thing that may prove criminal. At the same
time, I saw that deep interest was stirred; and I fancied, very
naturally, that it must be in my favour.
“Can’t say when Joe will be at home,” said my old friend. “He have gone
to Knapp Hill with a gent, to see the trees. When they gets among they,
they never comes back in a hurry. Might be nine o’clock afore he comes
home.”
I looked at my watch, and saw that I must start at once, if I meant
to be at home in time to meet Tony Tonks. And it struck me, that he
would be much more capable of going through with the inquiries here,
than I, who had already made a muddle of it, by putting questions too
point-blank. So I tried to put on a careless manner.
“Well, we won’t say any more about it now. Only I should like to know
what fish they caught; or whether they weighed in at the club with what
they bought. If we think it worth while to go on with this, we can send
a boy over, to hear Joe’s account. It doesn’t concern any one except
ourselves. But we don’t like to be beaten by the silver hook. There is
a rare fish at Shepperton, that nobody can catch.”
They looked at me, as if they could not quite accept this turn; and
there was much disappointment on the barmaid’s face; for, with a
woman’s instinct, she had scented a romance. But without another word,
I jumped into the saddle, and was soon upon the furzy commons, full of
prickly wonderings.