I stood staring at the five-pound note which Flanagan had left in my
hand in a state of utter bewilderment.
My first impulse was to give chase to my benefactor and compel him to
take back the money. My second was to do nothing of the sort, but
rejoice with thankfulness over the help thus unexpectedly sent me.
It was little enough I had done to deserve any one's kindness, and it
was only too reasonable to expect to have to get myself out of my own
troubles. But here, like some good fairy, my old Irish schoolfellow had
stepped on to the scene, and sent all those troubles to the right-about
with a single turn of the hand.
What rejoicings Jack and I had that night over my good fortune! What
careful plans we made for a systematic repayment of the loan! and how
jubilantly I looked forward to handing Hawkesbury back his thirty
shillings in the morning!
Since I had received that letter of his my wrath had somewhat abated
towards him. Much as I disliked and suspected him, still I could not
feel quite certain that he might not after all have meant well by what
he did, however blundering and objectionable a way he had taken to show
it. That, however, did not interfere with my satisfaction now at the
prospect of being quits.
It was a positive luxury, as Jack and I entered the office next morning,
to be able to meet his amiable, condescending smile in a straightforward
way, and not by colouring up and looking confused and chafing inwardly.
I was anxious to get the ceremony over as soon as possible, and
therefore walked straight up to his desk, and, placing the thirty
shillings before him, said, in a voice which I did not trouble to
conceal from the other clerks present.
"That's the thirty shillings you paid Wallop for me the other day,
Hawkesbury. I'm much obliged for the loan of it."
If some one had informed him he was to start in five minutes for the
North Pole, he could not have looked more amazed or taken aback.
Nothing, evidently, had been farther from his thoughts than that I
should be able to repay the loan, and to have it here returned into his
hands before I had been his debtor a week fairly astonished him.
His face darkened suddenly into an expression very unusual with him, as
he looked first at the money, then at me.
However, I gave him no time to say anything, but hurried off to my desk,
feeling--for the first time since my return to Hawk Street--that there
was not a man at the office I dared not look in the face.
As I expected, he sidled up to me at the first opportunity.
"Batchelor," said he, "you must really take the money back. I am sure
you must want it. I should be quite uncomfortable to feel I was
depriving you of it."
And so saying, he actually laid the two coins down on my desk.
"Thank you," I began; "but if--"
"Please don't talk so loud," said he; "I would rather everybody didn't
hear."
"Then," said I, "kindly take the money off my desk. It's yours."
"But, really, Batchelor, I don't feel comfortable--"
"I do," I interrupted.
"I am sure you are not in a position to afford it," said he. "Excuse my
asking, but--"
"I suppose you'd like to know where I got it from," said I, irritated at
his persistency. "You may be surprised to hear I didn't steal it, and
equally surprised to hear I have no notion of gratifying your
curiosity."
I was perfectly amazed at my own hardihood in thus addressing him. But
now I had paid him I was afraid of him no more. He was too much put out
to keep up his chronic smile as he said. "I hardly expected to be
spoken to in this way by you, Batchelor, after all that has happened.
If you had been left to yourself, I'm sure you would not have spoken so,
but your friend Smith appears to have a special spite against me."
I was tempted to retort, but did not, and he went back pensively to his
desk, taking the money with him.
The remainder of the five-pound note served to discharge my debts to the
Twins, and to Tucker, the pastrycook, and Weeden, the tobacconist. The
last two I paid myself; the first I sent by Doubleday, not wishing to
encounter again the familiar heroes of the "usual lot."
It was with a light heart and a sense of burden removed from my life
that I returned that evening to the lodgings, whither jack had preceded
me.
On my arrival I found him in a state of uneasiness.
"Very queer," said he, "Billy's not turned up. He was to be here at
seven, and it's now half-past; I never knew him late before."
"Very likely he's had some unexpected customers to detain him," I said.
"Not likely. Billy wouldn't be late for an appointment here if the
Prince of Wales himself came to get his boots blacked."
"What can have become of him, then?" I said.
"I wish I knew. I am afraid he's got into trouble."
We waited another half-hour, and no Billy appeared. Smith looked more
and more anxious.
"I think," said he, "we'd better go and look for him, Fred; what do you
say?"
"I'll come, certainly," said I; "but where do you expect to find him?"
"If there is no sign of him in Style Street, I expect he'll be in the
court where his mother lives."
I had a lively recollection of my last visit to that aristocratic
thoroughfare. But I did not wish to seem unwilling to accompany Jack in
his quest. Only I rather hoped we should find our man--or boy--in Style
Street.
But that we did not do. The flagstone on which he was wont to establish
his box was there, bare and unoccupied except for the scrawling letters
and sums traced out with his finger-tip. High or low, he was not to be
found in Style Street.
We went on in the growing dark towards the court.
"Do you know the house he lives at?"
"I'm not sure," said Jack.
"Do you know what name to inquire for?"
"No, only Billy," said Jack.
"Don't you think," said I, "it's rather unlikely we shall come across
him in a crowded court like that, knowing neither the name nor the house
where he lives?"
"Let us try, anyhow," said Jack.
We went on, and soon reached the well-known "slum." I must confess
honestly I would rather not have entered. Last time we had been there
one of us had been struck by smallpox, and both had had to run for our
lives, and it seemed to me--perhaps my illness had made me a coward--
that we were running an unnecessary risk now by plunging into it just
because Billy happened to be an hour late for an appointment.
However, Jack was determined, and I was determined to stick by Jack.
When we first entered, the court was as before, swarming with men and
women and children, and in the crowd we passed some way unnoticed.