DANGER.
Mrs. Brightman was certainly improving. When I reached her house with
Annabel on the following day, Sunday, between one and two o'clock, she
was bright and cheerful, and came towards the entrance-gates to meet
us. She, moreover, displayed interest in all we told her of our
honeymoon in the Isle of Wight, and of the places we had visited.
Besides that, I noticed that she took water with her dinner.
"If she'll only keep to it," said Hatch, joining me in her
unceremonious fashion as I strolled in the garden later, smoking a
cigar. "Yes, Mr. Charles, she's trying hard to put bad habits away
from her, and I hope she'll be able to do it."
"I hope and trust she will!"
"Miss Brightman went back to Hastings the day after the wedding-day,"
continued Hatch; "but before she started she had a long interview with
my mistress, they two shut up in missis's bedroom alone. For pretty
nigh all the rest of the day, my missis was in tears, and she has not
touched nothing strong since."
"Nothing at all!" I cried in surprise, for it seemed too good to be
true. "Why, that's a fortnight ago! More than a fortnight."
"Well, it is so, Mr. Charles. Not but that missis has tried as long
and as hard before now--and failed again."
It was Monday evening before I could find time to go round to
Lake's--and he did not come to me. He was at home, poring over some
difficult law case by lamp-light.
"Been in court all day, Charley," he cried. "Have not had a minute to
spare for you."
"About Tom?" I said, as I sat down. "You seemed to say that you had
more unpleasantness to tell me."
"Aye, about Tom," he replied, turning his chair to face me, and
propping his right elbow upon his table. "Well, I fear Tom is in a bad
way."
"In health, you mean?"
"I do. His cough is frightful, and he is more like a skeleton than a
living being. I should say the illness has laid hold of his lungs."
"Has he had a doctor?"
"No. Asks how he is to have one. Says a doctor might (they were his
own words) smell a rat. Doctors are not called in to the class of
people lodging in that house unless they are dying: and it would soon
be seen by any educated man that Tom is not of _their_ kind. My
opinion is, that a doctor could not do him much good now," added Lake.
He looked at me as he spoke; to see, I suppose, whether I took in his
full meaning. I did--unhappily.
"And what do you think he is talking of now, Charles?" returned Lake.
"Of giving himself up."
"Giving himself up! What, to justice?"
Lake nodded. "You know what Tom Heriot is--not much like other
people."
"But why should he think of _that_? It would end everything."
"I was on the point of asking him why," said Lake. "Whether I should
have had a satisfactory answer, I cannot say; I should think he could
not give one; but we were interrupted. Miss Betsy Lee came in."
"Who? What?" I cried, starting from my chair.
"The young lady you told me of who lives in Lambeth--Miss Betsy Lee.
Sit down, Charley. She came over to bring him a pot of jelly."
"Then he has let those people know where he is, Lake! Is he mad?"
"Mad as to carelessness," assented Lake. "I tell you Tom Heriot's not
like other people."
"He will leave himself no chance."
"She seems to be a nice, modest little woman," said Lake; "and I'll go
bail her visit was quite honest and proper. She had made this jelly,
she told Tom, and she and her father hoped it would serve to
strengthen him, and her father sent his respects, and hopes to hear
that Captain Strange was feeling better."
"Well, Lake, the matter will get beyond me," I said in despair. "Only
a word dropped, innocently, by these people in some dangerous quarter,
and where will Tom be?"
"That's just it," said Lake. "Policeman Wren is acquainted with them."
"Did you leave the girl there?"
"No. Some rough man came into the room smoking, and sat down,
evidently with the intention of making an evening of it; he lives in
the same house and has made acquaintance with Tom, or Tom with him.
So I said good-night, and the girl did the same, and we went down
together. 'Don't you think Captain Strange looks very ill, sir?' said
she as we got into the street. 'I'm afraid he does,' I answered. 'I'm
sure he does, sir,' she said. 'It's a woeful pity that somebody should
be coming upon him for a big back debt just now, obliging him to keep
quiet in a low quarter!' So that is what Tom has told his Lambeth
friends," concluded Lake.
Lake gave me the address in Southwark, and I determined to see Tom the
next evening. In that, however, I was disappointed. One of our oldest
clients, passing through London from the country on his way to Pau,
summoned me to him on the Tuesday evening.
But I went on Wednesday. The stars were shining overhead as I
traversed the silent street, making out Tom's lodgings. He had only an
attic bedroom, I found, and I went up to it. He was partly lying
across the bed when I entered.
I almost thought even then that I saw death written in his face.
White, wan, shadowy it looked; much changed, much worn from what it
was three weeks before. But it lighted up with a smile, as he got up
to greet me.
"Halloa, Charley!" cried he. "Best congratulations! Made yourself into
a respectable man. All good luck to yourself and madam. I'm thinking
of coming to Essex Street to pay the wedding visit."
"Thank you," said I, "but do be serious. My coming here is a hazard,
as you know, Tom; don't let us waste in nonsense the few minutes I may
stay."
"Nonsense!" cried Tom. "Why, do you think I should be afraid to
venture to Essex Street?--what nonsense is there in that? Look here,
Charley!"
From some box in a dark corner of the room, he got out an old big blue
cloak lined with red, and swung it on. The collar, made of some black
curly wool, stood up above his ears. He walked about the small room,
exhibiting himself.
"Would the sharpest officer in Scotland Yard take me for anyone but
old Major Carlen?" laughed he. "I'm sure I look like his double in
this elegant cloak. It was his, once."
"His! What, Major Carlen's?"
"Just so. He made me a present of it."
"You have seen him, then!"
"I sent for him," answered Tom, putting off the old cloak and coughing
painfully after his recent exertion. "I thought I should like to see
the old fellow; I was not afraid he'd betray me; Carlen would not do
that; and I dropped a quiet note to his club, taking the chance of his
being in town."
"Taking the chance! Suppose he had not been in town, Tom, and the note
had fallen into wrong hands--some inquisitive waiter, let us say, who
chose to open it?"
"Well--what then? A waiter would only turn up his nose at Mr. Dominic
Turk, the retired schoolmaster, and close up the note again for the
Major."
"And what would Major Carlen make of Mr. Dominic Turk?"
"Major Carlen would know my handwriting, Charley."
"And he came in answer to it?"
"He came: and blew me up in a loud and awful fashion; seemed to be
trying to blow the ceiling off. First, he threatened to go out and
bring in the police; next, he vowed he would go straight to Blanche
and tell her all. Finally, he calmed down and promised to send me one
of his cast-off cloaks to disguise me, in case I had to go into the
streets. Isn't it a beauty?"
"Well, now, Tom, if you can be serious for once, what is going to
become of you, and what is to be done? I've come to know."
"Wish I could tell you; don't know myself," said he lightly.
"What was it you said to Lake about giving yourself up?"
"Upon my word of honour, Charley, I sometimes feel inclined to do it.
I couldn't be much worse off in prison than I am here. Sick and sad,
lad, needing comforts that can't be had in such a place as this; no
one to see after me, no one to attend to me. Anyway, it would end the
suspense."
I sat turning things about in my mind. It all seemed so full of
hazard. That he must be got away from his present quarters was
certain. I told him so.
"But you are so recklessly imprudent, you see, Tom," I observed, "and
it increases the risk. You have had Miss Betsy Lee here."
Tom flung himself back with a laugh. "She has been here twice, the
good little soul. The old man came once."
"Don't you think you might as well take up your standing to-morrow on
the top of the Monument, and proclaim yourself to the public at large?
You try me greatly, Tom!"
"Try you because I see the Lees! Come, Charley, that's good. They are
as safe as you are."
"In intention perhaps. How came you to let them know you were to be
found here?"
"How came I?" he carelessly rejoined. "Let's see? Oh, I remember. One
evening when I was hipped, fit to die of it all and of the confinement
to this wretched room, I strolled out. My feet took me to the old
ground--Lambeth--and to Lee's. He chanced to see me, and invited me
in. Over some whisky and water, I opened out my woes to them; not of
course the truth, but as near as might be. Told them of a curmudgeon
creditor of past days that I feared was coming down upon me, so that I
had to be in close hiding for a bit."
"But you need not have told them where."
"Oh, they'll be cautious. Miss Betsy was so much struck with my cough
and my looks that she said she should make some jelly for me, of the
kind she used to make for her mother before she died; and the good
little girl has brought me some over here twice in a jar. They are
all right, Charley."
It was of no use contending with him. After sitting a little time
longer, I promised that he should shortly see me again or hear from
me, and took my departure. Full of doubt and trouble, I wanted to be
alone, to decide, if possible, what was to be done.
What to do about Tom I knew not. That he required nursing and
nourishment, and that he ought to be moved where he could have it, was
indisputable. But--the risk!
Three-parts of the night I lay awake, thinking of different plans.
None seemed feasible. In the morning I was hardly fit for my day's
work, and set to it with unsteady nerves and a worried brain. If I had
only someone to consult with, some capable man who would help me! I
did think of Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar; but I knew he would not like
it, would probably refuse advice. One who now and again sat in the
position of judge, sentencing men himself, would scarcely choose to
aid in concealing an escaped convict.
I was upstairs in the dining-room at one o'clock, taking luncheon with
Annabel, when the door was thrown back by Watts and there loomed into
the room the old blue cloak with the red lining. For a moment I
thought it was the one I had seen the past night in Southwark, and my
heart leaped into my mouth. Watts's quiet announcement dispelled the
alarm.
"Major Carlen, sir."
The Major unclasped his cloak after shaking hands with us, and flung
it across the sofa, just as Tom had flung his on the bed. I pointed to
the cold beef, and asked if he would take some.
"Don't mind if I do, Charles," said he, drawing a chair to the table:
"I'm too much bothered just now to eat as I ought. A pretty kettle of
fish this is, lad, that you and I have had brought upon us!"
I gave him a warning look, glancing at Annabel. The old fellow
understood me--she had not been trusted with the present trouble.
That Tom Heriot had effected his escape, Annabel knew; that it was
expected he would make his way home, she knew; but that he had long
been here, and was now close at hand, I had never told her. Why
inflict upon her the suspense I had to endure?
"Rather a chilly day for the time of year," observed the Major, as he
coughed down his previous words. "Just a little, Mrs. Strange;
underdone, please."
Annabel, who carved at luncheon-time, helped him carefully. "And what
kettle of fish is it that you and Charles are troubled with, Major?"
she inquired, smiling.
"Ah--aw--don't care to say much about it," answered the Major, more
ready at an excuse than I should have deemed him. "Blanche is up to
her ears in anger against Level; says she'll get a separation from
him, and all that kind of nonsense. But you and I may as well not make
it our business, Charles, I expect: better let married folk fight out
their own battles. And have you heard from your Aunt Lucy yet, Mrs.
Strange?"
So the subject was turned off for the time; but down below, in my
office, the Major went at it tooth and nail, talking himself into a
fever. All the hard names in the Major's vocabulary were hurled at
Tom. His original sin was disgraceful enough, never to be condoned,
said the Major; but his present imprudent procedure was worse, and
desperately wicked.
"Are Blanche and her husband still at variance?" I asked, when he had
somewhat cooled down on the other subject.
"They just are, and are likely to remain so," growled the Major. "It's
Blanche's fault. Men have ways of their own, and she's a little fool
for wishing to interfere with his. Don't let your wife begin that,
Charles; it's my best advice to you. You are laughing, young fellow!
Well, perhaps you and Level don't row in quite the same boat; but you
can't foresee the shoals you may pitch into. No one can."
We were interrupted by Lennard, who had come back on the previous day,
pale and pulled down by his sharp attack of illness, but the same
efficient man of business as ever. A telegram had been delivered,
which he could not deal with without me.
"I'll be off, then," said the Major; "I suppose I'm only hindering
work. And I wish you well through your difficulties, Charles," he
added significantly. "I wish all of us well through them. Good-day,
Mr. Lennard."
The Major was ready enough to wish _that_, but he could not suggest
any means by which it might be accomplished. I had asked him; and he
confessed himself incompetent to advise. "I should send him off to sea
in a whaling-boat and keep him there," was all the help he gave.
Lennard stayed beyond time that evening, and was ready in my private
room to go over certain business with me that had transpired during my
own absence. I could not give the necessary attention to it, try as
earnestly as I would: Tom and _his_ business kept dancing in my brain
to the exclusion of other things. Lennard asked me whether I was ill.
"No," I answered; "at least, not in body." And as I spoke, the thought
crossed me to confide the trouble to Lennard. He had seen too much
trouble himself not to be safe and cautious, and perhaps he might
suggest something.
"Let Captain Heriot come to me," he immediately said. "He could not be
safer anywhere. Sometimes we let our drawing-room floor; it is vacant
now, and he can have it. My wife and my daughter Charlotte will attend
to his comforts and nurse him, if that may be, into health. It is the
best thing that can be done with him, Mr. Charles."
I saw that it was, seeming to discern all the advantages of the
proposal at a grasp, and accepted it. We consulted as to how best to
effect Tom's removal, which Lennard himself undertook. I dropped a
hasty note to "Mr. Turk" to prepare him to be in readiness the
following evening, and Lennard posted it when he went out. He had no
sooner gone, than the door of my private room slowly opened, and,
rather to my surprise, Leah appeared.
"I beg your pardon, sir, for presuming to disturb you here," she said;
"but I can't rest. There's some great trouble afloat; I've seen it in
your looks and ways, sir, ever since Sunday. Your face couldn't
deceive me when you were my little nursling, Master Charles, and it
can't deceive me now. Is it about Mr. Tom?"
"Well, yes, it is, Leah."
Her face turned white. "He has not got himself taken, surely!"
"No; it's not so bad as that--yet."
"Thank Heaven for it!" she returned. "I knew it was him, and I'm all
in a twitter about him from morning till night. I can't sleep or eat
for dreading the news that any moment may bring of him. It seems to
me, Mr. Charles, that one must needs be for ever in a twitter in this
world; before one trouble is mended, another turns up. No sooner am I
a bit relieved about poor Nancy, that unfortunate daughter of mine,
than there comes Mr. Tom."
The relief that Leah spoke of was this: some relatives of Leah's
former husband, Nancy's father, had somehow got to hear of Nancy's
misfortunes. Instead of turning from her, they had taken her and her
cause in hand, and had settled her and her three children in a general
shop in Hampshire near to themselves, where she was already beginning
to earn enough for a good living. The man who was the cause of all the
mischief had emigrated, and meant never to return to Europe.
And Leah had taken my advice in the matter, and disclosed all to
Watts. He was not in the least put out by it, as she had feared he
would be; only told her she was a simpleton for not having told him
before.