He stood looking at me for a few moments and then went into another
room, where there was a policeman sitting at a desk, like a clerk, with
a big book before him. I could see him through the other doorway, and
they talked for a few minutes; and then Mr Revitts came back, and stood
staring at me.
"P'r'aps I'm a fool," he muttered. "P'r'aps I ain't. Anyhow, I'll do
it. Look here, youngster, I'm going to trust you, though as you've
absconded I ought to take you before a magistrate or the inspector, but
I won't, as you're a friend of my Mary."
"Thank you, sir," I said.
"And if you turn out badly, why, woe betide you."
"Please, sir, I won't turn out badly if I can help it; but Mr Blakeford
said I was good for nothing."
"Mr Blakeford be blowed! I wouldn't ask him for a character for a
dorg; and as for Mary, she don't want his character, and he may keep it.
I'll take her without. I wouldn't speak to any one like this,
youngster; but you know that gal's got a temper, though she's that good
at heart that--that--"
"She'd nurse you so tenderly if you were ill," I said enthusiastically,
"that you wouldn't wish to be better."
He held out his hand and gave mine a long and solemn shake.
"Thankye, youngster," he said, "thankye for that. You and I will be
good friends, I see. I _will_ trust your word, hang me if I don't.
Here, come along."
"Are you--are you going to take me up, sir?" I faltered, with a shiver
of apprehension.
"I'm a-going to give you the door-key where I lodges, my lad. I'm on
night duty, and shan't be home till quarter-past six, so you may have my
bed and welcome. Now, look here," he said, "don't you go and let
anybody fool you. I'm going to show you the end of a long street, and
you'll go right to the top, then turn to the right along the road till
you come to the fourth turning, and on the right-hand side, number
twenty-seven, is where I lodges. Here's the key. You puts it in the
lock, turns it, shuts the door after you, and then goes gently upstairs
to the second-pair back."
"Second-pair back, sir?" I said dubiously.
"Well there, then, to the back room atop of the house, and there you may
sleep till I come. Now then, this way out."
It was a change that I could not have believed in, and I accompanied the
constable wonderingly as he led me out of the police-station and through
several dark-looking streets, till he stopped short before a long dim
vista, where straight before me two lines of gaslights stretched right
away till they seemed to end in a bright point.
"Now, then," he said, "you can't make any mistake there."
"No, sir."
"Off you go then to the top, and then you'll find yourself in a big
road."
"Yes, sir."
"Turn to the right, and then count four streets on the right-hand side.
Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Go down that street about halfway, till you see a gaslight shining on a
door with number twenty-seven upon it. Twenty-seven Caroline Street.
Now, do you understand? Straight up to the top, and then it's right,
right, right, all the way."
"I understand, sir."
"Good luck to you then, be off; here's my sergeant."
I should have stopped to thank him, but he hurried me away; and half
forgetting my weariness, I went along the street, found at last the road
at the end, followed it as directed, and then in the street of little
houses found one where the light from the lamp shone as my guide had
said.
I paused with the key in my hand, half fearing to use it, but summoning
up my courage, I found the door opened easily and closed quietly, when I
stood in a narrow passage with the stairs before me, and following them
to the top, I hesitated, hardly knowing back from front. A deep heavy
breathing from one room, however, convinced me that that could not be
the back, so I tried the other door, to find it yield, and there was
just light enough from the window to enable me to find the bed, on which
I threw myself half dressed, and slept soundly till morning, when I
opened my eyes to find Mr Revitts taking off his stiff uniform coat.
"Look here, youngster," he said, throwing himself upon the bed, "I
dessay you're tired, so don't you get up. Have another nap, and then
call me at ten, and we'll have some breakfast. How--how--" he said,
yawning.
"What did you say, sir?"
"How--Mary look?"
"Very well indeed, sir. She has looked much better lately, and--"
I stopped short, for a long-drawn breath from where Mr Revitts had
thrown himself upon the bed told me plainly enough that he was asleep.
I was too wakeful now to follow his example, and raising myself softly
upon my elbow, I had a good look at my new friend, to see that he did
not look so big and burly without his greatcoat, but all the same he was
a stoutly built, fine-looking man, with a bluff, honest expression of
countenance.
I stayed there for some minutes, thinking about him, and then about
Mary, and Mr Blakeford, and Hetty, and I wondered how the lawyer had
got on before the magistrates without me. Then, rising as quietly as I
could, I washed and finished dressing myself before sitting down to wait
patiently for my host's awakening.
The first hour passed very tediously, for there was nothing to see from
the window but chimney-pots, and though it was early I began to feel
that I had not breakfasted, and three hours or so was a long time to
wait. The room was clean, but shabbily furnished, and as I glanced
round offered little in the way of recreation, till my eyes lit on a set
of hanging shelves with a few books thereon, and going on tiptoe across
the room, I began to read their backs, considering which I should
choose.
There was the "Farmer of Inglewood Forest," close by the "Old English
Baron," with the "Children of the Abbey," and "Robinson Crusoe." Side
by side with them was a gilt-edged Prayer-book, upon opening which I
found that it was the property of "Mr William Revitts, a present from
his effectinat friend Mary Bloxam." On the opposite leaf was the
following verse:--
"When this yu see, remember me,
And bare me in yure mind;
And don't forget old Ingerland,
And the lass yu lef behind."
The Bible on the shelf was from the same source. Besides these were
several books in shabby covers--Bogatsky's "Golden Treasury," the
"Pilgrim's Progress," and the "Young Man's Best Companion."
I stood looking at them for a few minutes, and then reached down poor
old "Robinson Crusoe," bore it to the window, and for the fourth time in
my life began its perusal.
In a very short time my past troubles, my precarious future, and my
present hunger were all forgotten, and I was far away from the attic in
North London, watching the proceedings of Robinson in that wonderful
island, having skipped over a good many of the early adventures for the
sake of getting as soon as possible into that far-away home of mystery
and romance.
The strengthening of his house, the coming of the savages, the intensely
interesting occurrences of the story, so enchained me, that I read on
and on till I was suddenly startled by the voice of Mr Revitts
exclaiming:
"Hallo, you! I say, what's o'clock?"