I let the book fall in a shamefaced way as my host took a great, ugly
old silver watch from beneath his pillow, looked at it, shook it, looked
at it again, and then exclaimed:
"It's either 'levin o'clock or else she's been up to her larks. Hush!"
He held up his hand, for just then a clock began to strike, and we both
counted eleven.
"Then she was right for once in a way. Why didn't you call me at ten?"
"I forgot, sir. I was reading," I faltered; for I felt I had been
guilty of a great breach of trust.
"And you haven't had no breakfast," he said, dressing himself quickly,
and then plunging his face into the basin of water, to splash and blow
loudly, before having a most vigorous rub with the towel. "Why, you
must be as hungry as a hunter," he continued, as he halted in what was
apparently his morning costume of flannel shirt and trousers. "We'll
very soon have it ready, though. Shove the cloth on, youngster; the
cups and saucers are in that cupboard, that's right, look alive."
I hastened to do what he wished, and in a few minutes had spread the
table after the fashion observed by Mary at Mr Blakeford's, while Mr
Revitts took a couple of rashers of bacon out of a piece of newspaper on
the top of the bookshelf, and some bread and a preserve jar containing
butter out of a box under the table. Next he poured some coffee out of
a canister into the pot, and having inserted his feet into slippers, he
prepared to go out of the room.
"Bedroom, with use of the kitchen, for a single gentleman," he said,
winking one eye. "That's me. Back in five minutes, youngster."
It must have been ten minutes before he returned, with the coffee-pot in
one hand and the two rashers of hot sputtering bacon in the other, when
in the most friendly spirit he drew a chair to the table, and saying,
"Help yourself, youngster," placed one rasher upon my plate and took the
other upon his own.
"I say, only to think of my mate coming upon you fast asleep in London,"
he said, tearing me off a piece of bread. "Why, if he'd been looking
for you, he couldn't ha' done it. Don't be afraid o' the sugar. There
ain't no milk."
I was very hungry, and I gladly began my breakfast, since it was offered
in so sociable a spirit.
"Let's see. How did you say Mary looked?"
"Very well indeed, sir," I replied.
"Send me--come, tuck in, my lad, you're welcome--send me any message?"
"She did not know I was coming, sir."
"No, of course not. So you've come to London to seek your fortune, eh?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where are you going to look for it first?" he said, grinning.
"I don't know, sir," I said, rather despondently.
"More don't I. Pour me out another cup o' coffee, my lad, while I cut
some more bread and scrape. Only to think o' my mate meeting you! And
so Mary looks well, does she?"
"Yes, sir."
"And ain't very comfortable, eh?"
"Oh no, sir! It's a very uncomfortable place."
"Ah, I shall have to find her a place after all! She might just as well
have said _yes_ last time, instead of going into a tantrum. I say,
come; you ain't half eating. I shall write and tell her I've seen you."
If I was half eating before, I was eating nothing now, for his words
suggested discovery, and my being given up to Mr Blakeford: when,
seeing my dismay, my host laughed at me.
"There, get on with your toke, youngster. If I tell Mary where you are,
you don't suppose she'll go and tell old Blakeford?"
"Oh no, sir! she wouldn't do that," I said, taking heart again, and
resuming my breakfast.
"And I say, youngster, suppose you don't say _sir_ to me any more. I'm
only a policeman, you know. I say, you were a bit scared last night,
weren't you?"
"Yes, sir--yes, I mean, I was very much afraid."
"Ah, that's the majesty of the law, that is! Do you know, I've only got
to go into a crowd, and just give my head a nod, and they disperse
directly. The police have wonderful power in London."
"Have they, sir?"
"Wonderful, my lad. We can do anything we like, so long as it's men.
Hundreds of 'em 'll give way before a half-dozen of us. It's only when
we've got to deal with the women that we get beat; and that ain't no
shame, is it?"
"No, sir," I said, though I had not the faintest notion why. "You're
quite right," he said; "it ain't no shame. What! Have you done?"
"Yes, sir--yes, I mean."
"Won't you have that other cup of coffee?"
"No, thank you."
"Then I will," he said, suiting the action to the word. "Well, now
then, youngster, what are you going to do, eh?"
"I'm going to try and find Mr Rowle's brother, sir, at a great
printing-office," I said, searching my pockets, and at last finding the
address given me. "Perhaps he'll help me to find a situation."
"Ah, p'r'aps so. They do have boys in printing-offices. Now, if you
were a bit bigger you might have joined the police, and got to be a
sergeant some day. It's a bad job, but it can't be helped. You must
grow."
"I am growing fast, sir," I replied.
"Ah, I s'pose so. Well, now lookye here. You go and see Mr Rowle, and
hear what he says, and then come back to me."
"Come back here?" I said, hesitating.
"Unless you've got somewhere better to go, my lad. There, don't you
mind coming. You're an old friend o' my Mary, and so you're an old
friend o' mine. So, for a week, or a fortnight, or a month, if you like
to bunk down along o' me till you can get settled, why, you're welcome;
and if a man can say a better word than that, why, tell him how."
"I--I should be very, very grateful if you would give me a night or
two's lodging, sir," I said, "and--and I've got six shillings yet."
"Then don't you spend more than you can help, youngster. Do you know
what's the cheapest dinner you can get?"
"No, sir--no, I mean."
"Penny loaf and a pen'orth o' cheese. You come back here and have tea
along o' me. I don't go on duty till night. There, no shuffling," he
said, grinning. "If you don't come back I'll write and tell old
Blakeford."
I could see that he did not mean it, and soon after I left my bundle
there, and started off to try if I could find Mr Rowle's brother at the
great printing-office in Short Street, Fetter Lane.