Mr Hallett saw me right to the door of my lodgings before he left me,
shaking hands warmly as he said "Good-night," and altered it to
"Good-morning."
I was thoroughly awake now, and somewhat refreshed as I ascended the
stairs very gently, having risen now to the honour of a latchkey. It
was Revitts' turn for day-duty, and I was unwilling to disturb him, so I
had slipped off my boots, and cautiously turning the handle of the door,
I entered, to find, to my surprise, a light burning, and Mr Revitts
buttoned up in his uniform and with his heavy hat upon his head.
"Oh, here you are, then," he cried roughly.
"What, not in bed!" I said.
"In bed? How was I going to bed? I was just orf to the station to send
word round as you was missing, and to make inquiries where the vans went
from."
"Oh, Mr Revitts! Oh, Bill, I am sorry!" I cried.
"Don't you Bill me, young man," he cried. "Now, lookye here. Was it an
accident to the van as made you late?"
"No," I said; "it was--"
"There!" he cried, bringing his fist down heavily upon the table. "I
won't hear another word. I won't listen to you. Those vans was doo
back at ten thirty--say eleven, and it's now two forty-five."
"Yes, Bill, but--"
"Don't Bill me," he cried; and, running to the corner of the room, he
caught up a black silver-topped cane, with shabby silk tassels. "Look
here," he said; "for the last hour or two I've been thinking whether, as
your best friend, I oughtn't to give you a good wilting down, only
you're such a man now that I can't stoop to hit the feller as I've made
my friend."
"But will you listen to me, Bill?" I cried angrily.
"No, I won't," he said, throwing down the cane. "You've been up to your
larks, you have, and I tell you what it is, I won't have larks."
"I haven't," I cried.
"You have, sir, so don't deny it. What am I to say to my Mary when she
comes up, if she finds you going wrong? I won't have larks, so there's
an end of it, d'ye hear? There, you needn't look sulky, and you won't
go and lodge somewhere else. You'll stay here and I won't have no
larks. I know what it means; I've seen boys begin with stopping out o'
nights, and I know what sort o' chickens they turn out. Stopping out
late o' nights an' larks means going to the bad; and you ain't going to
the bad if I know it."
"I couldn't help it, Bill; I've been along with Mr Hallett."
"Then I'll punch Mr Hallett's head," he cried in a rage, as he stamped
up and down the room, till some one rapped at the ceiling of the floor
below. "No, I won't. I'll pay him a visit in full uniform with my
bracelet on, that's what I'll do with him."
"Don't be so foolish, Bill," I cried, as in imagination I saw Mr
Revitts stalking along amongst the frames at the office, as if about to
take Mr Hallett into custody.
"Foolish?" he cried. "And look here, once for all, don't you Bill me.
As for that Hallett, he's a bad 'un, that's what he is, and I'll let him
know--carrying on larks with a youngster like you."
"Mr Hallett's a gentleman," I said indignantly.
"Oh, is he?" said Revitts excitedly; "then I'd rather be a pore
police-constable. Why, I never so much as took you inside a public to
have half-a-pint o' beer, I was so particular over your morals; and your
precious gentleman takes you to dozens, and keeps you out till two
forty-five. Why, you make the whole room smell o' beer."
"I don't, Bill," I cried; "it's that hay. Look here, it's sticking to
my clothes."
"Then, what ha' yer been sleeping under haystacks for, when here was
your own bed waiting for you? That's the way. That's the first step to
being a rogue and a vagabond. Do you know, young fellow, as I could
have taken you and locked you up, and had you afore the magistrates next
morning, if I'd found you lying under haystacks?"
"What a dear old stupid you are, Bill," I cried, half angry, half
amused; for he had talked so fast and been in such a rage, that I could
not get a chance to explain.
"Am I?" he cried, just as if I had added fresh fuel to the flame. "If I
am--I'm honest, so now then. That's more than your Mr Hallett can say.
But I haven't done with him yet."
"Why don't you be quiet, Bill?" I said.
"Quiet, when you get out on larks?"
"You won't let me speak."
"Let you speak! No, I won't. Here have I been worried to death about
you, thinking all the chaps had got on, and that the van was upset, and
all the time it was your games."
"We went strolling about the forest, Bill," I said, as I removed my
stockings and bathed my sore feet, "and had to walk ever so much of the
way home, and that's what made me so late."
He snatched up my boots from where I had set them, and found that they
were covered with dust.
"But you said you'd been sleeping in the hay," he said stubbornly.
"Yes; on the top of a hay-cart, coming up to Whitechapel, and I went to
sleep."
Revitts began rubbing his ear in a puzzled way; and then, as if seized
by a bright idea, he took out his notebook and pencil.
"Now look here," he said, making believe to take down my words and
shaking his pencil at me in a magisterial way. "Why should you have to
walk nearly all the way home, because you went for a stroll in the woods
with that there Hallett?"
This last with a contemptuous emphasis on the name of my companion.
"Why, I told you, Bill. When we got back to the inn the last van had
gone."
"There; now, you're shuffling," he said. "You never said a word about
the van being gone."
"Didn't I, Bill? Well, I meant to say so. Mr Hallett thought it would
be much nicer to go for a walk in the woods than to sit in that hot room
where the men were drinking and smoking, so we did, only we stopped too
long."
Revitts shut his pocket-book with a snap, scratched his head with the
end of his pencil, wetted the point between his lips, and had another
scratch; then pushed the pencil into the loop at the side, replaced the
book in his breast, and buttoned it up tight, as he stood staring hard
at me. Then he coughed behind his hand, rubbed his ear again,
unbuttoned his coat, buttoned it up tightly, cleared his throat again,
and then said:
"Well, it was circumstantial evidence, cert'nly."
"It's too bad, Bill," I said, in an injured tone; "you had no business
to doubt me."
"More I hadn't, old lad," he replied in a deprecating way. "But you
know, Ant'ny, I had been a-sitting here wait-wait-waiting and thinking
all sorts o' things."
"Why didn't you go to bed?"
"I'd been thinking, old lad, that being a holiday, you might be hungry,
and look here."
He opened the little cupboard and took out a raised pork pie and a
bottle of pale ale.
"I'd got the cloth laid and the knives and forks out ready, but I got in
such a wax about one o'clock that I snatched 'em all off and cleared 'em
away."
"And why did you get in a wax, Bill?" I said. "You ought to have known
me better."
"So I ought, old lad," he said penitently; "but I got thinking you'd
chucked me over, and was out on larks with that there Hallett; and it
ain't nice to be chucked over for a chap like that, specially when you
seem to belong to me. You'll shake hands, won't you, Tony?"
"Of course I will."
"And I won't doubt you another time; let's have the pie, after all."
We did; and in a dozen ways the good fellow strove to show me his sorrow
for his past doubts, picking me out the best bits of the pie, foaming up
my glass with the ale, and when I expressed my fears of not being awake
in time for the office, he promised to call me; and though he never
owned to it, I have good reason for believing that he sat up writing out
corrections in an old dictation lesson, calling me in excellent time,
and having the breakfast all ready upon the table.