MR. DAVID SHELDRAKE COMES TO A SHREWD CONCLUSION.
Mr. David Sheldrake, smooth and bland in voice and manner, lingered
about the streets for several minutes. It was a beautifully clear
night, and he may have been inclined for meditation. His appearance
was sufficiently respectable for such an indulgence, and a policeman
who stood in the shadow of a doorway quietly observing him did not
think it necessary to interfere with him. He glanced up at the
first-floor window, and saw the shadow of a woman upon the blind. "I
wonder if that is her room," he thought. "What a little nugget she
is!" He wished that somebody would come to the street-door, that he
might ask if Lily lived on the first-floor; but no one came, and the
narrow street was still and quiet. "David," he said to himself, "that
girl's pretty face has quite bewitched you." He seemed to take
pleasure in the thought, and smiled to himself complacently. It was
evidently not the first time that he had been bewitched by a pretty
face. He took his cigar-case from his pocket, and, turning to a
doorway to obtain a light for his cigar, saw the policeman.
"A fine night, policeman," he said.
"Yes, sir," acquiesced the policeman civilly.
"Been on this beat long, policeman?"
"A considerable time, sir."
"Pretty quiet about here, isn't it?"
"Pretty quiet, sir. But we get enough trouble out there;" with a nod
of his head in the direction of the Royal White Rose Music-hall.
"Ah, I daresay. Saturday nights especially."
"As you say, sir; Saturday nights especially."
"A cigar, policeman?"
"No, thank you, sir; not allowed to smoke."
Mr. Sheldrake coughed, and the policeman coughed in sympathy.
"Can we get anything to drink about here, policeman?"
"Not to-night, sir," said the policeman somewhat stiffly.
"The houses shut at twelve, Saturday nights."
His two bribes having been refused, Mr. Sheldrake bethought himself of
another. But first he said, as he put his hand into his pocket,
"Who lives in that house opposite, policeman?"
"Quite a number of people, sir. Half a dozen families, I should say."
Here the jingle of money fell upon the policeman's ears. It produced a
curious effect upon him. He coughed a little cough, which might have
been interpreted, "Behold me, one of her Majesty's servants, always
ready to do my duty." Then he looked up at the sky, and down on the
pavement, and round on the houses, and anywhere but in the direction
where Mr. Sheldrake stood; murmuring at the same time dreamily, in a
soft musing tone,
"_Quite_ half a dozen families, I should say, sir."
As he murmured this, his hand may be said to have resembled a sly
rascal peeping round the corner, to find out things without wishing
to draw observation upon himself. Mr. Sheldrake's hand sought
that expressive hand, and found it in a lurking--not to say
slinking--position, hiding itself demonstratively in the cuff of the
policeman's coat. He slipped a piece of silver into it, and the jaws
of darkness instantly devoured it up. The policeman was evidently in
an unconscious state; for with the air of a man whose thoughts were
far away, he received the coin obliviously, and, in an absent manner,
conveyed it to the nearest pocket; then he coughed again, and assumed
the air of one just aroused from a little sleep.
The "open, Sesame," having been thus discreetly administered, Mr.
Sheldrake learned from the policeman as much as that functionary knew
concerning Lily. Yes, Lily was her real name; everybody about here
knew her, and everybody liked her--children especially. She _was_ very
pretty and very young: not more than nineteen, he should say. Yes, she
lived on the first-floor of that house. She sang at the Royal White
Rose Music-hall, you know; his missus had often heard her, and was
quite in love with her. So was a good many others--not women, you
know. But she was different from some other girls in that
establishment who lived about here. How different? O, better, you
know. Couldn't tell how long that would last; no more could any one
else. He had seen a good many stage girls commence well and end badly.
How badly? Well, fast, you know. It was enough to turn a girl's head;
the lights, the music, the dresses, and the lots of swells with money
hanging round 'em. Didn't think it would turn this one's, though. Any
relatives? O, yes, she had a brother. Younger than her? No, a couple
of years older, he should say; very much like her; come home late
sometimes; a little fast, the young fellow was. And a mother,
bedridden; the doctor often goes there. And a grandfather; a strange
old fellow--a character. Immortality Wheels, people call him. Was that
his proper name? O, no; nicknames both of 'em. Why Immortality? Well,
he didn't quite know himself, but he'd been told it was because the
old fellow was fond of talking about the immortality of the soul. Why
Wheels? Well, he _did_ know that. Because the old fellow was always
saying that everything in the world ought to go upon wheels. Perhaps
there was something in the notion; things certainly would go easier.
He _had_ heard that the old fellow had made wheels for everything in
his place. Harmless old fellow; but curious notion, wasn't it? So the
young fellow's a little wild, eh? Well, most young fellows are,
nowadays. Very fond of each other, brother and sister are.
While the policeman was distilling these scraps of information in a
leisurely manner, he and his companion were walking slowly towards the
Royal White Rose Music-hall, and just at the point of his asking
whether the old man's fancy was not a curious notion, they became
suddenly aware of a street disturbance in a thoroughfare not many
yards ahead of them.
The policeman strolled leisurely in the direction of the noise,
pulling his belt tighter as he neared the spot from which the sounds
proceeded. Presently they came upon an angry crowd of men and women of
all ages and degrees, most of whom, judging from their excited
demeanour and noisy exclamations, had a personal interest in the
disturbance. "Let 'em go! What do you mean by pushing people about?
Bonnet 'em! Great hulking fellows like you!" Then a woman's voice,
very shrill, "Who am _I_, interfering? I'm a honest woman, that's what
I am! Ain't I? I'll make you prove your words! You want the papers
down on you agin, that what _you_ want. We sha'n't move on! We'll stop
here as long as we like!" And in the midst of all a clear and angry
voice, crying, "Take your hands off me! Take your hands off me, I
say!" The voice acted like a charm upon Mr. Sheldrake; he made his way
into the centre of the crowd, and soon ascertained that it was nothing
but an ordinary street row common to the neighbourhood, caused in the
first place by two or three persons lingering on the footpath, and
being desired to move on, and perhaps touched on the shoulder by a
policeman. The principal offender, and the most violent, was a young
man with a handsome face, the sight of which produced on Mr. Sheldrake
the same effect as his voice had done. And yet it was the first time
that these two had ever met. Upon such slight chances often does the
future hang, that men who have fought life's battle with all their
trength, and been bruised and bruised, may sometimes be pardoned for
thinking that it is mockery to struggle.
At the moment of Mr. Sheldrake's appearance upon the scene, the young
man, in a state of great excitement was explaining to the people about
him that he was doing no harm; he was simply talking to a friend about
the Northumberland Plate, the race that was soon to be run at
Newcastle-on-Tyne, when the policeman pushed them into the road, and
said he would take them into custody if they stood there a moment
longer. The crowd cheered him as he spoke, and the police began to
lose their temper. The policeman who had accompanied Mr. Sheldrake,
and who fancied that that gentleman, from the interest he exhibited,
knew the offender, whispered to him, that if he wanted to save the
young fellow from getting into trouble, he had best get him away as
quickly as possible.
"Now, then, _will_ you move out of this?" exclaimed another official,
about to lay hands upon the young man; Mr. Sheldrake quietly stepped
between them, knowing that the touch of the policeman's hand would be
adding fuel to flame. But for Mr. Sheldrake's interposition it would
have fared ill with the young fellow, who had worked himself into a
most unreasonable passion.
"Come, come," said the peacemaker in a persuasive tone; "you don't
want to be locked up all night. The policemen have their duty to
perform, and you mustn't obstruct them."
"I don't want to obstruct them, and I don't want to be locked up,"
said the young man; "but what right had they to interfere with me and
my friends? Ask any one here if I was in the wrong."
A dozen voices supported him in various ways, all of them
uncomplimentary to the police, one of whom grew so exasperated that he
exclaimed, in a tone of dangerous decision, "Now, then, if you don't
move off this minute, we'll march you to the station-house." He
produced his stave, and the others followed his example. This action
caused many among the mob to take to their heels, and they scampered
away, hooting as they ran.
"They had _no_ business to interfere," whispered Mr. Sheldrake
hurriedly, placing his arm in that of the young man; "but don't you
see, that though you might have been in the right at first----"
"Might have been!" interrupted the unreasonable young fellow hotly. "I
was!"
"Well, although you _were_ in the right at first, you are in the wrong
now. Come, take the advice of a friend, and let us get out of this.
I don't like to see a young gentleman like you mixed up in such an
affair. Look at the riff-raff about. Where are your friends? Why,
_they've_ gone off, you see, and didn't mind leaving you in the
lurch.--All right, policeman, we're going."
Thus urging and humouring, Mr. Sheldrake induced the young man to move
with him through the throng of people, who were inclined to hoot him
now for showing the white feather. The excitement, however, being
over, they rapidly dispersed, grumbling at the peaceable issue of the
affair. Soon Mr. Sheldrake and his charge were in a quieter part of
the neighbourhood, when the latter, still almost at fever-heat, asked
offensively, as if it were absolutely necessary he should fall foul of
somebody,
"Perhaps you'll tell me who you are, interfering with my affairs. I
don't know you."
"I don't suppose you do," replied Mr. Sheldrake with perfect good
humour. "Are you going home?"
"What business may that be of yours?" asked the young man, not abating
his offensive tone.
"I'll walk a little way with you if you are, that's all. Shall I make
a shrewd guess, and say that you live in Soho? Come, come; I see
that you are angry with me for interfering; but you must admit that
the position you are in now is better than being hauled along by
half-a-dozen policemen, with a mob hooting at their heels. Come, now,
admit that."
"I sha'n't admit anything," exclaimed the young man sulkily.
An angry impatient look passed like a flash of light into Mr.
Sheldrake's face at the young man's uncivil manner: but he suppressed
it instantly. They were walking slowly as they conversed, and Mr.
Sheldrake, allowing his companion to lead the way, observed with
secret satisfaction that they were walking in the direction of Lily's
house.
"And neither should I, if I were in your place," he said. "I
should feel as indignant as you feel; it is only natural; but at the
same time, I think I should acknowledge to myself--not to any one
else--that it's better to be indignant and to cool oneself alone here
in the quiet streets, than to be dragged to the station-house, and
have the clothes torn off one's back. You were not born yesterday!
_You_ know what the police are, and how the magistrates side with
them. They'll swear anything when their blood's up; and there's never
any telling what kind of a scrape a man may get himself into with
them. I daresay you wouldn't like your people at home to see your name
on the wrong side of a police-court report."
"That's true," said the young man in a somewhat softer tone, though
still with constrained manner; "it wouldn't be a nice thing for them."
"Say that you had a sister now, how would she like it?"
As Mr. Sheldrake hazarded this question, he threw a sharp look at his
companion, and smiled in self-approval when he heard the reply.
"She wouldn't like it at all, and I wouldn't like it because of her."
He struggled to rid himself of his ungracious bearing, and partially
succeeded. "It seems to me, after all, that I have to thank you for
getting me out of the mess."
He held out his hand. Mr. Sheldrake shook it cordially, saying,
"A nice state of things it would be, if one gentleman wouldn't assist
another in such a case! Let us suppose that you are under an
obligation to me. Wipe it off by giving me a promise."
"What kind of a promise?" asked the young man.
"Why, that when you come upon me in a similar scrape to that I found
you in to-night, with my blood up, hot and naturally indignant, you'll
come and help me out of it as I've helped you. You'll see how I'll
take it! I shall be savage with you of course, at first, but give me
time to cool down, and you'll not find me backward in acknowledging
that you have acted by me and stood by me like an out-and-out friend."
The young man laughed and promised, but did not express himself
confident of being able to act as judiciously as Mr. Sheldrake had
done. "For you're cool, you know," he said, "and not so easily fired
up as I am. Why, if you had answered me as I've answered you, I
couldn't have helped quarrelling with you."
"I'm glad for one person's sake that I managed to escape that
unpleasant contingency," observed Mr. Sheldrake.
"Do you mean for your own sake?" asked the young man coolly.
"Not this time," replied Mr. Sheldrake, mentally confounding the young
fellow's impertinence.
"For whose, then, may I ask? Not for mine, I hope; if so, you may save
yourself from farther anxiety upon the point."
"O no, not for yours; for your sister's."
"For Lily's! You know her then; and that's the reason of your coming
to my assistance."
Mr. Sheldrake accepted this interpretation, and said,
"If you tell her of what has occurred to-night----"
"Of course I shall tell her," interrupted the young man. "I tell Lily
everything."
"You may mention, then, that the gentleman who had the pleasure of
walking home with her to-night did you a little service. She spoke of
her brother to-night as we walked home. Your name must be Alfred."
"Yes; that is my name."
"Mine is Sheldrake. I shall be glad to improve our
acquaintanceship--that is, if you are willing."
"O, I'm willing enough," replied Alfred half graciously; "but I'm not
a swell, you know."
"Meaning that I am. None the worse for that, eh?"
"No," said Alfred, throwing sufficient expression in his hesitating
manner of uttering that small word to express, "No, you're none the
worse for it; but I consider myself as good as you, or any man."
"And it isn't a bad thing to be a swell nowadays, let me tell you,"
remarked Mr. Sheldrake genially, clapping Alfred on the shoulder. "One
gets behind the scenes, and sees all sorts of things, and learns all
sorts of things. And after all it's only a question of money. Once a
gentleman, always a gentleman."
"That's true," assented Alfred complacently, being now on very good
terms with himself.
"Only a question of money," repeated Mr. Sheldrake, slowly and
thoughtfully; "and there's plenty of ways of making that."
"That's true again," exclaimed Alfred eagerly, accepting a cigar from
Mr. Sheldrake's cigar-case. "Plenty of ways. I know a way. I'm going
to make a heap."
"With a little luck and a little pluck, a man with brains--which
you've got, I'll be bound--can be as good as the best of them. He can
go up like a rocket."
Mr. Sheldrake did not carry the simile farther. The rocket being in
the clouds, it suited his purpose to leave it there. "Plenty of ways
of making money! I should think there were, indeed; and these are just
the times."
The speaker was evidently of the opinion that some of his words were
pearls of price, which should not be lost sight of. His utterances
just now seemed to be thickly studded with these pearls, for he
repeated thoughtfully, "Just the times."
"So they are--so they are. You know a thing or two, I see."
"Know a thing or two!" exclaimed Mr. Sheldrake, with modest
boastfulness. "Well, yes, I fancy I do."
"I can put you up to something good," said Alfred, with a furtive
glance at his companion, "if you like, and if you'll keep it quiet."
"Ay," returned Mr. Sheldrake, with an appearance of gratitude; "I'll
keep it quiet enough."
"Do you do anything in racing?"
"A little now and then. Between you and me, I made a good thing on the
Derby."
"I thought so!" cried the young fellow in an exultant tone. "I thought
you knew all about racing! I say, do you keep a book? Do you belong to
any of the Clubs? Let's take a turn up the street."
"But isn't it time for you to be in?" suggested Mr. Sheldrake, as if
unwilling to carry the conversation farther.
"No, no; it doesn't matter for a few minutes. Lily's sure to wait up
for me. Besides, I have a latch-key. I wish we could go and sit down
somewhere, and have a chat and a drink. But all the places are shut,
worse luck."
"Didn't I tell you that I was behind the scenes?" said Mr. Sheldrake
airily. "One never need be at a loss in London if he knows the ropes.
Now I'll be sworn there's a house ready to receive us within a hundred
yards of where we stand, although it is past one o'clock on Sunday
morning. I know others, but they are too far away." Alfred followed
every word with admiring interest. This man of the world, this swell
who was behind the scenes, and who seemed to know everything worth
knowing, was a superior being in his eyes. "Let us walk towards the
policeman. Don't be surprised; it will, be a pleasant meeting enough,
although your late experience might lead you to an opposite opinion."
"But why towards a policeman?" asked Alfred.
"He'll tell us of a house of entertainment, where we can have that
chat and a drink you proposed. If a thief wants to hide, let him hide
in a crowded city. If you want to do an illegal act, do it in the eye
of the law. As I'm going to do this, with of course a proper
application of the magic key."
Alfred thought his companion one of the most genial and brightest of
men, and inquired what Mr. Sheldrake meant by the magic key.
"Tip," replied that gentleman; "the greatest institution of the age.
Tip, the palm-tickler. If it hadn't been for that, how do you think I
could have got you out of your scrape to-night? I've travelled about
here and there, and I don't think there's a city in the world where
the institution of Tip is so thoroughly understood and appreciated as
in this very city of London. It will carry you anywhere, effect any
object, get you out of any scrape, if you know how to apply to it.
But it requires to be administered delicately, its nerves being very
fine."
In front of them they heard the policeman's measured step. From the
rear came the sounds of a man racing towards them. His hurried tread
sounded in the quiet night like the rattle of steam feet rushing
along. As they turned, the man passed them. He was panting for breath,
and his clothes seemed to have been hurriedly thrown on. His braces
were hanging loose, and he was struggling with his coat as he ran,
suggesting the idea that he was racing and dressing himself for a
wager. He did not notice the faces of the men as he passed them, but
Alfred recognised him, and cried, "Why, that's Mr. Gribble!" The next
moment Gribble junior was round the corner and out of sight, and the
calm footstep of the watchman of the night heralded Mr. Sheldrake's
friendly policeman. He touched his hat to Mr. Sheldrake, and while
that gentleman held brief conference with him, his slinking hand
asserted itself up his coat-sleeve, where it may be said to have
lurked, thirsting for Tip. The comedy, which had been so successfully
performed once before during the night, having been repeated
successfully, the policeman (awaking from another little sleep)
leisurely led the way, Alfred being in the rear. As they walked thus
in single file, Mr. Sheldrake's thoughts, put into intelligible
language, would have read thus: "That was a shrewd conclusion you came
to, David, when you heard this young cub's voice, and guessed that it
belonged to Lily's brother! A nice young fool he is! But he'll serve
your turn, David, with that little nugget--he'll serve your turn. Make
the pretty Lily grateful for having befriended her brother, and get
the young fool himself quietly in your hands, and the rosy-cheeked
apple falls plump into your open mouth, David--plump into your open
mouth!" The contemplation of the rosy-cheeked apple falling plump into
his mouth was so agreeable, that David Sheldrake smiled frequently,
and in a gay and airy manner blew a kiss in the direction of Lily's
house.
They paused at the side door of a house of entertainment, closed
according to the law, and the mystic summons of the policeman gained
them admittance.
"Let us have a quiet room, and some brandy-and-water," said Mr.
Sheldrake to the waiter who had opened the door, and who, with his
shirt-sleeves tucked up and his thick bull-neck, looked like a
prize-fighter. "Policeman, you'll come in and have a drink?"
"No objections, sir."
The liquor having been brought, the policeman treated his conscience
to "something hot," and departed to pursue his duties, ready at any
moment with his slinking hand to prove himself a worthy watchman of
the night and a proper guardian of the public peace.