Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source: Haithi Trust Org. images digitized by Google
(original from University of Wisconsin)
IN QUEER STREET
BY
FERGUS HUME
AUTHOR OF
"THE MYSTERY OF A HANSOM CAB," "THE PINK SHOP,"
"ACROSS THE FOOTLIGHTS," "SEEN IN THE SHADOW,"
ETC., ETC.
LONDON
F. V. WHITE & CO., LTD.
17, BUCKINGHAM STREET, STRAND, W.C.
1913
CONTENTS
CHAP.
I. THE BOARDING-HOUSE
II. OLD SCHOOL-FELLOWS
III. MAN PROPOSES
IV. THE ADVERTISEMENT
V. THE NEXT STEP
VI. SEEKING TROUBLE
VII. AN AMAZING DISCOVERY
VIII. FAMILY HISTORY
IX. GWEN
X. VANE'S AUNT
XI. MACBETH'S BANQUET
XII. CUPID'S GARDEN
XIII. DANGER
XIV. AT BAY
XV. A FRIEND IN NEED
XVI. EXPLANATIONS
XVII. BLACKMAIL
XVIII. HENCH'S DIPLOMACY
XIX. A DENIAL
XX. REAPING THE WHIRLWIND
XXI. THE SUNSHINE OR LIFE
IN QUEER STREET
IN QUEER STREET
CHAPTER I
THE BOARDING-HOUSE
"Here," explained the landlady, "we are not wildly gay, as the serious
aspect of life prevents our indulging in unrestrained mirth. Each one
of us is devoted to an ideal, Mr. Spruce."
"And what is the ideal, Mrs. Tesk?" asked the twinkling little man who
was proposing himself as a boarder.
"The intention of gaining wealth in virtuous ways, by exercising the
various talents with which we have been endowed by an All-seeing
Providence."
"If you eliminate the word 'virtuous,' most people have some such
ideal," was the dry reply of Mr. Spruce. "I want money myself, or I
shouldn't come to live here. A Bethnal Green lodging-house isn't my
idea of luxury."
"Boarding-house, if you please," said Mrs. Tesk, drawing up her thin
figure. "I would point out that my establishment is most superior.
Brought up in scholastic circles, I assisted my father and my husband
for many years in teaching the young idea how to shoot, and----"
"In plain English, you kept a school."
"Crudely put, it is as you say, Mr. Spruce," assented the landlady;
"but habit has accustomed me to express myself in a more elegant way.
My husband and my father having been long numbered with the angelic
host, I was unable to continue successfully as a teacher of youth. A
learned friend suggested to me that an excellent income might be
derived from a high-class boarding-house. Therefore I rented this
mansion for the purpose of entertaining a select number of paying
guests."
"Paying guests! How admirably you express yourself, Mrs. Tesk."
"It has always been my custom to do full justice to our beautiful
language, Mr. Spruce. Even my establishment has a name redolent of
classic times. It is called--and not unfittingly I think--The Home of
the Muses."
"So I observed in your advertisement. Why not call this place
Parnassus? Then one word would serve for five."
"The suggestion is not without merit," said the former
school-mistress. "I perceive, Mr. Spruce, that you have some knowledge
of the classics."
"I was educated at Winchester and Cambridge, Mrs. Tesk. The Home of
the Muses--what a delightful name and how very appropriate."
Poor Mrs. Tesk having no sense of humour, did not understand that this
last remark was ironical, and smiled gravely in full approval. Spruce
screwed in his eye-glass, and glanced with a shrug at his
surroundings. These were scarcely calculated to satisfy a sybarite,
being extremely ugly, inartistic, well-worn and dingy. The room, of no
great size, was over-crowded with clumsy furniture made in the early
years of the nineteenth century, when solidity was much more valued
than beauty. What with six ordinary chairs, two armchairs, a
horse-hair sofa to match, a sideboard, a bookcase, and a fender-stool
all of mahogany, to say nothing of an Indian screen and a rosewood
piano, there was scarcely room to move. And everywhere appeared
patterns;--on the carpet, on the wall-paper, on the curtains and on
the table-cloth: the eye ached to find some plain spot, which was not
striped, or spotted, or scrolled, or dotted. The sole redeeming
feature of the dreadful apartment was that many years and constant use
had mellowed everything into a sober congruity, so that the whole
looked comfortable and homely. As the Home of the Muses, it was an
entire failure; as the sanctum of the sedate middle-aged woman in the
worn black silk gown, it was quite successful. And as there were many
out-of-date educational volumes in the bookcase, and as the walls were
decorated with samplers, water-coloured drawings, geographical maps,
and even with framed specimens of hand-writing, it could be easily
guessed that the apartment belonged to a retired school-mistress.
There was something quite pathetic in Mrs. Tesk's flotsam and jetsam,
which she had saved from the dire wreck of her superior fortunes.
And the landlady was as suited to the room as her visitor was
unsuited, for there could not be a greater contrast than the two
presented to one another. Mrs. Tesk belonged to a bygone age,
while Spruce had to do with the very immediate present. In her
shabby-genteel gown, which clothed a thin bony figure, and with a
severe parchment-coloured face, the former teacher of the young looked
very respectable indeed. Her mittens, her be-ribboned cap, her long
gold chain, her large brooch containing locks of hair, and her cloth
boots suggested the stories of Emma Jane Worboise and Mrs. Henry Wood.
She was prim, pedantic and eminently genteel, the survival of an epoch
when women wore full skirts and believed that their duty was to keep
house, rather than to smash windows. Spruce stared at her through his
eye-glass as he would have done at a prehistoric animal.
The would-be boarder was the last expression of man, as representing
the lily of the fields which toils not. He resembled a cherub and was
dressed like a Nut, that last variety of the masher, the swell, the
dandy and the buck. With his clean-shaven pink and white face, his
mild blue eyes, his smooth fair hair, little hands, little feet, and
general well-groomed aspect, he looked like a good boy thoroughly
acquainted with the Church Catechism. But his extravagant attire
suggested Piccadilly, music-halls, the Park and afternoon teas. He
wore a pale-green suit, the coat of which was made to show his waist,
and turned-up trousers, which revealed purple socks and brogues of
russia leather. His waistcoat was cut low, revealing a lavender-hued
shirt and a purple scarf painted with a portrait of a famous dancer;
and he held a green Trilby hat in his gloved hands, together with a
gold-headed cane and an unlighted cigarette, which he did not dare to
smoke in the severe presence of Mrs. Tesk. On the whole, Mr. Cuthbert
Spruce was a thing of beauty, and wore as many colours as Joseph did
when he put on his famous coat. He was the kind of male doll that
virile men long to kick but dare not lest they should smash the thing.
When he had completed his survey of the room and of Mrs. Tesk, the Nut
explained himself glibly. "I have come down here for a few months in
order to study character for a book. Until I write that book I am
rather hard up, so I should like to know if your terms are----"
"Twenty-five shillings a week," interrupted Mrs. Tesk solemnly. "No
one, not even the most captious, can call such terms expensive or
prohibitive."
"I certainly don't. In fact you ask so little that I am not sure if
you can make me comfortable at the price."
"Good food, a good bed and genteel society, Mr. Spruce. What more does
mortal man require, save a fire, which is not necessary, seeing that
summer is with us in all its annual glory?"
"I don't think much of its annual glory comes to Bethnal Green, Mrs.
Tesk. However, your terms will suit me, and I'll bring my boxes this
afternoon. I can have a bath, I suppose?"
"Sixpence extra if cold and one shilling if warm."
"A cold bath will suit me as it is summer. Have you a valet in the
house?"
"No, Mr. Spruce. Such a menial is only to be found in the houses of
the rich, as I understand from the perusal of novels read for
recreation. Here you will find plain living and high thinking. My cook
is an old servant, who is able to roast and boil healthy viands.
Amelia, who is sixteen, attends to the house-work, and there is the
boy, Simon Jedd--commonly called Bottles, which is a facetious
appellation given to him by a paying guest inclined to merriment. Such
is my staff."
"And the paying guests?" asked Spruce, who began to think that five
and twenty shillings was quite the top price to ask for such board and
lodging.
Mrs. Tesk coughed. "Our circle is limited at present to a chosen few,
as London is rather empty just now, on account of the summer season,
which attracts people to the green woods and the sounding sea. There
is Madame Alpenny, who is of Hungarian extraction, but who married an
Englishman; together with her daughter, Zara, a dancer of repute at
the Bijou Music-hall. I hesitated to accept the daughter as a paying
guest," added Mrs. Tesk loftily, "as my education scarcely permits me
to approve of the profession of Terpsichore."
"She was one of the Muses, you know," Spruce reminded her; "and as
this is the Home of those ladies----"
"Quite so," interrupted Mrs. Tesk in her most stately fashion. "That
fact may have biassed me in my permitting her to reside under my roof.
Also, not having many paying guests at present, the money was a
consideration, and humanity interdicted me from parting mother and
child; although I am bound to say that Madame Alpenny refused to come
if I did not take her daughter also. Finally I consented, and since
seeing Zara dance I have not regretted my yielding. She exhibits the
poetry of motion in a high degree and is quite respectable."
"Any other paying guests?"
"Mr. Edward Bracken--ordinarily termed Ned,--who plays the violin in
the Bijou orchestra with great delicacy, and Mr. Owain Hench, who is
at present absent, and will not return for a week."
Spruce rose and looked surprised. "Owain Hench. Will you spell his
first name, Mrs. Tesk? I fancy I know him."
Mrs. Tesk spelt the name slowly. "It is a Welsh title!" she said as
if Hench was a member of the House of Lords, "and the spelling is
peculiar. In history we are told of Owen Tudor, and Owen Glendower,
who signed their Christian appellations somewhat differently."
"It is the proper Welsh spelling," said Spruce, smiling. "He must be
the same fellow I used to know at Winchester. We used to rag him about
the queer way in which he spelt his name. Fancy Hench in this
galley"--and he looked disdainfully round the shabby room--"I thought
he was rich."
"I am not acquainted with the financial affairs of Mr. Hench," said
the landlady stiffly; "but I am quite certain that he is by no means
endowed largely with specie. Nevertheless he is a kind-hearted and
estimable young man, who will yet achieve fame and fortune, although
in what particular direction it is at present hard to say. He has
resided here for six months, so I can speak of his qualities with some
knowledge."
Spruce walked to the door. "I shall be glad to see Hench again," he
remarked lightly. "Well, Mrs. Tesk, you may expect me and my luggage
by four o'clock."
"I understand." Mrs. Tesk folded her hands and bowed graciously. "You
will be in time for afternoon tea, when I shall have the pleasure of
introducing you to Madame Alpenny, Mademoiselle Zara, and to Mr.
Edward Bracken. You will find us a happy family, Mr. Spruce, and I
trust you will never regret coming to stay in The Home of the Muses."
Spruce stifled a laugh and went out, lighting his cigarette and
putting his hat on in the hall. He was immensely amused with the
stately old-fashioned airs of the ex-school-mistress, and promised
himself some fun in drawing her out. He did not anticipate a rosy time
in the boarding-house, which was much too shabby and poor and
sordid for one of his pleasure-loving nature; but he felt that the
companionship of his old schoolfellow would enable him to pass the
time fairly pleasantly. In his explanation to Mrs. Tesk as to his
reason for coming to Bethnal Green, Mr. Spruce had not been entirely
truthful, but the excuse of gathering material for a book would serve
his purpose. The truth was that the Nut had been mixed up in a
gambling affair with which cheating had been connected, so he had
wisely determined to obliterate himself for a few months. Not being
able to go abroad or into the country by reason of a lean purse, he
had made up his mind to rusticate in Bethnal Green, and hoped that when
the scandal was ended he could return to the West End. In the meantime,
he was safe from observation, as no one would ever suspect that he was
in London, so near and yet so far from civilization. He intended to give
to Hench the same excuse as he had already given to Mrs. Tesk, and had
no doubt but what it would be accepted. Hench, as he considered, was
smart in many ways and the reverse in a few. While at Winchester he
had been considered clever, but always over-confident that others were
as honourable as himself, a belief which led to his being taken
advantage of on many occasions. Spruce had never been intimate with
Hench, as he belonged to a different set, but he was quite ready to be
intimate with him now in such a dull locality as Bethnal Green. The
cherubic little man by no means cared for the plain living and high
thinking to which Mrs. Tesk had alluded, as he preferred high living
and plain thinking, the latter having to do with thoughts of how to
kill time by amusing himself. It was not likely that Hench would be of
the same opinion, as from what Spruce remembered he had always been a
solid sort of chap. Of course, it was eight years since the Nut had
seen the young man, but if living in The Home of the Muses denoted his
status, it was probable that he would be more solid than ever. And
solid in the opinion of Mr. Spruce meant woeful dullness and
pronounced common-sense. Therefore he scarcely anticipated that Hench
would prove to be an ideal companion.
However, owing to the trouble in the West End, Spruce had to make the
best of things, and duly arrived at the appointed time with his five
boxes. People did not usually come to Mrs. Tesk's establishment with
so much luggage, but Spruce being a Nut, and eminently fashionable,
required many clothes to set off his rather mean little person.
Amelia, the maid-of-all-work, and Jedd, who was facetiously called
"Bottles," helped the cabman to carry up the many trunks to the
new-comer's bedroom, and looked upon him with awe as the owner of such
costly paraphernalia. Mrs. Tesk was also pleased in her stately
fashion, as the arrival of such a quantity of luggage imparted dignity
in some mysterious way to her establishment. By four o'clock the new
paying guest had taken possession of his new abode, and was on his way
to the drawing-room to meet those already assembled under Mrs. Tesk's
hospitable roof. To do honour to the occasion, and to produce a good
impression, Spruce had changed into a brand-new suit, and looked like
Solomon-in-all-his-glory when he entered the stuffy apartment
grandiloquently termed the drawing-room. It was tolerably large and
less crowded with furniture than the sanctum of the landlady, but the
windows being closed and the day being warm, Spruce gasped when he
ventured in. It was like entering the coolest room of a Turkish bath.
"Allow me," said Mrs. Tesk in her deepest and most genteel voice. "Mr.
Spruce, permit me to introduce you to Madame Alpenny, to Mademoiselle
Zara Alpenny and to Mr. Edward Bracken. Madame Alpenny, Mademoiselle
Alpenny and Mr. Edward Bracken, permit me to introduce you to Mr.
Spruce, our new companion."
During the landlady's long-winded introduction the Nut bowed to the
several people mentioned and swiftly noted their outward looks. The
Hungarian lady, who had married an Englishman, was a very stout woman,
slightly taller than Spruce himself, which was not saying much, and
the remains of former beauty were apparent in her face if not in her
figure. It is true that her complexion was sallow and her hair an
unpleasant red, but she had finely-cut features and splendid eyes,
dark, eloquent and alluring. She wore a dark dress spotted with orange
circles, a loose black velvet mantle trimmed with beads, and a large
floppy picture-hat, together with many costly bracelets, rings,
chains, brooches and lockets. Evidently she carried her fortune on her
person for security, and looked like a walking jeweller's shop. Spruce
saw at a glance that she was a lady, although why she should wear such
shabby clothes and live in such a shabby place when she possessed such
valuable ornaments he could not say. Privately he decided that she
looked interesting, and determined to find out all about her during
his stay in the boarding-house.
"You will find us very quiet here," observed Madame Alpenny in
excellent English, and smiling with very white teeth at the
new-comer's resplendent appearance; "it will be dull in these parts
for a young gentleman."
"Oh, I can make myself at home anywhere, Madame," replied Spruce,
accepting a cup of very weak tea from Mrs. Tesk. "My visit here is
only to collect material for a novel."
"I read the stories of my countryman, Maurus Jokai," said Madame with
a nod. "You write like him. Is it not so?"
"By no means. I know nothing of Maurus Jokai."
"Gaszynski! Morzycka! Zmorski! Mukulitch! Riedl! Vehse?" the foreign
lady ran off these difficult names of Polish, Russian and Hungarian
authors still smiling; "you know them. Eh? What?"
"Never heard of them Madame. They sound like names out of the Book of
Numbers to me. I am a very ignorant person, as you will find."
"Ah, say not so, Mr. Spruce. You like amusement perhaps. The dance,
the cricket, the five o'clock tea? Tell me."
"All those things are more in my line. I hear from Mrs. Tesk that your
daughter dances?"
"Ah, yes. Zara?"
"I am at the Bijou Music-hall just now in a Fire-dance," said the girl
in an indifferent manner, for Spruce had not made the same impression
on her as he had on her mother; "and Mr. Bracken here is in the
orchestra."
"Second-violin," growled Bracken, who was paying great attention to
the thin bread and butter. "Hard work and bad pay"--he stole a glance
at the dancer--"but I have my compensations."
The look was sufficient to make Spruce understand that the young man
was in love with Zara, just as the frown of Madame Alpenny, who had
intercepted the look, showed him the mother's disapproval. The dancer
was a tall and rather gaunt girl, handsome in a bold gipsy flamboyant
way, with flashing dark eyes and a somewhat defiant manner, while the
violinist was roughly good-looking, and seemed to pay very little
attention to his dress. Evidently a romance was in progress here, and
Spruce promised himself some amusement in watching the efforts--which
he was sure were being made--of the mother to keep the lovers apart.
"You see," said Mrs. Tesk complacently, "we have many talents
assembled here, Mr. Spruce. Mademoiselle Zara indulges in the light
fantastic toe; Mr. Bracken is devoted to the noble art of music, and
Madame Alpenny is conversant with the literature of foreign nations,
which is natural considering her nationality. In my own person, I
represent the English element of letters, and if you enjoy heart to
heart talks, I am prepared to discuss poetry with you from Dan Chaucer
down to Robert Browning."
"Thanks very much," said the new guest hastily and scarcely relishing
the prospect; "but my doctor won't let me read much, as my health is
not very good. But I daresay," he added, glancing round at the queer
set he found himself amongst, "we can get up a game of bridge
occasionally."
"Ah, but certainly," cried Madame with vivacity and her splendid eyes
flashed; "for my part I delight in cards!"
"My preference is for Patience," said Mrs. Tesk solemnly. "I find it
relieves the strain on my mind. So long as the stakes are not very
high, Mr. Spruce, I shall be delighted to join you and Madame and
Mademoiselle Zara in a friendly game. Oh, you will not find us dull, I
think. And when Mr. Owain Hench returns he will be able to inform you
about many parts of the world not usually accessible to the ordinary
person."
Spruce rather resented Mrs. Tesk calling him an ordinary person, as he
considered that he was head and shoulders above the assembled company.
However, he did not allow any sign of annoyance at her density to
escape him, but uttered a little chuckling laugh of acquiescence.
"I'll be glad to see Hench again. He was always a good chap."
"Ah!" Madame glanced at her defiant daughter and then at Spruce; "it
appears, then, that you know Mr. Hench?"
"We were at school together."
"So! He is a charming young man."
Zara laughed meaningly. "With money mamma thinks that he would be
still more charming," she said significantly, and the sallow face of
Madame grew red.
"It is true," she admitted frankly. "When one has a daughter, one must
be careful of charming young men who are not rich. What do you say,
Mr. Spruce?"
"Well, I never had a daughter, so I can't say anything," replied the
little man, who was rapidly understanding many things. "And your
opinion, Mr. Bracken, if I may ask it?" He put the question advisedly,
as the mention of Hench's name had brought a scowl to the face of the
violinist.
"Money isn't everything," growled Bracken, passing his hand through
his rough hair, which he wore a trifle long, after the fashion of
musicians. "Hench is a good fellow, and being clever will be rich some
day."
"Ah! no"--Madame Alpenny shook her head vehemently--"he is too--what
you call--careless of money. He is idle; he is a mystery."
Spruce opened his pale blue eyes at the last word, and put in his
monocle to stare at the Hungarian lady. "There never was any mystery
about Hench at school," he observed rather puzzled. "He was always
rather a commonplace sort of chap."
"There is a mystery," insisted Madame more vehemently than ever. "I
have seen him before, but where--no, it is impossible to say."
"You don't mean to say that he is wanted by the police?" asked
Bracken.
"Don't speak like that!" cried Zara with a frown. "Mr. Hench is the
most honourable man in the world. There is nothing mean about him."
"He is all that is agreeable and polite," said her mother gravely;
"and but for one thing I have no fault to find with him. Still, I have
seen him somewhere, that young gentleman; he has a history!"
"History! mystery! You jump to conclusions, mamma."
"Zara, my father was a diplomatist, and I am observant."
"Suspicious, I should say," remarked Bracken under his breath.
But low as he spoke the woman heard him. "Of some people I am,"
she said with a dark glance, which revealed that she was not so
good-humoured as she looked.
Zara rose with a swing of her skirts and looked as graceful and as
dangerous as a pantheress. "I am going to lie down," she observed
rather irrelevantly. "I always lie down, Mr. Spruce, so as to prepare
for the fatigues of the night. If you ask Mr. Bracken he will take you
to the smoking-room."
"Oh, thanks," gasped Spruce, who did not wish to remain in the company
of the violinist, whom he privately termed a bounder; "but I am going
to my room to write letters."
"Fancy staying in to write letters on this beautiful day. Mr. Bracken
will be wiser, I am sure, and take a walk."
"You've hit it," said Mr. Bracken, taking out a well-worn briar pipe.
"I'm off for a breather." And he escorted Zara out of the room without
noticing Spruce, to whom he had taken a dislike.
Madame Alpenny half arose when she saw the two departing in company,
but sat down again with a frown. In a few minutes she walked to the
window and drew a sigh of relief on seeing Bracken standing on the
pavement lighting his pipe. Spruce guessed by this by-play that she
did not approve of the violinist being with her daughter, and became
more certain than ever that the romance he had conjectured existed.
Zara had got rid of Bracken, it was evident, so as not to leave him in
the company of her mother. Hence her mention that the violinist would
show Spruce the smoking-room, and her suggestion of a walk for Bracken
when the new guest refused the offer of tobacco. However, Madame now
seeing that the two were parted, returned to her seat satisfied, and
resumed her talk about Mr. Hench.
"You must tell me of your old schoolfellow," she said graciously; "he
is a young man I greatly admire. I study his character."
"An admirable character," said Mrs. Tesk loftily.
"I cannot help you, Madame, as I haven't seen Hench for years," said
Spruce.
"Ah indeed! You will find him very mysterious!" And she nodded
significantly.