The tall clock in the corner of the small living-room had just struckeight as Mr. Samuel Gunnill came stealthily down the winding staircaseand, opening the door at the foot, stepped with an appearance of greatcare and humility into the room. He noticed with some anxiety that hisdaughter Selina was apparently engrossed in her task of attending to theplants in the window, and that no preparations whatever had been madefor breakfast.
Miss Gunnill's horticultural duties seemed interminable. She snipped offdead leaves with painstaking precision, and administered water with thejealous care of a druggist compounding a prescription; then, with herback still toward him, she gave vent to a sigh far too intense in itsnature to have reference to such trivialities as plants. She repeated ittwice, and at the second time Mr. Gunnill, almost without his knowledge,uttered a deprecatory cough.
His daughter turned with alarming swiftness and, holding herself veryupright, favoured him with a glance in which indignation and surprisewere very fairly mingled.
"That white one--that one at the end," said Mr. Gunnill, with anappearance of concentrated interest, "that's my fav'rite."
Miss Gunnill put her hands together, and a look of infinitelong-suffering came upon her face, but she made no reply.
"Always has been," continued Mr. Gunnill, feverishly, "from a--from acutting."
"Bailed out," said Miss Gunnill, in a deep and thrilling voice; "bailedout at one o'clock in the morning, brought home singing loud enough forhalf-a-dozen, and then talking about flowers!"
Mr. Gunnill coughed again.
"I was dreaming," pursued Miss Gunnill, plaintively, "sleepingpeacefully, when I was awoke by a horrible noise."
"That couldn't ha' been me," protested her father. "I was only a bitcheerful. It was Benjamin Ely's birthday yesterday, and after we leftthe Lion they started singing, and I just hummed to keep 'em company. Iwasn't singing, mind you, only humming--when up comes that interferingCooper and takes me off."
Miss Gunnill shivered, and with her pretty cheek in her hand sat by thewindow the very picture of despondency. "Why didn't he take the others?"she inquired.
"Ah!" said Mr. Gunnill, with great emphasis, "that's what a lot more ofus would like to know. P'r'aps if you'd been more polite to Mrs. Cooper,instead o' putting it about that she looked young enough to be hismother, it wouldn't have happened."
His daughter shook her head impatiently and, on Mr. Gunnill making anallusion to breakfast, expressed surprise that he had got the heart toeat any-thing. Mr. Gunnill pressing the point, however, she arose andbegan to set the table, the undue care with which she smoothed out thecreases of the table-cloth, and the mathematical exactness with whichshe placed the various articles, all being so many extra smarts in hiswound. When she finally placed on the table enough food for a dozenpeople he began to show signs of a little spirit.
"Ain't you going to have any?" he demanded, as Miss Gunnill resumed herseat by the window.
"Me?" said the girl, with a shudder. "Breakfast? The disgrace isbreakfast enough for me. I couldn't eat a morsel; it would choke me."
Mr. Gunnill eyed her over the rim of his teacup. "I come down an hourago," he said, casually, as he helped himself to some bacon.
Miss Gunnill started despite herself. "Oh!" she said, listlessly.
"And I see you making a very good breakfast all by yourself in thekitchen," continued her father, in a voice not free from the taint oftriumph.
The discomfited Selina rose and stood regarding him; Mr. Gunnill, aftera vain attempt to meet her gaze, busied himself with his meal.
"The idea of watching every mouthful I eat!" said Miss Gunnill,tragically; "the idea of complaining because I have some breakfast! I'dnever have believed it of you, never! It's shameful! Fancy grudging yourown daughter the food she eats!"
Mr. Gunnill eyed her in dismay. In his confusion he had overestimatedthe capacity of his mouth, and he now strove in vain to reply to thisshameful perversion of his meaning. His daughter stood watching him withgrief in one eye and calculation in the other, and, just as he had puthimself into a position to exercise his rights of free speech, gave apathetic sniff and walked out of the room.
She stayed indoors all day, but the necessity of establishing hisinnocence took Mr. Gunnill out a great deal. His neighbours, in the hopeof further excitement, warmly pressed him to go to prison rather thanpay a fine, and instanced the example of an officer in the SalvationArmy, who, in very different circumstances, had elected to take thatcourse. Mr. Gunnill assured them that only his known antipathy to thearmy, and the fear of being regarded as one of its followers, preventedhim from doing so. He paid instead a fine of ten shillings, and afterlistening to a sermon, in which his silver hairs served as the text, waspermitted to depart. His feeling against Police-constable Cooperincreased with the passing of the days. The constable watched him withthe air of a proprietor, and Mrs. Cooper's remark that "her husband hadhad his eye upon him for a long time, and that he had better be carefulfor the future," was faithfully retailed to him within half an hour ofits utterance. Convivial friends counted his cups for him; teetotalfriends more than hinted that Cooper was in the employ of his goodangel.
Miss Gunnill's two principal admirers had an arduous task to perform.They had to attribute Mr. Gunnill's disaster to the vindictiveness ofCooper, and at the same time to agree with his daughter that it servedhim right. Between father and daughter they had a difficult time, Mr.Gunnill's sensitiveness having been much heightened by his troubles.
"Cooper ought not to have taken you," said Herbert Sims for the fiftiethtime.
"He must ha' seen you like it dozens o' times before," said Ted Drill,who, in his determination not to be outdone by Mr. Sims, was notdisplaying his usual judgment. "Why didn't he take you then? That's whatyou ought to have asked the magistrate."
"I don't understand you," said Mr. Gunnill, with an air of cold dignity.
"Why," said Mr. Drill, "what I mean is--look at that night, forinstance, when----"
He broke off suddenly, even his enthusiasm not being proof against theextraordinary contortions of visage in which Mr. Gunnill was indulging.
"When?" prompted Selina and Mr. Sims together. Mr. Gunnill, after firstdaring him with his eye, followed suit.
"That night at the Crown," said Mr. Drill, awkwardly. "You know; whenyou thought that Joe Baggs was the landlord. You tell 'em; you tell itbest. I've roared over it."
"I don't know what you're driving at," said the harassed Mr. Gunnill,bitterly.
"H'm!" said Mr. Drill, with a weak laugh. "I've been mixing you up withsomebody else."
Mr. Gunnill, obviously relieved, said that he ought to be more careful,and pointed out, with some feeling, that a lot of mischief was causedthat way.
"Cooper wants a lesson, that's what he wants," said Mr. Sims, valiantly."He'll get his head broke one of these days."
Mr. Gunnill acquiesced. "I remember when I was on the Peewit," he said,musingly, "one time when we were lying at Cardiff, there was a policemanthere run one of our chaps in, and two nights afterward another of ourchaps pushed the policeman down in the mud and ran off with his staffand his helmet."
Miss Gunnill's eyes glistened. "What happened?" she inquired.
"He had to leave the force," replied her father; "he couldn't stand thedisgrace of it. The chap that pushed him over was quite a little chap,too. About the size of Herbert here."
Mr. Sims started.
"Very much like him in face, too," pursued Mr. Gunnill; "daring chap hewas."
Miss Gunnill sighed. "I wish he lived in Little-stow," she said, slowly."I'd give anything to take that horrid Mrs. Cooper down a bit. Cooperwould be the laughing-stock of the town."
Messrs. Sims and Drill looked unhappy. It was hard to have to affect anattitude of indifference in the face of Miss Gunnill's lawlessyearnings; to stand before her as respectable and law-abiding cravens.Her eyes, large and sorrowful; dwelt on them both.
"If I--I only get a chance at Cooper!" murmured Mr. Sims, vaguely.
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To his surprise, Mr. Gunnill started up from his chair and, gripping hishand, shook it fervently. He looked round, and Selina was regarding himwith a glance so tender that he lost his head completely. Before he hadrecovered he had pledged himself to lay the helmet and truncheon of theredoubtable Mr. Cooper at the feet of Miss Gunnill; exact date notspecified.
"Of course, I shall have to wait my opportunity," he said, at last.
"You wait as long as you like, my boy," said the thoughtless Mr.Gunnill.
Mr. Sims thanked him.
"Wait till Cooper's an old man," urged Mr. Drill.
Miss Gunnill, secretly disappointed at the lack of boldness and devotionon the part of the latter gentleman, eyed his stalwart frame indignantlyand accused him of trying to make Mr. Sims as timid as himself. Sheturned to the valiant Sims and made herself so agreeable to that daringblade that Mr. Drill, a prey to violent jealousy, bade the company acurt good-night and withdrew.
He stayed away for nearly a week, and then one evening as he approachedthe house, carrying a carpet-bag, he saw the door just opening to admitthe fortunate Herbert. He quickened his pace and arrived just in time tofollow him in. Mr. Sims, who bore under his arm a brown-paper parcel,seemed somewhat embarrassed at seeing him, and after a brief greetingwalked into the room, and with a triumphant glance at Mr. Gunnill andSelina placed his burden on the table.
"You--you ain't got it?" said Mr. Gunnill, leaning forward.
"How foolish of you to run such a risk!" said Selina.
"I brought it for Miss Gunnill," said the young man, simply. Heunfastened the parcel, and to the astonishment of all present revealed apoliceman's helmet and a short boxwood truncheon.
"You--you're a wonder," said the gloating Mr. Gunnill. "Look at it,Ted!"
Mr. Drill was looking at it; it may be doubted whether the head of Mr.Cooper itself could have caused him more astonishment. Then his eyessought those of Mr. Sims, but that gentleman was gazing tenderly at thegratified but shocked Selina.
"How ever did you do it?" inquired Mr. Gunnill.
"Came behind him and threw him down," said Mr. Sims, nonchalantly. "Hewas that scared I believe I could have taken his boots as well if I'dwanted them."
Mr. Gunnill patted him on the back. "I fancy I can see him runningbare-headed through the town calling for help," he said, smiling.
Mr. Sims shook his head. "Like as not it'll be kept quiet for the creditof the force," he said, slowly, "unless, of course, they discover whodid it."
A slight shade fell on the good-humoured countenance of Mr. Gunnill, butit was chased away almost immediately by Sims reminding him of the chaffof Cooper's brother-constables.
"And you might take the others away," said Mr. Gunnill, brightening;"you might keep on doing it."
Mr. Sims said doubtfully that he might, but pointed out that Cooperwould probably be on his guard for the future.
"Yes, you've done your share," said Miss Gunnill, with a half-glance atMr. Drill, who was still gazing in a bewildered fashion at the trophies."You can come into the kitchen and help me draw some beer if you like."
Mr. Sims followed her joyfully, and reaching down a jug for her watchedher tenderly as she drew the beer. All women love valour, but MissGunnill, gazing sadly at the slight figure of Mr. Sims, could not helpwishing that Mr. Drill possessed a little of his spirit.
She had just finished her task when a tremendous bumping noise was heardin the living-room, and the plates on the dresser were nearly shaken offtheir shelves.
"What's that?" she cried.
They ran to the room and stood aghast in the doorway at the spectacle ofMr. Gunnill, with his clenched fists held tightly by his side, boundinginto the air with all the grace of a trained acrobat, while Mr. Drillencouraged him from an easy-chair. Mr. Gunnill smiled broadly as he mettheir astonished gaze, and with a final bound kicked something along thefloor and subsided into his seat panting.
Mr. Sims, suddenly enlightened, uttered a cry of dismay and, dartingunder the table, picked up what had once been a policeman's helmet. Thenhe snatched a partially consumed truncheon from the fire, and stoodwhite and trembling before the astonished Mr. Gunnill.
"What's the matter?" inquired the latter. "You--you've spoilt 'em,"gasped Mr. Sims. "What of it?" said Mr. Gunnill, staring.
"I was--going to take 'em away," stammered Mr. Sims.
"Well, they'll be easier to carry now," said Mr. Drill, simply.
Mr. Sims glanced at him sharply, and then, to the extreme astonishmentof Mr. Gunnill, snatched up the relics and, wrapping them up in thepaper, dashed out of the house. Mr. Gunnill turned a look of blankinquiry upon Mr. Drill.
"It wasn't Cooper's number on the helmet," said that gentleman.
"Eh?" shouted Mr. Gunnill.
"How do you know?" inquired Selina.
"I just happened to notice," replied Mr. Drill. He reached down asthough to take up the carpet-bag which he had placed by the side of hischair, and then, apparently thinking better of it, leaned back in hisseat and eyed Mr. Gunnill.
"Do you mean to tell me," said the latter, "that he's been and upset thewrong man?"
Mr. Drill shook his head. "That's the puzzle," he said, softly.
He smiled over at Miss Gunnill, but that young lady, who found himsomewhat mysterious, looked away and frowned. Her father sat andexhausted conjecture, his final conclusion being that Mr. Sims hadattacked the first policeman that had come in his way and was nowsuffering the agonies of remorse.
He raised his head sharply at the sound of hurried footsteps outside.There was a smart rap at the street door, then the handle was turned,and the next moment, to the dismay of all present, the red and angryface of one of Mr. Cooper's brother-constables was thrust into the room.
Mr. Gunnill gazed at it in helpless fascination. The body of theconstable garbed in plain clothes followed the face and, standing beforehim in a menacing fashion, held out a broken helmet and staff.
"Have you seen these afore?" he inquired, in a terrible voice.
"No," said Mr. Gunnill, with an attempt at surprise. "What are they?"
"I'll tell you what they are," said Police-constable Jenkins,ferociously; "they're my helmet and truncheon. You've been spoiling HisMajesty's property, and you'll be locked up."
"Yours?" said the astonished Mr. Gunnill.
"I lent 'em to young Sims, just for a joke," said the constable. "I feltall along I was doing a silly thing."
"It's no joke," said Mr. Gunnill, severely. "I'll tell young Herbertwhat I think of him trying to deceive me like that."
"Never mind about deceiving," interrupted the constable. "What are yougoing to do about it?"
"What are you?" inquired Mr. Gunnill, hardily. "It seems to me it'sbetween you and him; you'll very likely be dismissed from the force, andall through trying to deceive. I wash my hands of it."
"You'd no business to lend it," said Drill, interrupting the constable'sindignant retort; "especially for Sims to pretend that he had stolen itfrom Cooper. It's a roundabout sort of thing, but you can't tell of Mr.Gunnill without getting into trouble yourself."
"I shall have to put up with that," said the constable, desperately;"it's got to be explained. It's my day-helmet, too, and the night one'sas shabby as can be. Twenty years in the force and never a mark againstmy name till now."
"If you'd only keep quiet a bit instead of talking so much," said Mr.Drill, who had been doing some hard thinking, "I might be able to helpyou, p'r'aps."
"How?" inquired the constable.
"Help him if you can, Ted," said Mr. Gunnill, eagerly; "we ought all tohelp others when we get a chance."
Mr. Drill sat bolt upright and looked very wise.
He took the smashed helmet from the table and examined it carefully. Itwas broken in at least half-a-dozen places, and he laboured in vain topush it into shape. He might as well have tried to make a silk hat outof a concertina. The only thing that had escaped injury was the metalplate with the number.
"Why don't you mend it?" he inquired, at last.
"Mend it?" shouted the incensed Mr. Jenkins. "Why don't you?"
"I think I could," said Mr. Drill, slowly; "give me half an hour in thekitchen and I'll try."
"Have as long as you like," said Mr. Gunnill.
"And I shall want some glue, and Miss Gunnill, and some tin-tacks," saidDrill.
"What do you want me for?" inquired Selina.
"To hold the things for me," replied Mr. Drill.
Miss Gunnill tossed her head, but after a little demur consented; andDrill, ignoring the impatience of the constable, picked up his bag andled the way into the kitchen. Messrs. Gunnill and Jenkins, left behindin the living-room, sought for some neutral topic of discourse, but invain; conversation would revolve round hard labour and lost pensions.From the kitchen came sounds of hammering, then a loud "Ooh!" from MissGunnill, followed by a burst of laughter and a clapping of hands. Mr.Jenkins shifted in his seat and exchanged glances with Mr. Gunnill.
"He's a clever fellow," said that gentleman, hopefully. "You should hearhim imitate a canary; life-like it is."
Mr. Jenkins was about to make a hasty and obvious rejoinder, when thekitchen door opened and Selina emerged, followed by Drill. The snarlwhich the constable had prepared died away in a murmur of astonishmentas he took the helmet. It looked as good as ever.
He turned it over and over in amaze, and looked in vain for any signs ofthe disastrous cracks. It was stiff and upright. He looked at thenumber: it was his own. His eyes round with astonishment he tried it on,and then his face relaxed.
"It don't fit as well as it did," he said.
"Well, upon my word, some people are never satisfied," said theindignant Drill. "There isn't another man in England could have done itbetter."
"I'm not grumbling," said the constable, hastily; "it's a wonderfulpiece o' work. Wonderful! I can't even see where it was broke. How onearth did you do it?"
Drill shook his head. "It's a secret process," he said, slowly. "I mightwant to go into the hat trade some day, and I'm not going to give thingsaway."
"Quite right," said Mr. Jenkins. "Still--well, it's a marvel, that'swhat it is; a fair marvel. If you take my advice you'll go in the hattrade to-morrow, my lad."
"I'm not surprised," said Mr. Gunnill, whose face as he spoke was a mapof astonishment. "Not a bit. I've seen him do more surprising thingsthan that. Have a go at the staff now, Teddy."
"I'll see about it," said Mr. Drill, modestly. "I can't doimpossibilities. You leave it here, Mr. Jenkins, and we'll talk about itlater on."
Mr. Jenkins, still marvelling over his helmet, assented, and, afteranother reference to the possibilities in the hat trade to a man with aborn gift for repairs, wrapped his property in a piece of newspaper anddeparted, whistling.
"Ted," said Mr. Gunnill, impressively, as he sank into his chair with asigh of relief. "How you done it I don't know. It's a surprise even tome."
"He is very clever," said Selina, with a kind smile
Mr. Drill turned pale, and then, somewhat emboldened by praise from sucha quarter, dropped into a chair by her side and began to talk in lowtones. The grateful Mr. Gunnill, more relieved than he cared to confess,thoughtfully closed his eyes.
"I didn't think all along that you'd let Herbert outdo you," saidSelina.
"I want to outdo him," said Mr. Drill, in a voice of much meaning.
Miss Gunnill cast down her eyes and Mr. Drill had just plucked upsufficient courage to take her hand when footsteps stopped at the house,the handle of the door was turned, and, for the second time thatevening, the inflamed visage of Mr. Jenkins confronted the company.
"Don't tell me it's a failure," said Mr. Gunnill, starting from hischair. "You must have been handling it roughly. It was as good as newwhen you took it away."
Mr. Jenkins waved him away and fixed his eyes upon Drill.
"You think you're mighty clever, I dare say," he said, grimly; "but Ican put two and two together. I've just heard of it."
"Heard of two and two?" said Drill, looking puzzled.
"I don't want any of your nonsense," said Mr. Jenkins. "I'm not on dutynow, but I warn you not to say anything that may be used against you."
"I never do," said Mr. Drill, piously.
"Somebody threw a handful o' flour in poor Cooper's face a couple ofhours ago," said Mr. Jenkins, watching him closely, "and while he wasgetting it out of his eyes they upset him and made off with his helmetand truncheon. I just met Brown and he says Cooper's been going on likea madman."
"By Jove! it's a good job I mended your helmet for you," said Mr. Drill,"or else they might have suspected you."
Mr. Jenkins stared at him. "I know who did do it," he said,significantly.
"Herbert Sims?" guessed Mr. Drill, in a stage whisper.
"You'll be one o' the first to know," said Mr. Jenkins, darkly; "he'llbe arrested to-morrow. Fancy the impudence of it! It's shocking."
Mr. Drill whistled. "Nell, don't let that little affair o' yours withSims be known," he said, quietly. "Have that kept quiet--if you can."
Mr. Jenkins started as though he had been stung. In the joy of a case hehad overlooked one or two things. He turned and regarded the young manwistfully.
"Don't call on me as a witness, that's all," continued Mr. Drill. "Inever was a mischief-maker, and I shouldn't like to have to tell how youlent your helmet to Sims so that he could pretend he had knocked Cooperdown and taken it from him."
"Wouldn't look at all well," said Mr. Gunnill, nodding his head sagely.
Mr. Jenkins breathed hard and looked from one to the other. It was plainthat it was no good reminding them that he had not had a case for fiveyears.
"When I say that I know who did it," he said, slowly, "I mean that Ihave my suspicions."
"Don't call on me as a witness, that's all,' continued Mr. Drill."
"Ah," said Mr. Drill, "that's a very different thing."
"Nothing like the same," said Mr. Gunnill, pouring the constable a glassof ale.
Mr. Jenkins drank it and smacked his lips feebly.
"Sims needn't know anything about that helmet being repaired," he saidat last.
"Certainly not," said everybody.
Mr. Jenkins sighed and turned to Drill.
"It's no good spoiling the ship for a ha'porth o' tar," he said, with afaint suspicion of a wink. "No," said Drill, looking puzzled.
"Anything that's worth doing at all is worth doing well," continued theconstable, "and while I'm drinking another glass with Mr. Gunnill here,suppose you go into the kitchen with that useful bag o' yours and finishrepairing my truncheon?"
THE PERSECUTION OF BOB PRETTY