CHAPTER X
FACT AND WONDER--CLASH
Uncle Felix paused over his last bit of bread and jam, Tim and Judycocked their ears up. Maria's eyes stood still a moment in the heavens,and the Tramp stopped eating. He picked up the butter and replaced itcarefully in his pocket.
"I know those steps," he murmured half to himself and half to theothers. "They're all over the world. They follow me wherever I go. Ihear 'em even in me sleep." He sighed, and the tone of his voice wasweary and ill at ease.
"How horrid for you," said Judy very softly.
"It keeps me moving," he muttered, trying to conceal all signs of facebehind hair and beard, which he pulled over him like a veil. "It's thePerliceman."
"The Policeman!" they echoed, staring.
"But he can't find you here!"
"He'll never see you!"
"You're quite safe inside the fence with us, for this is the End of theWorld, you know."
"He's not afraid--never!" exclaimed Judy proudly.
"He goes everywhere and sees everything," whispered the Tramp. "He'sbeen following me since time began. So far he has not caught me up, buthis boots are so much bigger than my own--the biggest, strongest bootsin the world--that in the hend he is bound to get me."
"But you've done nothing," said Judy.
The wanderer smiled. "That's why," he said, holding up a warningfinger. "It's because I do nothing. 'ush!" he whispered. The steps camenearer, and he lowered his voice so that the end of the sentence wasnot audible.
"'ide me," he said in a whisper. And he waved his arms imploringly,like the branches of some wind-hunted tree.
There was a tarpaulin near the rubbish-heap, and some sacking used forkeeping the vegetables warm at night. "That'll do," he said, pointing."Quick!--Good-bye!" In a moment he was beneath the spread blackcovering, the children were sitting on its edges, quietly eating morebread and jam, and looking as innocent as stars. Uncle Felix poked thefire busily, a grave and anxious look upon his face.
The steps came nearer, paused, came on again then finally stoppedoutside the gate. The flowing road that bore them ceased running pastin its accustomed way. The evening stopped still too. The silence couldbe heard. The setting sun looked on. Upon the crumbling wall the orangeflowers shook their little warning banners.
And there came a tapping on the wooden gate.
No one moved.
The tapping was repeated. There was a sound of drums about it. Theround brass handle turned. The door pushed open, and in the empty spaceappeared--the Policeman.
"Good evening," he said in a heavy, uncompromising way. He lookedenormous, framed there by the open gate, the white road behind him likea sheet. He looked very blue--a great towering shadow against thesunlight. It was very clear that he _knew_ he was a policeman and couldthink of nothing else. He was dressed up for the part, and receivedmany shillings a week from a radculgovunment to look like that. Itwould have been a dereliction of duty to forget it. He was stuffed withduty. His brass buttons shone.
"Good _evening_," he repeated, as no one spoke.
"_Good_ evening," replied Uncle Felix calmly. The Policeman accentuatedthe word "evening," but Uncle Felix emphasised the adjective "good."From the very beginning the two men disagreed. "This is privateproperty, very private indeed. We are having tea, in fact, privately,upon our own land."
"No property is private," returned the Policeman, "and to the Law nothing nor person either."
For a moment the children felt afraid. It seemed incredible that UncleFelix could be arrested, and yet things had an appearance of it.
"Kindly close the gate so that we cannot be overheard," he said firmly,"and then be good enough to state your business here." He did not offerhim a seat; he did not suggest a cup of tea; he spoke like a brave manwho expected danger but was prepared to meet it.
The Policeman stepped back and closed the gate. He then stepped forwardagain a little nearer than before. From a pocket, hitherto invisibleinside his belt, he drew forth a crumpled notebook and a stub ofpencil. He was very dignified and very grave. He took a deep breath,held the paper and pencil ready to use, expanded his chest till itresembled a toy balloon in the Park, and said:
"I am looking for a man." He paused, then added: "Have you seen a manabout?"
"About what?" asked Uncle Felix innocently.
"About fifty or thereabouts," replied the other. "Disguised in rags anda wig of hair and a false beard."
"What has he done?" It was like a game of chess, both opponents wellmatched. Uncle Felix was too big to be caught napping by cleverquestions that hid traps. The children felt the danger in the air, andwatched their uncle with quivering admiration. Only their uncle stoodalone, whereas behind the Policeman stretched a line of other policementhat reached to London and was in touch with the Government itself.
"What has he done?" repeated their champion.
"He's disappeared," came the deep-voiced answer.
"There's no crime in that," was the comment, given flatly.
"But he's disappeared with"--the Policeman consulted his notebook amoment--"a chicken and a roll of butter what don't belong to him--"
"Roll _and_ butter, did you say?"
"No, sir, roll _of_ butter was what I said." He spoke respectfully, butwas grave and terrible. "He is a thief."
"A thief!"
"He lives nowhere and has no home. You see, sir, duty is duty, andwe're expected to run in people who live nowhere and have no homes."
"Which road did he take?" Uncle Felix clearly was pretending in orderto gain time.
The man of law looked puzzled. "It was a roll of butter and a bird,sir," he said, consulting his book again, "and my duty is to run himin--"
"The moment you run into him."
"Precisely," replied the blue giant. "And, having seen him come in heresome time ago, I now ask you formally whether you have seen him too,and I call upon you to show me where he's hiding." He thrust one hugefoot forward and held his notebook open with the pencil ready."Anything you say will be used against you later, remember. You mustall be witnesses."
"_If_ you find him," put in Uncle Felix dryly.
"_When_ I find him," said the other. And his eye wandered over to thetarpaulin that was spread out beside the rubbish-heap. For it hadsuddenly moved.
Everybody had seen that movement. There was no disguising it. Feelinguncomfortable the Tramp had shifted his position. He probably wantedair.
"I saw it move," the Policeman growled, moving a step towards therubbish-heap. "He's under there all right enough, and the sooner hecomes out the better for him. That's all I've got to say."
It was a most disagreeable and awkward moment. No one knew quite whatwas best to do. Maria turned her eyes as innocently upon the tarpaulinas she could manage, but it was obvious what she was really looking at.Her brother held his breath and stared, expecting a pistol might appearand some one be shot dead with a marvellous aim, struck absolutely inthe mathematical centre of the heart. Uncle Felix, upon whom fell theburden of rescue or defence, sat there with a curious look upon hisface. For a moment it seemed he knew not what to do.
The Policeman, approaching still nearer to the tarpaulin, glared at him.
"You're an accessory," he said sternly, "both before and after thefact."
"I didn't say he _wasn't_ there."
"You didn't say he _was_," was the severe retort. It was unanswerable.
"He'll hang by the neck till he's dead," thought Tim, "and afterwardsthey'll bury the body in a lime-kiln so that even his family can'tvisit the grave." He looked wildly about him, thinking of possible waysof escape he had read or heard about, and his eye fell upon his sisterJudy.
Now Judy was a queer, original maid. She believed everything in theworld. She believed not only what was told her but also what shethought. And among other things she believed herself to be verybeautiful, though in reality she was the ugly duckling of the brood."All God has made is beautiful," Aunt Emily had once reproved her, and,since Go
d had made everything, everything must be beautiful. It was.God had made her too, therefore she was simply lovely. She enjoyednumerous romances; one romance after another flamed into her puzzledlife, each leaving her more lovely than it found her. She was alsoinvariably good. To be asked if she was good was a blundering questionto which the astonished answer was only an indignant "Of course." And,similarly, all she loved herself was beautiful. Her romances hadincluded gardeners and postmen, stable-boys and curates, age of noparticular consequence provided they stimulated her creativeimagination. And the latest was--the Tramp.
Something about the woebegone figure of adventure had set on fire hermother instinct _and_ her sense of passionate romance. She saw himyoung, without the tangled beard, without the rags, without thedilapidated boots. She saw him in her mind as a warrior hero, stormingdifficulty, despising danger, wandering beneath the stars, a beingresplendent as a prince and fearless as a deity. He was a sun of themorning, and the dawn was in his glorious blue eyes.
And Tim now saw that this sister of his, alone of all the party, wasabout to do something unexpected. She had left her place upon thefallen trunk and stepped up in front of the Policeman.
"Stand aside, missy," this individual said, and his voice was rough,his gesture very decided. It was, in fact, his "arresting" manner. Hewas about to do his duty.
"Just wait a moment," said Judy calmly; and she placed herself directlyin his path, her legs apart, her arms akimbo on her hips. "You say theman you want to find is old and ragged and looks like a tramp?"
"That's it," replied the Policeman, greatly astonished, and pausing amoment in spite of himself. "You'll see him in a moment. Jest help meto lift a corner o' this 'ere tarpaulin, and I'll show him to you." Hepushed her deliberately aside.
"All right," said Judy, her eyes shining brilliantly, her gesturestouched with a confidence that surprised everybody into silence, "butfirst I want to tell you that the person underneath this old sheetthing is not a tramp at all--"
"You don't say so," interrupted the other, half impudently, halfsarcastically. "What is he then, I'd like to know?"
The girl drew herself up and looked the great blue figure straight inthe eyes.
"He's my brother," she said, in a clear strong voice, "and he's not athief."
"Your brother!" repeated the man, a trifle taken aback. He guffawed.
"He's young and noble," she went on, half singing the words in herexcitement and belief, "and he's dressed all in gold. He walks likewind about the world, has curly hair, and wears a sword of silver. He'ssimply beautiful, and he's _got no beard at all!_"
"And he's your brother, is he?" cried the Policeman, laughing rudely,"and he jest wears all that get-up for fun, don't he?" And he stoopeddown and pulled the tarpaulin violently to one side.
"He is my brother, and I love him, and he is beautiful," she answered,dancing lightly round him and flinging her arms in the air to thecomplete amazement of policeman, Uncle Felix, and her brother andsister into the bargain. "There! You can see for yourself!"
The Policeman stood aghast and stared. He drew a long, deep breath; hewhistled softly; he pushed his big, spiked helmet back. He staggered."Seems there's a mistake," he stammered stupidly, "a kind of mistakesomewhere, as it were. I--" He stuck fast. He wiped his lips with histhick brown hand.
"A mistake everywhere, I think," said Uncle Felix sternly. "Yourmistake."
The two men faced each other, for Uncle Felix had risen to his feet.The children held back and stared in silence. They were not quite surewhat it was they saw. On Judy's face alone was a radiant confidence.
For, in place of the bedraggled and unkempt figure that had crawledbeneath the sheet ten minutes before, there rose before them allapparently a tall young stripling, clean and white and shining as afair Greek god. His hair was curly, he was dressed in gold, a silversword hung down beside him, and his beardless face and beauty in itthat made it radiant as a glad spring day. The sunlight was verydazzling just at that moment.
"You said," continued Uncle Felix, in a voice of deadly quiet, "thatthe man you wanted had a wig of hair and a beard--a false beard?"
The Policeman stared as though his eyes would drop out upon thetarpaulin. But he said no word. He consulted his note-book in a dazed,flustered kind of way. Then he looked up nervously at the astonishingfigure of the "Tramp." Then he looked back at his book again.
"And old?" said Uncle Felix.
"And old," repeated the officer thickly, poring over the page.
"About fifty, I think, you mentioned?"
"'Bout fifty--did I?" He said it faintly, like a man not sure of alesson he ought to know by heart.
"Disguised into the bargain!" Uncle Felix raised his voice till itseemed to thunder out the words.
"Them was my instructions, sir," the man was heard to mumble sulkily.
Uncle Felix, to the children's immense delight and admiration, took astep nearer to the man of law. The latter moved slowly backwards,glancing half fiercely, half suspiciously at the glorious figure of theperson he had expected to arrest as a dangerous thief and tramp.
"And, following what you stupidly call your instructions," cried UncleFelix, looking sternly at him, "you have broken in our gate, trespassedon our private property, disturbed our guests, and removed forcibly ourtarpaulin from its rightful place."
The crestfallen and amazed Policeman gasped and raised his hands with agesture of despair. He looked like a ruined man. Had there been ahandkerchief in his bulging coat, he must have cried.
"And you call yourself an Officer of the Law?" boomed the Defender ofPersonal Liberty. He went still nearer to him. His voice, to thechildren, sounded simply magnificent. "A uniformed and salariedrepresentative of the Government of England!"
"Oo calls me orl that?" asked the wretched man in a trembling tone. "Igets twenty-five shillings a week, and that's orl I know."
There came a pause then, while the men faced each other.
"Uncle, let him go, please," said Judy. "He couldn't help it, you know.And he's a married man with a family, I expect. Some day--"
A forgiving smile softened the features of both men at these gentlewords.
"This time, then," said Uncle Felix slowly, "I won't report you; butdon't let it occur again as long as you live. A day will come, perhaps,when you will understand. And here," he added, holding out his handwith something in it, "is another shilling to make it twenty-six. Iadvise you--if you're still open to friendly advice--to buy a pair ofglasses with it."
The discredited official took the shilling meekly and pocketed it withhis note-book. He cast one last hurried glance of amazement andsuspicion at the man who had been beneath the tarpaulin, and began toslink back ignominiously towards the gate. At the last minute he turned.
"Good _evenin'_," he said, as he vanished into the road.
"_Good_ evening," Uncle Felix answered him, as he closed the gatebehind him.
Then, how it happened no one knew exactly. Judy, walking up to theshining figure, took him by the hand and led him slowly through thegate on to the long white road. There was a blaze of sunset pouringthrough the trees and the shafts of slanting light made it difficult tosee what every one was doing. In the general commotion he somehowvanished. The gate was closed. Judy stood smiling and triumphant justinside upon the mossy path.
"You saved his life," said some one.
"It's all right," she said--and burst into tears.
But children are not much impressed by the tears of others, knowing toowell how easily they are produced and stopped. Tim went burrowing tofind the bird, and Maria just mentioned that the Tramp had taken thebutter away in his pocket. By the time this fact was thoroughlyestablished the group was ready to leave, the tea-things all collected,the fire put out, and the sun just dipping down below the top of theold grey fence.
Then, and not till then, did the affair of the Tramp come underdiscussion. What seemed most puzzling was why the Policeman had notarrested him after all. They could not make it out at
all; it seemed amystery. There was something quite unusual about it altogether. UncleFelix and Judy had been wonderful, but--
"Did you see him blink," said Tim, "when Judy went up and gave it himhot?"
"Yes," observed Maria, who had done nothing herself but stare. "I did."
The brother, however, was not so sure. "I think he really believedher," he declared with assurance, proud of her achievement. "He reallysaw him young and with a sword and curly hair and all that."
Judy looked at him with surprise. Her tears had ceased flowing by thistime.
"Of course," she said. "Didn't _you?_" There was pain in her voice inaddition to blank astonishment.
"Of course we did," said Uncle Felix quickly with decision. "Of coursewe did."
As they went into the house, however, Uncle Felix lingered behind amoment as though he had forgotten something. His face wore a puzzledexpression. He seemed a little bewildered. He walked into the hat-rackfirst, then into the umbrella-stand, then stopped abruptly and put hishand to his head.
"Headache?" asked Tim, who had been watching him.
His uncle did not hear the question, at least he did not answer.Instead he pulled something hurriedly out of his waistcoat pocket, heldit to his ear, listened attentively a moment, and then gave a suddenstart.
"What is it, Uncle?"
"Oh, nothing," was the reply; "my watch has stopped, that's all." Hestood still a moment or two, reflecting deeply. His eyebrows went upand down. He pursed his lips. "Odd," he continued, half to himself;"I'm sure I wound it up last night...!" he added, "it's going againnow. It stopped--only for a moment!"
"Aha," said Tim significantly, and looked about him. He waitedbreathlessly for something more to happen. But nothing did happen--justthen.
Only, when at last Uncle Felix looked down, their eyes met and a flashof knowledge too enormous ever to be forgotten passed noiselesslybetween the two of them.
"Perhaps...!" murmured his uncle.
"I wonder...!"
That was all.