CHAPTER THIRTY.
CHANGES THE SCENE SOMEWHAT VIOLENTLY, AND SHOWS OUR HERO IN A NEW LIGHT.
The result of our hero's consultation with the scout was not quite assatisfactory as it might have been. Charlie had hoped that Hunky Benwould have been able to stay with Shank till he should return from theold country, but found, to his regret, that that worthy was engaged toconduct still further into the great western wilderness a party ofemigrants who wished to escape the evils of civilisation, and to set upa community of their own which should be founded on righteousness,justice, and temperance.
"You see, sir," said the scout, "I've gi'n them my promise to guide themwhenever they're ready to start, so, as they may git ready and call formy services at any moment, I must hold myself free o' other engagements.To say truth, even if they hadn't my promise I'd keep myself free tohelp 'em, for I've a likin' for the good man--half doctor, half parsonas well as Jack-of-all-trades--as has set the thing agoin'--moreover,I've a strong belief that all this fightin', an' scalpin', an' flayin'alive, an roastin', an' revenge, ain't the way to bring about good endseither among Red men or white."
"I agree with you heartily, Ben, though I don't very well see how we areto alter it. However, we must leave the discussion of that difficultyto another time. The question at present is, what hope is there of yourstaying here even for a short time after I leave? for in Dick Darvall'spresent condition of mind he is not much to be depended on, and Jacksonis too busy. You see, I want Shank to go out on horseback as much aspossible, but in this unsettled region and time he would not be safeexcept in the care of some one who knew the country and its habits, andwho had some sort of sympathy with a broken-down man."
"All I can say, Mr Brooke, is that I'll stay wi' your friend as long asI can," returned the scout, "an' when I'm obleeged to make tracks forthe west, I'll try to git another man to take my place. Anyhow, I thinkthat Mr Reeves--that's the name o' the good man as wants me an' is bosso' the emigrants--won't be able to git them all ready to start for someweeks yet."
Charlie was obliged to content himself with this arrangement. Next dayhe was galloping eastward--convoyed part of the way by the scout onBlack Polly and Dick Darvall on Wheelbarrow. Soon he got into theregion of railways and steam-boats, and, in a few weeks more was onceagain in Old England.
A post-card announced his arrival, for Charlie had learned wisdom fromexperience, and feared to take any one "by surprise"--especially hismother.
We need not describe this second meeting of our hero with his kindredand friends. In many respects it resembled the former, when the badnews about Shank came, and there was the same conclave in Mrs Leather'sparlour, for old Jacob Crossley happened to be spending a holiday inSealford at the time.
Indeed he had latterly taken to spending much of his leisure time atthat celebrated watering-place, owing, it was supposed, to thebeneficial effect which the sea-air had on his rheumatism.
But May Leather knew better. With that discriminating penetration whichwould seem to be the natural accompaniment of youth and beauty, shediscerned that the old gentleman's motive for going so frequently toSealford was a compound motive.
First, Mr Crossley was getting tired of old bachelorhood, and had atlast begun to enjoy ladies' society, especially that of such ladies asMrs Leather and Mrs Brooke, to say nothing of May herself and MissMolloy--the worsted reservoir--who had come to reside permanently in thetown and who had got the "Blackguard Boy" into blue tights and buttons,to the amazement and confusion of the little dog Scraggy, whose mind wasweakened in consequence--so they said. Second, Mr Crossley wasremarkably fond of Captain Stride, whom he abused like a pick-pocket andstuck to like a brother, besides playing backgammon with him nightly, tothe great satisfaction of the Captain's "missus" and their "little Mag."Third, Mr Crossley had no occasion to attend to business, becausebusiness, somehow, attended to itself, and poured its profitsperennially into the old gentleman's pocket--a pocket which was neverfull, because it had a charitable hole in it somewhere which let thecash run out as fast as it ran in. Fourth and last, but not least, MrCrossley found considerable relief in getting away occasionally from hisworthy housekeeper Mrs Bland. This relief, which he styled "lettingoff the steam" at one time, "brushing away the cobwebs" at another, wasinvariably followed by a fit of amiability, which resulted in a penitentspirit, and ultimately took him back to town where he remained till MrsBland had again piled enough of eccentricity on the safety valve torender another letting off of steam on the sea-shore imperative.
What Charlie learned at the meeting held in reference to thedisappearance of old Mr Isaac Leather was not satisfactory. Thewretched man had so muddled his brain by constant tippling that it hadbecome a question at last whether he was quite responsible for hisactions. In a fit of remorse, after an attack of delirium tremens, hehad suddenly condemned himself as being a mean contemptible burden onhis poor wife and daughter. Of course both wife and daughter assertedthat his mere maintenance was no burden on them at all--as in truth itwas not when compared with the intolerable weight of his intemperance--and they did their best to soothe him. But the idea seemed to havetaken firm hold of him, and preyed upon his mind, until at last he lefthome one morning in a fit of despair, and had not since been heard of.
"Have you no idea, then, where he has gone?" asked Charlie.
"No, none," said Mrs Leather, with a tear trembling in her eye.
"We know, mother," said May, "that he has gone to London. The bookingclerk at the station, you know, told us that."
"Did the clerk say to what part of London he booked?"
"No, he could not remember."
"Besides, if he had remembered, that would be but a slight clue," saidMr Crossley. "As well look for a needle in a bundle of hay as for aman in London."
"As well go to sea without rudder or compass," observed Captain Stride.
"Nevertheless," said Charlie, rising, "I will make the attempt."
"Hopeless," said Crossley. "Sheer madness," added Stride. Mrs Leathershook her head and wept gently. Mrs Brooke sighed and cast down hereyes. Miss Molloy--who was of the council, being by that time cognisantof all the family secrets--clasped her hands and looked miserable. Ofall that conclave the only one who did not throw cold water on our herowas pretty little brown-eyed May. She cast on him a look of trustinggratitude which blew a long smouldering spark into such a flame that thewaters of Niagara in winter would have failed to quench it.
"I can't tell you yet, friends, what I intend to do," said Charlie."All I can say is that I'm off to London. I shall probably be away sometime, but will write to mother occasionally. So good-bye."
He said a good deal more, of course, but that was the gist of it.
May accompanied him to the door.
"Oh! thank you--_thank you_!" she said, with trembling lip and tearfuleyes as she held out her hand, "I feel _sure_ that you will findfather."
"I think I shall, May. Indeed I also feel sure that I shall--Godhelping me."
At the ticket office he found that the clerk remembered very little. Heknew the old gentleman well by sight, indeed, but was in the habit ofselling tickets to so many people that it was impossible for him toremember where they booked to. In fact the only thing that had fixedMr Leather at all in his memory was the fact that the old man haddropped his ticket, had no money to take another, and had pleadedearnestly to let him have one on trust, a request with which he darednot comply--but fortunately, a porter found and restored the ticket.
"Is the porter you refer to still here?" asked Charlie.
Yes, he was there; and Charlie soon found him. The porter recollectedthe incident perfectly, for the old gentleman, he said, had made aconsiderable fuss about the lost ticket.
"And you can't remember the station he went to?"
"No, sir, but I do remember something about his saying he wanted to goto Whitechapel--I think it was--or Whitehall, I forget which, but I'msure it was white something."
With this v
ery slender clue Charlie Brooke presented himself in due timeat Scotland Yard, at which fountain-head of London policedom he gave agraphic account of the missing man and the circumstances attending hisdisappearance. Thence he went to the headquarters of the London CityMission; introduced himself to a sympathetic secretary there, and wassoon put in communication with one of the most intelligent of thosevaluable self-sacrificing and devoted men who may be styled the salt ofthe London slums. This good man's district embraced part ofWhitechapel.
"I will help you to the extent of my power, Mr Brooke," he said, "butyour quest will be a difficult one, perhaps dangerous. How do youpropose to go about it?"
"By visiting all the low lodging-houses in Whitechapel first," saidCharlie.
"That will take a long time," said the City Missionary, smiling. "Lowlodging-houses are somewhat numerous in these parts."
"I am aware of that, Mr Stansfield, and mean to take time," returnedour hero promptly. "And what I want of you is to take me into one ortwo of them, so that I may see something of them while under yourguidance. After that I will get their streets and numbers from you, orthrough you, and will then visit them by myself."
"But, excuse me, my friend," returned the missionary, "your appearancein such places will attract more attention than you might wish, andwould interfere with your investigations, besides exposing you todanger, for the very worst characters in London are sometimes to befound in such places. Only men of the police force and we citymissionaries can go among them with impunity."
"I have counted the cost, Mr Stansfield, and intend to run the risk;but thank you, all the same, for your well-meant warning. Can you goround one or two this afternoon?"
"I can, with pleasure, and will provide you with as many lodging-houseaddresses as I can procure. Do you live far from this?"
"No, quite close. A gentleman, who was in your Secretary's office whenI called, recommended a small lodging-house kept by a Mrs Butt in theneighbourhood of Flower and Dean Street. You know that region well, Isuppose?"
"Ay--intimately; and I know Mrs Butt too--a very respectable woman.Come, then, let us start on our mission."
Accordingly Mr Stansfield introduced his inexperienced friend into twoof the principal lodging-houses in that neighbourhood. They merelypassed through them, and the missionary, besides commenting on all thatthey saw, told his new friend where and what to pay for a night'slodging. He also explained the few rules that were connected with thosesinks into which the dregs of the metropolitan human family ultimatelysettle. Then he accompanied Charlie to the door of his new lodging andbade him good-night.
It was a dingy little room in which our hero found himself, having anempty and rusty fire-grate on one side and a window on the other, fromwhich there was visible a landscape of paved court. The foreground ofthe landscape was a pump, the middle distance a wash-tub, and thebackground a brick wall, about ten feet distant and fifteen feet high.There was no sky to the landscape, by reason of the next house. Thefurniture was in keeping with the view.
Observing a small sofa of the last century on its last legs in a corner,Charlie sat down on it and rose again instantly, owing apparently torheumatic complaints from its legs.
"La! sir," said the landlady, who had followed him into the room, "youdon't need to fear anythink. That sofar, sir, 'as bin in my family forthree generations. The frame was renoo'd before I was born, an' thelegs I 'ad taken off an' noo ones putt on about fifteen year ago lastEaster as ever was. My last lodger 'ee went through the bottom of it,w'ich obliged me to 'ave that renoo'd, so it's stronger than ever itwere. If you only keep it well shoved up agin the wall, sir, it'llstand a'most any weight--only it won't stand jumpin' on. You mustn'tjump on it, sir, with your feet!"
Charlie promised solemnly that he would not jump on it either with hisfeet or head, and then asked if he could have tea and a fire. On beinginformed that he could have both, he drew out his purse and said--
"Now, Mrs Butt, I expect to stay here for two or three weeks--perhapslonger. My name is Brooke. I was advised to come here by a gentlemanin the offices of the City Mission. I shall have no visitors--beingutterly unknown in this neighbourhood--except, perhaps, the missionarywho parted from me at the door--"
"Mr Stansfield, sir?" said the landlady.
"Yes. You know him?"
"I've knowed 'im for years, sir. I shall only be too pleased to 'aveany friend of 'is in my 'ouse, I assure you."
"That's well. Now, Mrs Butt, my motive in coming here is to discover arunaway relation--"
"La! sir--a little boy?"
"No, Mrs Butt, a--"
"_Surely_ not a little _gurl_, sir," said the landlady, with asympathetic expression.
"It is of no consequence what or who the runaway relation is, Mrs Butt;I merely mention the fact in order that you may understand the reason ofany little eccentricity you may notice in my conduct, and not perplexyour mind about it. For instance, I shall have no regular hours--may beout late or early--it may be even all night. You will give me apass-key, and I will let myself in. The only thing I will probably askfor will be a cup of tea or coffee. Pray let me have one about an hourhence. I'm going out at present. Here is a week's rent in advance."
"Shall I put on a fire, sir?" asked Mrs Butt.
"Well, yes--you may."
"Toast, sir?"
"Yes, yes," said Charlie, opening the outer door.
"'Ot or cold, sir?"
"'Ot, and _buttered_," cried Charlie, with a laugh, as he shut the doorafter him and rendered further communication impossible.
Wending his way through the poor streets in the midst of which hislodging was situated, our hero at last found an old-clothes store, whichhe entered.
"I want a suit of old clothes," he said to the owner, a Jew, who cameforward.
The Jew smiled, spread out his hands after the manner of a Frenchman,and said, "My shop, sir, is at your disposal."
After careful inspection Charlie selected a fustian coat of extremelyragged appearance, with trousers to match, also a sealskin vest of amangy complexion, likewise a soiled and battered billycock hat soshockingly bad that it was difficult to imagine it to have ever hadbetter days at all.
"Are they clean?" he asked.
"Bin baked and fumigated, sir," answered the Jew solemnly.
As the look and smell of the garments gave some countenance to the truthof this statement, Charlie paid the price demanded, had them wrapped upin a green cotton handkerchief, and carried them off.
Arrived at his lodging he let himself in, entered his room, and threwthe bundle in a corner. Then he rang for tea.
It was growing dark by that time, but a yellow-cotton blind shut out theprospect, and a cheery fire in the grate lighted up the little roombrightly, casting a rich glow on the yellow-white table-cloth, which hadbeen already spread, and creating a feeling of coziness in powerfulcontrast to the sensation of dreariness which had assailed him on hisfirst entrance. When Mrs Butt had placed a paraffin lamp on the table,with a dark-brown teapot, a thick glass sugar-bowl, a cream-jug tomatch, and a plate of thick-buttered toast that scented the atmospheredeliciously, our hero thought--not for the first time in his life--thatwealth was a delusion, besides being a snare.
"`One wants but little here below,'" he mused, as he glanced round theapartment; "but he wants it longer than _that_," thought he, as his eyeswandered to the ancient sofa, which was obviously eighteen inches tooshort for him.
"I 'ope you've found 'im, sir," said Mrs Butt anxiously, as she wasabout to retire.
"Found who?"
"Your relation, sir; the little boy--I mean gurl."
"No, I have found neither the boy nor the girl," returned the lodgersharply. "Haven't even begun to look for them yet."
"Oh! beg parding, sir, I didn't know there was _two_ of 'em."
"Neither are there. There's only one. Fetch me some hot water, MrsButt, your tea is _too_ good. I never take it strong."
The landlady retired,
and, on returning with the water, found her lodgerso deep in a newspaper that she did not venture to interrupt him.
Tea over, Charlie locked his door and clothed himself in his latepurchase, which fitted him fairly well, considering that he had measuredit only by eye. Putting on the billycock, and tying the green cottonkerchief loosely round his neck to hide his shirt, he stepped in frontof the looking-glass above the mantelpiece.
At sight of himself he was prepared to be amused, but he had notexpected to be shocked! Yet shocked he certainly was, for thetransformation was so complete that it suddenly revealed to himsomething of the depth of degradation to which he _might_ fall--to whichmany a man as good as himself, if not better, _had_ fallen. Thenamusement rose within him, for he was the very beau-ideal of a typicalburglar, or a prize-fighter: big, square-shouldered, deep-chested,large-chinned. The only parts that did not quite correspond to the typewere his straight, well-formed nose and his clear blue eyes, but thesedefects were put right by slightly drooping his eyelids, pushing hisbillycock a little back on his head, and drawing a lock of hair in adrunken fashion over his forehead.
Suddenly an idea occurred to him. Slipping his latchkey into his pockethe went out of the house and closed the door softly. Then he rang thebell.
"Is the gen'leman at 'ome?" he asked of Mrs Butt, in a gruff, hoarsevoice, as if still engaged in a struggle with a bad cold.
"What gentleman?" asked Mrs Butt eyeing him suspiciously.
"W'y, the gen'leman as sent for me to give 'im boxin' lessons--Buck orBook, or some sitch name."
"Brooke, you mean," said Mrs Butt still suspicious, and interposing hersolid person in the doorway.
"Ay, that's the cove--the gen'leman I mean came here this arternoon tolodge wi' a Missis Butt or Brute, or suthin' o' that sort--air you MrsBrute?"
"_Certainly_ not," answered the landlady, with indignation; "but I'mMrs Butt."
"Well, it's all the same. I ax yer parding for the mistake, but there'ssitch a mixin' up o' Brutes an' Brookes, an' Butts an' Bucks, that itcomes hard o' a man o' no edication to speak of to take it all in. Thisgen'leman, Mr Brute, 'e said if 'e was hout w'en I called I was towait, an' say you was to make tea for two, an' 'ave it laid in thebedroom as 'e'd require the parlour for the mill."
The man's evident knowledge of her lodger's affairs, and his grossstupidity, disarmed Mrs Butt. She would have laughed at his lastspeech if it had not been for the astounding conclusion. Tea in thebedroom and a mill in the parlour the first night was a degree ofeccentricity she had not even conceived of.
"Come in, then, young man," she said, making way. "You'll find MrBrooke in the parlour at his tea."
The prize-fighter stepped quickly along the dark passage into theparlour, and while the somewhat sluggish Mrs Butt was closing the doorshe overheard her lodger exclaim--
"Ha! Jem Mace, this is good of you--very good of you--to come sopromptly. Mrs Butt," shouting at the parlour door, "another cup andplate for Mr Mace, and--and bring the _ham_!"
"The 'am!" repeated Mrs Butt softly to herself, as she gazed inperplexity round her little kitchen, "_did_ 'e order a 'am?"
Unable to solve the riddle she gave it up and carried in the cup andsaucer and plate.
"I beg your parding, sir, you mentioned a 'am," she began, but stoppedabruptly on seeing no one there but the prize-fighter standing beforethe fire in a free-and-easy manner with his hands in his breechespockets.
The light of the street-lamps had very imperfectly revealed the personof Jem Mace. Now that Mrs Butt saw him slouching in all his nativehideousness against her mantelpiece in the full blaze of a paraffinlamp, she inwardly congratulated herself that Mr Brooke was such a bigstrong man--almost a match, she thought, for Mace!
"I thought you said the gen'leman was in the parlour, Mrs Brute?" saidMace inquiringly.
"So 'e--_was_," answered the perplexed lady, looking round the room;"didn't I 'ear 'im a-shakin' 'ands wi' you, an' a-shoutin' for 'am?"
"Well, Mrs Brute, I dun know what you 'eard; all I know is that I'venot seed 'im yet."
"'E must be in the bedroom," said Mrs Butt, with a dazed look.
"No 'e ain't there," returned the prize-fighter; "I've bin all over it--looked under the bed, into the cupboard, through the key'ole;--p'r'aps,"he added, turning quickly, "'e may be up the chimbly!"
The expression on poor Mrs Butt's face now alarmed Charlie, whoinstantly doffed his billycock and resumed his natural voice and manner.
"Forgive me, Mrs Butt, if I have been somewhat reckless," he said, "intesting my disguise on you. I really had no intention till a fewminutes ago of playing such a practical--"
"Well, well, Mr Brooke," broke in the amazed yet amiable creature atthis point, "I do assure you as I'd never 'ave know'd you from the worstcharacter in W'itechapel. I wouldn't have trusted you--not with asixpence. You was born to be a play-actor, sir! I declare that JemMace have given me a turn that--But why disguise yourself in this way,Mr Brooke?"
"Because I am going to haunt the low lodging-houses, Mrs Butt and Icould not well do that, you know, in the character of a gentleman; andas you have taken it so amiably I'm glad I tried my hand here first, forit will make me feel much more at ease."
"And well it may, sir. I only 'ope it won't get you into trouble, forif the p'leece go lookin' for a burglar, or murderer, or despritruffian, where you 'appen to be, they're sure to run you in. The onlythink I would point out, sir, if I may be so free, is that your 'andsan' face is too clean."
"That is easily remedied," said Charlie, with a laugh, as he stooped andrubbed his hands among the ashes; then, taking a piece of cinder, hemade sundry marks on his countenance therewith, which, when judiciouslytouched in with a little water and some ashes, converted our hero intoas thorough a scoundrel as ever walked the streets of London atunseasonable hours of night.