CHAPTER XLIX.
THE SECOND COLUMN OF "THE TIMES" OF THIS DATE, WITH OTHER MATTERS.
"TOMATO. Slam the door!"
"EDWARD. Come at once; poor Maria is in sad distress. Toodlekins stole!!!!"
"J. B. can return to his deeply afflicted family if he likes, or remain away if he likes. The A F, one and all, will view either course with supreme indifference. Should he choose the former alternative, he is requested to be as quick as possible. If the latter, to send the key of the cellaret."
"LOST. A little black and tan lady's lap dog. Its real name is Pussy, but it will answer to the name of Toodlekins best. If any gentleman living near Kensal Green, or Kentish Town, should happen, perfectly accidentally of course, to have it in his possession, and would be so good as to bring it to 997, Sloane Street, I would give him a sovereign and welcome, and not a single question asked, upon my honour."
It becomes evident to me that the dog Toodlekins mentioned in the secondadvertisement, is the same dog alluded to in the fourth; unless youresort to the theory that two dogs were stolen on the same day, and thatboth were called Toodlekins. And you are hardly prepared to do that, Ifancy. Consequently, you arrive at this, that the "Maria" of the secondadvertisement is the "little black and tan lady" of the fourth. Andthat, in 1854, she lived at 997, Sloane Street. Who was she? Had shemade a fortune by exhibiting herself in a caravan, like Mrs. Gamp'sspotted negress, and taken a house in Sloane Street, for herself,Toodlekins, and the person who advertised for Edward to come and comforther? Again, who was Edward? Was he her brother? Was he something nearerand dearer? Was he enamoured of her person or her property? I fear thelatter. Who could truly love a little black and tan lady?
Again. The wording of her advertisement gives rise to this train ofthought. Two persons must always be concerned in stealing a dog--theperson who steals the dog, and the person who has the dog stolen;because, if the dog did not belong to any one, it is evident that no onecould steal it. To put it more scientifically, there must be an activeand a passive agent. Now, I'll bet a dirty old dishcloth against the_New York Herald_, which is pretty even betting, that our little blackand tan friend, Maria, had been passive agent in a dog-stealing casemore than once before this, or why does she mention these twolocalities? But we must get on to the other advertisements.
"LOST. A large white bull-dog, very red about the eyes: desperately savage. Answers to the name of 'Billy.' The advertiser begs that any person finding him will be very careful not to irritate him. The best way of securing him is to make him pin another dog, and then tie his four legs together and muzzle him. Any one bringing him to the Coach and Horses, St. Martin's Lane, will be rewarded."
He seems to have been found the same day, and by some one who was a bitof a wag; for the very next advertisement runs thus:
"FOUND. A large white bull-dog, very red about the eyes; desperately savage. The owner can have him at once, by applying to Queen's Mews, Belgrave Street, and paying the price of the advertisement and the cost of a new pad groom, aged 18, as the dog has bitten one so severely about the knee that it is necessary to sell him at once to drive a cab."
"LOST. Somewhere between Mile-end Road and Putney Bridge, an old leathern purse, containing a counterfeit sixpence, a lock of hair in a paper, and a twenty-pound note. Any one bringing the note to 267, Tylney Street, Mayfair, may keep the purse and the rest of its contents for their trouble."
This was a very shabby advertisement. The next, though coming from anattorney's office, is much more munificent. It quite makes one's mouthwater, and envy the lucky fellow who would answer it.
"ONE HUNDRED GUINEAS REWARD. Register wanted. To parish clerks. Any person who can discover the register of marriage between Petre Ravenshoe, Esq. of Ravenshoe, in the county of Devon, and Maria Dawson, which is supposed to have been solemnised in or about the year 1778, will receive the above reward, on communicating with Messrs. Compton and Brogden, Solicitors, 2004, Lincoln's Inn Fields."
Tomato slammed the door as he was told. Edward dashed up to 997, SloaneStreet, in a hansom cab, just as the little black and tan lady paid onesovereign to a gentleman in a velveteen shooting-coat from Kentish Town,and hugged Toodlekins to her bosom. J. B. came home to his afflictedfamily with the key of the cellaret. The white bull-dog was restored tothe prize-fighter, and the groom-lad received shin-plaster and was senthome tipsy. Nay, even an honest man, finding that the note was stopped,took it to Tylney Street, and got half-a-crown. But no one ever answeredthe advertisement of Lord Saltire's solicitor about the marriageregister. The long summer dragged on. The square grew dry and dusty;business grew slack, and the clerks grew idle; but no one came. As theysat there drinking ginger-beer, and looking out at the parched lilacsand laburnums, talking about the theatres, and the war, and the cholera,it grew to be a joke with them. When any shabby man in black was seencoming across the square, they would say to one another, "Here comes theman to answer Lord Saltire's advertisement." Many men in black, shabbyand smart, came across the square and into the office; but none had aword to say about the marriage of Petre Ravenshoe with Maria Dawson,which took place in the year 1778.
Once, during that long sad summer, the little shoeblack thought he wouldsaunter up to the house in South Audley Street, before which he hadwaited so long one night to meet Charles, who had never come. Notperhaps with any hope. Only that he would like to see the place whichhis friend had appointed. He might come back there some day; who couldtell?
Almost every house in South Audley Street had the shutters closed. Whenhe came opposite Lord Ascot's house, he saw the shutters were closedthere too. But more; at the second storey there was a great paintedboard hung edgeways, all scarlet and gold. There was some writing on it,too, on a scroll. He could spell a little now, thanks to theragged-school, and he spelt out "Christus Salvator meus." What couldthat mean? he wondered.
There was an old woman in the area, holding two of the rails in herhands, and resting her chin on the kerb-stone, looking along the hotdesolate street. Our friend went over and spoke to her.
"I say, missus," he said, "what's that thing up there?"
"That's the scutching, my man," said she.
"The scutching?"
"Ah! my lord's dead. Died last Friday week, and they've took him down tothe country house to bury him."
"My lord?" said the boy; "was he the one as used to wear top-boots, andwent for a soger?"
The old woman had never seen my lord wear top-boots. Had hearn tell,though, as his father used to, and drive a coach and four in 'em. Noneof 'em hadn't gone for soldiers, neither.
"But what's the scutching for?" asked the boy.
They put it for a year, like for a monument, she said. She couldn't saywhat the writing on it meant. It was my lord's motter, that was all sheknowd. And, being a tender-hearted old woman, and not having the fear ofthieves before her eyes, she had taken him down into the kitchen and fedhim. When he returned to the upper regions, he was "collared" by apoliceman, on a charge of "area sneaking," but, after explanations, waslet go, to paddle home, barefooted, to the cholera-stricken court wherehe lived, little dreaming, poor lad, what an important part he wasaccidentally to play in this history hereafter.
They laid poor Lord Ascot to sleep in the chancel at Ranford, and LadyAscot stood over the grave like a grey, old storm-beaten tower. "It isstrange, James," she said to Lord Saltire that day, "you and I beingleft like this, with the young ones going down around us like grass.Surely our summons must come soon, James. It's weary, weary waiting."