The O'Ruddy: A Romance
CHAPTER XXVI
On Saturday night I called the lads to my room and gave them theirfinal instructions.
"Now, you rogues," said I to them, "let there be no drinking thisnight, and no trapesing of the streets, getting your heads broke justat the critical moment; for, as my father used to say, although abroken head is merrily come by, a clear head's worth two of it whenbusiness is to be transacted. So go to your beds at once, the two ofyou, if there's any drinking to be done, troth it's myself that'llattend to it."
With that I drove them out and sat down to an exhilarating bottle,without ever a thought of where the money was to come from to pay forit. It is one of the advantages of a public house frequented by thenobility that if you come to it with a bold front, and one or twoservants behind your back, you have at least a clear week ahead beforethey flutter the show of a bill at you and ask to see the colour ofyour gold in exchange for their ink and paper.
My father used to say that a gentleman with money in his pocket mighteconomize and no disgrace to him; but when stomach and purse are bothempty, go to the best house in the town, where they will feed you, andlodge you, and drink you, before asking questions. Indeed I never shedmany salt tears over the losses of a publican, for he shears soclosely those sheep that have plenty of wool that he may well takecare of an innocent lamb like myself, on which the crop is not yetgrown.
I was drinking quietly and thinking deeply on the wisdom of my father,who knew the world better than ever his son will know it, when therewas an unexpected knock at the door, and in walked Doctor Chord. I wasnot too pleased to see the little man, for I had feared he had changedhis mind and wanted to come with us in the morning, and his companywas something I had no desire for. He was a coward in a pinch, and adistrustful man in peace, ever casting doubt on the affection I wassure sometimes that Lady Mary held for me; and if he wasn't talkingabout that, sure he went rambling on,--great discourses on sciencewhich held little interest for a young man so deeply in love as I was.The proper study of mankind is womankind, said a philosopher that myfather used to quote with approval, but whose name I'm forgetting atthis moment. Nevertheless I welcomed the little Doctor and said tohim:
"Draw you up a chair, and I'll draw out a cork."
The little man sat him down, and I placed an open bottle nice andconvenient to his elbow.
Whether it was the prospect of good wine, or the delight of bettercompany, or the thought of what was going to happen on the morrow, Icould not tell; but it seemed to me the little Doctor laboured under agreat deal of excitement, and I became more and more afraid that hewould insist on bearing us company while the Earl and the Countesswere away at church. Now it was enough to have on my hands two suchmodels of stupidity as Paddy and Jem without having to look afterDoctor Chord as well, and him glancing his eyes this way and that inapprehension of a blunderbuss.
"Have you made all your plans, O'Ruddy?" he inquired, setting down hiscup a good deal emptier than when he lifted it.
"I have," said I.
"Are you entirely satisfied with them?" he continued.
"My plans are always perfect plans," I replied to him, "and troubleonly comes in the working of them. When you have to work with such rawmaterial as I have to put up with, the best of plans have the unluckyhabit of turning round and hitting you in the eye."
"Do you expect to be hit in the eye to-morrow?" asked the Doctor, veryexcited, which was shown by the rattle of the bottle against the lipof his cup.
"I'm only sure of one thing for to-morrow," said I, "and that is thecertainty that if there's blunder to be made one or other of myfollowing will make it. Still, I'm not complaining, for it's good tobe certain of something."
"What's to be your mode of procedure?" said the Doctor, giving me atouch of his fine language.
"We wait in the lane till the church bells have stopped ringing, thenPaddy and Jem go up to the little door in the wall, and Paddy knocksnice and quietly, in the expectation that the door will be opened asquietly by Strammers, and thereupon Jem and Paddy will be let in."
"But won't ye go in with them?" inquired the little Doctor veryhurriedly.
"Doctor Chord," said I, lifting up my cup, "I have the honour to drinkwine with you, and to inform you that it's myself that's outlining theplan."
"I beg your pardon for interrupting," said the Doctor; then he noddedto me as he drank.
"My two villains will go in alone with Strammers, and when the door isbolted, and they have passed the time of day with each other, Paddywill look around the garden and exclaim how it excels all the gardensthat ever was, including that of Eden; and then Jem will say what apity it was they couldn't have their young friend outside to see thebeauty of it. It is my expectation that Strammers will rise to this,and request the pleasure of their young friend's company; but if hehesitates Paddy will say that the young friend outside is afree-handed Irishman who would no more mind a shilling going from hispocket into that of another man than he would the crooking of an elbowwhen a good drink is to be had. But be that as it may, they're to workme in through the little door by the united diplomacy of England andIreland, and, once inside of the walls, it is my hope that I can slipaway from them and see something of the inside of the house as well."
"And you have the hope that you'll find Lady Mary in thewithdrawing-room," said the Doctor.
"I'll find her," says I, "if she's in the house; for I'm going fromroom to room on a tour of inspection to see whether I'll buy themansion or not."
"It's a very good plan," said the Doctor, drawing the back of his handacross his lips. "It's a very good plan," he repeated, nodding hishead several times.
"Now, by the Old Head of Kinsale, little man," said I, "what do youmean by that remark and that motion of the head? What's wrong with theplan?"
"The plan's a good one, as I have said," reiterated the Doctor. But Isaw there was something on his mind, and told him so, urging him to beout with it.
"Do you think," said I, "that Lady Mary will be in church with herfather and mother?"
"I do not," muttered the Doctor, cautiously bringing his voice down toa whisper; "but I want to warn you that there's danger here in thisroom while you're lurking around my Earl's palace."
"How can danger harm me here when I am somewhere else?" I asked.
A very mysterious manner fell upon the little man, and he glanced, oneafter the other, at the four corners of the room, as if he heard amouse moving and wanted to detect it. Then he looked sternly at thedoor, and I thought he was going to peer up the chimney, but insteadhe leaned across the table and said huskily,--
"The papers!"
"What papers?" I asked, astonished.
"Your thoughts are so intent on the young lady that you forgeteverything else. Have you no recollection of the papers the Earl ofWestport is so anxious to put himself in possession of?"
I leaned back in my chair and gazed steadily at Chord; but his eyeswould not bring themselves to meet mine, and so he made some potherabout filling up his cup again, with the neck of the bottle tremblingon the edge, as if its teeth were chattering.
Now my father used to say when a man is afraid to meet your eye, beprepared to have him meet your fist. I disremembered saying anythingto the Doctor about these same papers, which, truth to tell, I hadgiven but little thought to recently, with other things of moreimportance to crowd them out of mind.
"How come you to know anything about the papers?" I said at last.
"Oh, your memory is clean leaving you!" cried the little Doctor, as ifthe cup of wine he drank had brought back his courage to him. "Youtold me all about the papers when we were in Kensington Gardens."
"If I did," says I, "then I must have further informed you that I gavethem as a present to Lady Mary herself. Surely I told you that?"
"You told me that, of course; but I thought you said they had comeback into your possession again. If I'm wrong, it's no matter at all,and there's nothing to be said about them. I'm merely speaking to youby way of a friend, an
d I thought if you had the papers here in yourroom it was very unsafe to leave them unprotected by yourself or someone you can trust. I was just speaking as your well-wisher, for Idon't want to hear you crying you are robbed, and us at our wit's endnot getting either the thief or the booty."
He spoke with great candour and good humour, and the only thing thatmade me suspicious at first was that for the life of me I could notever remember mentioning the papers to him, yet it was very likelythat I did; for, as my father used to say, an Irishman talks more thanthe recording angel can set down in his busiest day, and therefore itis lucky that everything he says is not held against him. It seemed tome that we talked more of scandal than of papers in the park, butstill I might be mistaken.
"Very good, Doctor," I cried, genially. "The papers it is, and, truefor you, the Earl would like to get his old claws on them. Have youany suggestions to make?"
"Well, it seems to me, O'Ruddy, that if the Earl got wind of them itwould be the easiest thing in the world to have your apartment rifledduring your absence."
"That is true enough," I agreed, "so what would you do about thepapers if you were in my boots?"
"If I had a friend I could trust," said Doctor Chord slowly, "I wouldgive the papers to him and tell him to take good care of them."
"But why not carry them about in my own pocket?" I asked.
"It seemed to me they were not any too safe last time they werethere," said the Doctor, pleasantly enough. "You see, O'Ruddy, you'rea marked man if once the Earl gets wind of your being in town. Tocarry the papers about on your own person would be the unsafest thingyou could do, ensuring you a stab in the back, so that little useyou'd have for the papers ever after. I have no desire to be mixedfurther in your affairs than I am at the present moment, butnevertheless I could easily take charge of the packet for you; thenyou would know where it was."
"But would I be sure to know where _you_ were?" said I, my firstsuspicion of him returning to me.
The little Doctor laughed.
"I am always very easily found," he said; "but when I offered to takethe papers it was merely in case a stranger like yourself should nothave a faster friend beside him than I am. If you have any such, thenI advise you to give custody of the papers to him."
"I have no real friend in London that I know of," said I, "but Paddy."
"The very thing," cried the Doctor, joyously, at once putting to restall my doubts concerning him. "The very thing. I would give the papersto Paddy and tell him to protect them with his life. I'm sure he'll doit, and you'll know where to find both them and him when you wantthem. But to go away from the 'Pig and Turnip' right across to theother end of the town, taking your two servants with you, leavingnobody to guard papers that are of importance to you, strikes me asthe height of folly. I'll just fill up another cup, and so bid yougood-night, and good luck for the morrow."
And with that the little man drained the bottle, taking his leave withgreat effusion, and begging my pardon for even so much as mentioningthe papers, saying they had been on his mind for the last day or two,and, feeling friendly toward me, he wished to warn me not to leavethem carelessly about.
After he left I thought a good deal about what the Doctor had said,and I wondered at myself that I had ever misdoubted him; for, althoughhe was a man given greatly to talk, yet he had been exceedinglyfriendly with me from the very first night I had met him, and Ithought shame of myself that I was losing trust in my fellow man herein this great city of London, because in Ireland we trust each otherentirely; and indeed we are under some compulsion in that same matter,for there is so little money about that if you do not take a man'sword now and then there's nothing else for you to take.