CHAPTER XXVI
ON THE SPANIARD'S WALK
I paid the man half-a-sovereign. There was a seat near by and Sarakoffdeposited himself upon it. I joined him. On those heights the morningair struck chill. London, misty-blue, lay before us. The taxi-man tookout his pipe and began to fill it.
"Lucky me comin' along like that," he observed. "If it hadn't beenbecause of my missus I wouldn't have been out so early." He blew a puffof smoke and continued: "This Blue Disease seems to confuse folk. Mymissus was took with it last night." He paused to examine us at hisleisure. "When did you get it?"
"We became immortal the day before yesterday," said Sarakoff.
The taxi-man took his pipe out of his mouth and stared.
"You ain't them two doctors what's in the paper this morning, by anychance?" he asked. "Them as is supposed to 'ave invented this BlueDisease?"
We nodded. He emitted a low whistle and gazed thoughtfully at us. Atlength he spoke I noticed his tone had changed.
"As I was saying, my missus was took with it in the night. I had a jobwaking 'er up, and when she opened her eyes I near had a fit. We'd had abit of a tiff overnight, but she got up as quiet as a lamb and neversaid a word agin me, which surprised me. When I 'ad dressed myself Iwent into the kitchen to get a bit o' breakfast, and she was setting ina chair starin' at nothing. The kettle wasn't boiling, and there wasn'tnothing ready, so I asked 'er quite polite, what she was doing. 'I'mthinking,' she says, and continues sitting in the chair. After a bit ofreasoning with her, I lost my temper and picked up a leg of a chair,what we had broke the evening previous when we was 'aving a argument.She jump up and bolted out of the house, just as she was, with her 'airin curl-papers, and that's the last I saw of her. I waited an hour andthen took the old cab out of the garage, and I was going to look for mybreakfast when I met you two gents." He took his pipe out of his mouthand wiped his lips. "Now I put it all down to this 'ere Blue Disease.It's sent my missus off 'er head."
"There's no reason why you should think your wife mad simply because sheran away when you tried to strike her," I said. "It's surely a proof ofher sanity."
He shook his head.
"That ain't correct," he said, with conviction. "She always liked ascrap. She's a powerful young woman, and her language is extraordinaryfine when she's roused, and she knows it. I can't understand it."
He looked up suddenly.
"So it was you two who made this disease was it?"
"Yes."
"Fancy that!" he said. "Fancy a couple of doctors inventing a disease.It does sound a shame, don't it?"
"Wait till you get it," said Sarakoff.
"It seems to me you've been and done something nasty," he went on."Ain't there enough diseases without you two going and makin' a newone? It's a fair sickener to think of all the diseases thereare--measles and softenin' of the brain, and 'eaving stummicks and whatnot. What made you do it? That's what I want to know." He was gettingangry. He pointed the stem of his pipe at us accusingly. His small eyesshone. "It's fair sickening," he muttered. "I've never took to doctors,nor parsons--never in my life."
He spat expressively.
"And my wife, too, clean barmy," he continued. "Who 'ave I got to thankfor that? You two gents. Doctors, you call yourselves. I arsk you, whatis doctors? They never does me any good. I never seed anyone they'd doneany good. And yet they keeps on and no one says nothing. It's fairsickening."
There was a sound of footsteps behind me. I turned and saw a policemanclimbing slowly up the bank towards the road. Like all policemen heappeared not to notice us until he was abreast of our seat. Then hestopped and eyed each of us in turn. His boots were muddy.
"These gents," said the taxi-man, "'ave been and done something nasty."
The phrase seemed attractive to him and he repeated it. The policeman,a tall muscular man, surveyed us in silence. Sarakoff, his hair andbeard dishevelled, was leaning back in a corner of the seat, with hislegs crossed. His dressing-gown was tucked closely round him, and belowit, his pink pyjamas fluttered in the thin breeze. His expression wascalm.
The taxi-man continued--
"I picked these gents up in the Euston Road. They was in a hurry. Ithought they'd done something ordinary, same as what you or me might do,but it seems I was wrong. They've been and done something nasty. They'vegone and invented this 'ere Blue Disease."
The policeman raised his helmet a little and the taxi-man uttered anexclamation.
"Why, you've got it yourself," he said, and stared. The policeman's eyeswere stained a vivid blue.
"An immortal policeman!" murmured Sarakoff dreamily.
The discovery seemed to discomfit the taxi-man. The tide of indignationin him was deflected, and he shifted his feet. The policeman, with adeliberation that was magnificent advanced to the seat and sat downbeside me.
"Good-morning," I said.
"Good-morning," he replied in a deep calm voice. He removed his helmetfrom his head and allowed the wind to stir his hair. The taxi-man moveda step nearer us.
"You ought to arrest them," he said. "Here's my wife got it, and you,and who's to say when it will end? They're doctors, too. I allus had myown suspicions of doctors, and 'ere they are, just as I supposed,inventing diseases to keep themselves going. That's what you ought to do... arrest them. I'll drive you all down to the police-station." Thepoliceman replaced his helmet, crossed his long blue legs, and leanedback in the corner of the seat. Side by side on the seat Sarakoff, thepoliceman, and I gazed tranquilly at the figure of the taxi-man, at thetaxi-cab, and at the misty panorama of London that lay beyond the Valeof Health. The expression of anger returned to the taxi-man's face.
"And 'ere am I, standing and telling you to do your duty, and all thetime I haven't had my breakfast," he said bitterly. "If you was to copthem two gents, your name would be in all the evenin' papers." Hepaused, and frowned, conscious that he was making little impression onthe upholder of law and order. "Why 'aven't I 'ad my breakfast? Allbecause of these two blokes. I tell you, you ought to cop them."
"When I was a boy," said the policeman, "I used to collect stamps."
"Did yer," exclaimed the taxi-man sarcastically. "You do interest me,reely you do."
"Yes, I used to collect stamps." The policeman settled himself morecomfortably. "And afore that I was in the 'abit of collecting bits o'string."
"You surprise me," said the taxi-man. "And what did you collect aforeyou collected bits of string?"
"So far as I recollect, I didn't collect nothing. I was trying toremember while I was walking across the Heath." He turned to us. "Didyou collect anything?"
"Yes," I said. "I used to collect beetles."
"Beetles?" The policeman nodded thoughtfully. "I never had an eye forbeetles. But, as I said, I collected stamps. I remember I would walk formiles to get a new stamp, and of an evening I would sit and count thestamps in my album over and over again till my head was fair giddy." Hepaused and stroked his clean-shaven chin thoughtfully. "I recollect asif it was yesterday how giddy my head used to get."
The taxi-man seemed about to say something, but he changed his mind.
"Why did you collect beetles?" the policeman asked me.
"I was interested in them."
"But that ain't a suitable answer," he replied. "It ain't suitable.That's what I've been seeing for the first time this morning. The pointis--why was you interested in beetles, and why was I interested in bitso' string and stamps?"
"Yes, he's quite right," said Sarakoff; "that certainly is the point."
"To say that we are interested in a thing is no suitable explanation,"continued the policeman. "After I'd done collecting stamps----"
"Why don't you arrest these two blokes?" shouted the taxi-man suddenly."Why can't you do yer duty, you blue fathead?"
"I'm coming to that," said the policeman imperturbably. "As I wassaying, after I collected stamps, I collected knives--any sort of oldrusty knife--and then I joined the force and began to collect men, Icollected all
sorts o' men--tall and short, fat and thin. Now why did Ido that?"
"It seems to me," observed the taxi-man, suddenly calm, "that somebodywill be collecting you soon, and there won't be no need to arsk thereason why."
"That's where you and me don't agree," said the policeman. "I came tothe conclusion this morning that we don't ask the reason why enough--notby 'alf. Now if somebody did as you say, and started collectin'policemen, what would be the reason?"
"Reason?" shouted the taxi-man. "Don't arsk me for a reason."
He turned to his taxi-cab and jerked the starting handle violently. Theclatter of the engine arose. He climbed into his seat, and pulled at hisgears savagely. In a few moments he had turned his cab, after wrenchingin fury at the steering-wheel, and was jolting down the road in themorning brightness in search of breakfast.