A Dog with a Bad Name Part 8

"Your perception is excellent, my young friend."

"When?"

Mr Halgrove looked at his watch.

"I believe Mrs Jessop usually locks up about eleven. It would be a pity to keep her up after that hour."

Jeffreys gulped down something like a sigh and turned to the door.

"Not going, are you?" said the guardian. "It's early yet."

"I am going," replied the ward quietly.

"By the way," said Mr Halgrove, as he reached the door, "by the way, John--"

Jeffreys stopped with his hand on the latch.

"I was going to say," said the guardian, rising and looking for his cigar-case, "that the little sum of money which was left by your father, and invested for your benefit, has very unfortunately taken to itself wings, owing to the failure of the undertaking in which it happened to be invested. I have the papers here, and should like to show them to you, if you can spare me five minutes."

Jeffreys knew nothing about money. Hitherto his school fees had been paid, and a small regular allowance for pocket-money had been sent him quarterly by his guardian. Now his guardian's announcement conveyed little meaning to him beyond the fact that he had no money to count upon. He never expected he would have; so he was not disappointed.

"I don't care to see the papers," he said.

"You are a philosopher, my friend," said his guardian. "But I have sufficient interest in you, despite your financial difficulties, to believe you might find this five-pound note of service on your travels."

"No, thank you," said Jeffreys, putting his hand behind his back.

"Don't mention it," said his guardian, returning it to his pocket.

"There is, when I come to think of it," added he, "a sovereign which really belongs to you. It is the balance of your last quarter's allowance, which I had been about to send to you this week. I would advise you to take it."

"Is it really mine?"

"Pray come and look over the accounts. I should like to satisfy you."

"If it is really mine I will take it," said the boy.

"You are sensible," said his guardian, putting it into his hand. "You are perfectly safe in taking it. It is yours. It will enable you to buy a few postage stamps. I shall be interested to hear of your success. Good-bye."

Jeffreys, ignoring the hand which was held out to him, walked silently from the room. Mr Halgrove stood a moment and listened to the retreating footsteps. Then he returned to his chair and rang the bell.

"Mrs Jessop," said he, "Mr Jeffreys is going on a journey. Will you kindly see he has a good meal before starting?"

Mrs Jessop went upstairs and found Jeffreys writing a letter.

"Master says you're going a journey, sir."

"Yes. I shall be starting in half an hour."

"Can't you put it off till to-morrow, sir?"

"No, thanks. But I want to finish this letter."

"Well, sir, there'll be some supper for you in the parlour. It's master's orders."

Jeffreys' letter was to Mr Frampton.

"Sir," he wrote, "I left Bolsover because I could not bear to be there any longer. I did not mean to injure Forrester so awfully, though I was wicked enough to have a spite against him. I am not a murderer, though I am as bad as one. If I could do anything to help Forrester get better I would come, but I should only make everything worse. My guardian has turned me away, and I shall have to find employment. But the housekeeper here, Mrs Jessop, will always know where I am, and send on to me if I am wanted. I should not think of hiding away till I hear that Forrester is better. If he dies I should not care to live, so I should be only too glad to give myself up. I cannot come back to Bolsover now, even if I wanted, as I have only a pound, and my guardian tells me that is all the money I have in the world. Please write and say if Forrester is better. I am too miserable to write more.

"Yours truly,--

"John Jeffreys."

Having finished this dismal letter, he packed up one or two of his things in a small handbag and descended to the parlour. There he found an ample supper provided for him by the tender-hearted Mrs Jessop, who had a pretty shrewd guess as to the nature of the "journey" that her master's ward was about to take. But Jeffreys was not hungry, and the announcement that the meal was there by the "master's orders" turned him against it.

"I can't eat anything, thank you," he said to Mrs Jessop, "you gave me such a good tea only a little while ago."

"But you've a long journey, Master John. Is it a long journey, sir?"

"I don't know yet," he said. "But I want you to promise to send me on any letter or message that comes, will you?"

"Where to?"

"To the head post-office, here."

"Here? Then you're not going out of York?"

"Not at first. I'll let you know when I go where to send on the letters."

"Mr John," said the housekeeper, "the master's turned you away. Isn't that it?"

"Perhaps he's got a reason for it. Good-bye, Mrs Jessop."

"Oh, but Mr John--"

But John interrupted her with a kiss on her motherly cheek, and next moment was gone.

CHAPTER FIVE.

FREDDY AND TEDDY.

John Jeffreys, as he stood in the street that October evening, had no more idea what his next step was to be than had Mr Halgrove or the motherly Mrs Jessop. He was a matter-of-fact youth, and not much given to introspection; but the reader may do well on this particular occasion to take a hasty stock of him as he walked aimlessly down the darkening street.

He was nineteen years old. In appearance he was particularly ugly in face and clumsy in build. Against that, he was tall and unusually powerful whenever he chose to exert his strength. In mind he was reputed slow and almost stupid, although he was a good cla.s.sical scholar and possessed a good memory. He was cursed with a bad and sometimes ungovernable temper. He was honest and courageous. He rarely knew how to do the right thing at the right time or in the right place. And finally he had a bad name, and believed himself to be a homicide. Such was the commonplace creature who, with a sovereign in his pocket and the whole world before him, paced the streets of York that Tuesday night.

On one point his mind was made up. He must remain in York for the present, prepared at a moment's notice to repair to Bolsover, should the dreaded summons come. With that exception, as I have said, his mind was open, and utterly devoid of ideas as to the future.