A Double Knot Part 75

"I wish someone would come, if it was only stupid little d.i.c.k," she said pettishly. "Poor old Rie! But she did not marry Marcus Glen."

Clotilde's white teeth closed with a snap, and she lay perfectly still, gazing at her handsome face in the nearest gla.s.s.

Volume 3, Chapter VIII.

GERTRUDE TAKES SANCTUARY.

Valentine Vidler and Salome his wife chirped about the gloomy house in Wimpole Street like a pair of exceedingly happy crickets. Vidler used to kiss Mrs V. and say she was a "dear little woman," and Mrs V. would always, when they were downstairs amongst the shining coppers and tins, call Vidler "love." They were quaint to look at, but their blood circulated just as did that of other specimens of humanity; their nerves grew tense or slack in the same way; and in their fashion they thoroughly enjoyed life.

Certainly no children were born unto them, a fact due, perhaps, to the absence of light; but somehow the little couple were very happy without, and so their life glided on as they placidly thought of other people's troubles, talked of how the Captain took this or that, wondered when Sir Humphrey would come and see him again; if Lady Millet would ever get over the snubbing she had had, for wanting to interfere during a visit, and let in light, which she declared she could not exist without, and Captain Millet had told her she could get plenty out of doors.

Dull as the house seemed, it was never dull to Salome, with her dusting, cleaning, cooking, and cutting-up little squares and diamonds of cotton print for her master's needle, and afterwards lining and quilting the counterpanes, which were in great request for charitable affairs and fancy bazaars.

The kitchen at Wimpole Street was very cosy in its way--a good fire always burned in the glistening grate, a cricket or two chirped in warm corners; there was a very white hearthstone, a very bright steel fender, and a very thick warm hearthrug, composed of cloth shreds, in front of the little round table drawn up pretty close; for absence of light meant apparently absence of heat.

The tea-things were out, it being eight o'clock; the Captain's dinner over, Renee seated by the panel reading to him in a low voice, and the Vidlers' duties done for the day. Hence, then, they had their tea punctually at eight o'clock, making it their supper as well.

Vidler was busy, with a white napkin spread over his knees, making toast, which Mrs V. b.u.t.tered liberally, and then placed round after round upon the plate, which just fitted the steel disc in the fender.

The kettle was sending out its column of steam, the hot toast looked b.u.t.tery and brown, and a fragrant scent arose from the teapot, the infusion being strong and good, consequent upon the Captain's having one cup directly after his dinner, and the pot being kept afterwards to draw.

The meal over and the tea-things washed up--Salome doing the washing, finishing off with that special rinse round of the tray with hot water and the pouring out of the rinsings at one corner, just as a photographer used to cover his plate with collodion--the table was cleared, ap.r.o.ns folded and put away by Vidler in the dresser drawer, while his wife brushed up the hearth, and then came the event of the day--that is to say, the work being done, came the play.

It was the Vidlers' sole amus.e.m.e.nt, and it was entered into with a kind of solemn unction in accordance with the gloom of the place. Some learned people would have been of opinion that a light gymnastic kind of sport would have been that most suited for such a life as the Vidlers led, and would have liked to see hooks in the ceiling, and Valentine and his little wife swinging by ropes and turning head over heels on bars for the bringing into play of unused muscles. They might have introduced, too, that pleasing occupation of turning one's self into a human quintain, with a couple of clubs swung round and round over the head to the great endangerment of the rows of plates and tureens upon the dresser, but they would have been wrong: the stairs gave both an abundance of gymnastic exercise, and their ordinary work brought their other muscles into play. Hence, then, they disported themselves over a pleasant pastime which combined skill, the elements of chance, and mental and arithmetical calculation--the Vidlers' pastime was cribbage.

The cards taken from the box which opened out into a board were tolerably clean, though faded, it being Salome's custom to rub them once a week with bread-crumbs, and upon the couple taking their places, with a vast amount of solemnity, spectacles were mounted, and the game began.

Old-fashioned six-card cribbage was their favourite, because, as Vidler said, he didn't care twopence for a game where there wasn't plenty of pegging; so the cards were cut. Salome won the deal; they were cut again, and she began.

It was a sight to see Salome deal the cards. Had they been hundred-pound notes she could not have been more particular; wetting her thumb, and taking the greatest care she could to deliver only one at a time, while Vidler looked calmly on, then took up his, smiled at them, selected two for the crib, frowned over them, counted how many he should hold, tried another way, seemed satisfied, and then as he threw out, having thoroughly instructed his partner--now his opponent--in all the technicalities and time-honoured sayings of the game, he informed Salome that he had contrived a "regular bilk."

"Have you?" said Salome, nodding and throwing out her own couple. "Cut up."

Vidler "cut up," and Salome took the card upon the top, exclaimed "Two for his heels," scored them, and Vidler frowned, for his "bilk" accorded wonderfully well with the turned-up card. "Master didn't seem to relish that cutlet," said Vidler, playing first--"six."

"No," said Salome, "he has been too much bothered lately--fifteen," and she scored a second "two."

"More trouble coming," said Vidler--"twenty-two."

"And nine's a screw," said Salome seriously, taking another couple for thirty-one.

Then the played cards were solemnly turned down and the game went on.

"Eight," said Vidler. "How ill Miss Renee looks!"

"Fourteen," said Salome, playing a six. "Yes, poor girl! she's brought her pigs to a bad market."

"Got you this time," said Vidler, smiling, as he played an ace--"fifteen"--and scored his two.

"Twenty," said Salome; and so the game went on, the little woman playing with all the serious precision of an old stager, calling thirty-one "eleven," informing Vidler when she was well ahead that it was "all Leadenhall Street to a China orange," and proving herself such an adept that the little man was thoroughly beaten.

"Better luck next time," said Vidler, giving the Cards a good shuffle; and then the pair stopped to listen, for faint and low, like a melody from another land, came the sad sweet voice of Renee, singing that wonderful old Irish air, "Grammachree," putting an end to the play, for the couple sat and listened, Vidler nodding his head gently, and waving a card to the melancholy cadence till it ended, when the game once more began.

_Pop_!

"Bless us and save us?" cried Salome, dropping her Cribbage-peg as she was in the act of scoring three for a run; "is it a purse or a coffin?"

Vidler rose, and, taking the tongs, carefully picked up the cinder which had flown from the fire, and was now making an unpleasant savour of burning woollen fabric to arise from the hearthrug. He laid it solemnly upon the table to cool, and then it was shaken by Salome, but gave forth no answering tinkle.

"It isn't a purse," she said, holding it to the light. "It's a coffin!"

She handed the little hollow bubble of cindery coal-tar to her husband, and he laid it down, took off and wiped his perfectly clean spectacles, and replaced them before carefully examining the portent by the light.

"It's a coffin for somebody," he said solemnly; and then, as he carefully cremated the cinder in the most glowing portion of the fire, the couple sighed, resumed their places, and sat listening as the voice of Renee singing to Captain Millet once more came down to where they sat.

It was "Ye banks and braes" this time, and when the pathetic old air was ended Salome sighed.

"Ah, poor dear, yes--'My false lu-huv has plu-ucked the ro-az, and le-heft the the--horn be-hi-hind with me,'" said and sang Salome, in a little piping plaintive voice. "I hope it isn't for her!"

"It may mean only trouble," said Vidler, with his head on one side. "I have known coffins pop out of the fire and no one die."

"Oh dear no," said Salome. "There's not a minute pa.s.ses but someone dies."

"No," said Vidler slowly, as if the great problem propounded required much consideration; "but so long as it isn't anyone here, why, it don't matter."

"Quite so much," said Salome correctively. "Let me see; it was three for a run. I shall beat you this time. You want fourteen."

"Yes," said Vidler, chuckling; "but it's my first show. You want sixteen."

"Yes," said Salome, pegging one for a "go," "but I've got hand and crib.

Now then."

"Sixteen," said Vidler triumphantly, as he threw down his cards and stuck a peg in the winning hole.

"Think of that now," said Salome, as she gathered up the cards for what she called a good shuffle, which was performed by dividing the pack in two equal portions and holding them as if about to build a card house, allowing them to fall alternately one over the other. Then they were knocked together hard and square, and handed to Vidler, who gave them what he termed "a Canterbury poke," which consisted in rapidly thrusting his forefinger right to the centre of the pack and driving out a large portion of the cards, which were afterwards placed upon the top. Then the pack was cut once more, and game after game followed till suddenly there was a loud ring at the bell.

"What was that?" cried Salome.

"The coffin," said Vidler solemnly.

"Bless us and save us, man, don't look like that!" cried Salome; "it turns me cold all down my back;" and then, with a shiver, and very wide-open eyes, she followed her little lord up to the front door, where Huish's maid was waiting with a note and a cab to take Renee away.

This caused a little flutter upstairs, and a greater one down, where Jane, with a few additions of her own, related the arrest of her master.

"It was trouble, then, and not death," said Vidler sagely to his wife, who then had to answer the bell, and a.s.sist Renee, who, after a short conference with Captain Millet, dressed and hurried off to join her sister.

"Good-bye, my dear," said the Captain, sighing. "I shall not go to bed.

You may return."