A Little World Part 53

This was unexpected. He listened again; no sound. He ran his hand along by the sides of the pews, first here and then there; he went forward, panting heavily the while; he came back, but he was still at fault. The quarry had doubled somehow, and escaped him for the time, and would perhaps reach one of the doors; and in dread of losing his opportunity, Jared ran hastily towards the south door, but only to recollect that there were the north, west, and chancel doors, through any one of which the fugitive might escape while he guarded the south.

Then it struck him where he had been at fault: the enemy of his peace must have crept softly into an open pew and allowed him to pa.s.s. That was it, no doubt; and hurrying back, he was in time to hear the rustling noise very softly at the end of the north aisle, as though his enemy were stealing away. Swiftly as the darkness would allow he hurried on, and once more the chase began. They had pa.s.sed round the church again, and Jared felt that he was gaining ground, when he caught his foot in the matting where it had slightly turned up, and fell heavily, to gather himself up again just in time to feel once more the rush of cold air upon his cheek, and hear the door locked just as he came up.

Jared's hands trembled with agitation as he tore at his pocket to free the key, dragging out the lining; and then, as he held the cold iron in his hand, he could hardly find the hole, so that quite a minute had elapsed before he had dragged the heavy door open, stood amongst the drifted snow in the porch, and taken up the pursuit.

There, in the faint glimmering light, were the deep impressions of footsteps to the church gates, and Jared grimly smiled as he muttered to himself, "A heavy step for a ghost;" but no sooner was he outside the gate than his power of tracking his enemy was gone, for the snow was trampled with footprints crossing and re-crossing, while, though he looked up and down the street, there was nothing to be seen but the glimmering lamps, nor to be heard but the sighing of the cold night wind.

Suddenly he fancied that in the distance he saw a figure crossing the road, and dashed after it as hard as he could run. It turned down a street that he knew well, and, by taking a short cut, Jared felt that he should meet his enemy, if it was the object of his chase; so running down first one street and then another, he neared the bottom outlet of the place he sought, paused a moment to listen, and then could make out the dull deadened sound of coming steps in the snow, apparently nearing him slowly.

To dart round the corner, and grasp the new-comer, was the work of an instant, but it only resulted in his being grasped in return, for the organist was in the hands of the police.

"What time is it?" queried Jared, in a confused manner, as soon as he could open his lips.

"Time you was in bed, I think," said the policeman; and Jared shrank beneath his suspicious looks.

Volume 3, Chapter XII.

ANOTHER MISSING.

"One o'clock, mum," said Mr James Chawner, cordwainer, and member of the society of Campanological Brothers, commonly known by the _soubriquet_ of Beaky Jem, tenor in St Runwald's peal. "One o'clock, mum; it's better nor 'arf past. But if you and Miss here is so wery oneasy, I'll get one of my mates to rouse up and search the place; that is, if _you_ like," thereby clearly indicating that he--Beaky Jem of the Roman nose-- did not much approve of the task.

"It is so very strange," said Mrs Jared; "he left here to go to the church, and he must be there."

"Why, bless your 'art, mum, he ain't been there, or we must have heerd him in the belfry."

"You've been there all the evening then?" said Mrs Jared.

"Ah! that we have, mum--'leven of us, practising for Chrismus. We pulled grand-sire caters, 'sire tribbles, and s'perlative s'prise major.

Never had a finer night, nor more beer up in my time."

"But could you have heard the organ up in the belfry?" said Patty, who had been escorted home by Monsieur Canau quite late in the evening from the shadowed house in Decadia.

"Heard it! bless your 'art, yes, Miss, a rooring away sometimes loud enough to put yer out, and drown the one that leads and cries 'go,' when we makes the change, you know. That there organ ain't blowed a note, nor there ain't been no light in the church this side o' eight o'clock.

And besides, I seed the pleece a kickin' and a cuffin' of young Leathers for shyin' s...o...b..a.l.l.s at the busties."

"Who?" exclaimed Mrs Jared and Patty in a breath.

"Young Charity, mum, young Ikey Gunnis. Howsomever, if it's a coming to who'll go, I'll go, you know; but I'm afeard most of our chaps is about tight--just a little sunny, you know," he added by way of explanation, "for the beer did run free to-night, and no mistake--and I hardly know who else to get, without it's a pleeceman, and they're so precious 'ficious. You see, people's abed now; and I should ha' been there myself if the young missus hadn't come and roused me out. I was asleep aside the kitchen-fire when she come, for there was a sight o' beer up the belfry to-night sewerly."

"I still think that he must have gone to the vicar's," said Patty to her mother. "I knocked as loudly as I could at the church-door, and there seemed to be no one there."

"Perhaps, after all, we had better wait another half-hour," said Mrs Jared.

"Let me go with Mr Chawner," said Patty, eagerly. "The Purkises may have come back now, and they would not mind giving us the keys. I dare say Mr Purkis would go with us, late as it is. He would have gone with me before, I am sure, had he been at home."

"I don't like disturbing people so late; but it makes me very uneasy.

Do you think the little ones would be quiet while we both went?"

The suggestion now offered by Beaky Jem, that the governor might be "a bit on," was, when interpreted, scouted with indignation; and it was at last determined that Patty should stay, while Mrs Jared and Beaky Jem went to Purkis's for the keys, and then searched the church, with or without the beadle's aid.

"Which he won't turn out of his warm bed, bless you," said Mr Chawner; "he's too--"

He did not finish his sentence, for as Mrs Jared, bonneted and shawled, stood with the others in the pa.s.sage, there came a buzz of voices at the front door, and, directly after, a gentle double knock.

"There's something wrong, Patty," gasped Mrs Jared, holding her hand to her side, while the one apostrophised admitted Mr Timson, the vicar, and Purkis the beadle, all very m.u.f.fled and snowy.

"Something struck me that you wouldn't be in bed," began Mr Timson; but he was stopped by the vicar, who brushed by him just in time to catch Mrs Jared as she was staggering to fall.

"Is--is he dead?" she gasped, recovering herself by a strong effort.

"Who? who?" exclaimed the vicar.

"My husband," panted Mrs Jared.

"G.o.d forbid!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the vicar, piously; "no, where is he?"

"He went out before six to the church, and he has not been back," cried Patty, in agitated tones. "They were going now to search for him.

Here--here he is!" she cried, as Jared made his appearance, pale and scared-looking, while Patty flung her arms round his neck.

"There, there, there! shut the door," cried Timson, hastily; "it's all right, it's all right! And now, what do you want here, you sir? You're one of the bell-ringers, ain't you?"

"Right you are, sir," said Beaky Jem, staring with all his eyes.

"Just so--just so. And now you're not wanted, are you? No one wants you--eh? There then, take that, and be off."

Mr Chawner took "that," and went off--"that" wearing very much the appearance of a warm half-crown from Mr Timson's pocket.

But before Mr Chawner was outside the door, he was muttering, "I knowed he was a bit on; but there was a sight o' beer up our way to-night, sewerly."

"We should have been here hours ago," said the vicar, "but the train was stopped by the snow."

"And he wouldn't have come on till the morning, if it hadn't been for me," broke in Mr Timson.

"Let me speak, Timson--let me speak," exclaimed the vicar.

"I won't, I'm--blessed if I do," exclaimed Timson, excitedly, altering the run of his sentence. "It was my doing, and Purkis's here; and you know I made you come on to-night."

The temperature was bitter, but upon Mr Purkis being referred to, he grunted as he stood behind the door busily wiping the perspiration from his head and neck.

"I won't give up to n.o.body," exclaimed Timson, pushing past one and then another into the little parlour, so that he might get to Jared.

"There, sir,--there, Mr Pellet! It's all right, sir!--it's all jolly, sir; and there's my hand,--there it is. There's both of them, sir, and hang the grammar. Shake hands, sir,--shake hands! There's four honest hands together, and G.o.d bless you, sir!" and old Timson shook the tears into Jared's eyes, while his own brimmed over from a different cause.

"Now you may talk to him, sir," said Timson, who, to further relieve his feelings, caught Patty in his arms and kissed her three times,--once on each cheek, and once upon her lips.

"I only meant one, my dear, but they were so good," cried Timson, who seemed half mad, for he now shouted, "Hooray!" and tossed up his hat, kicking it, as it fell, right into the window, to the total destruction of the cracked pane of gla.s.s, with the dab of putty in the centre.

"I say, 'Amen!' to my eccentric friend Timson's remark, Mr Pellet,"

exclaimed the vicar, seizing the disengaged hands, and shaking them warmly. "Mr Pellet, sir, you have been an ill-used man, and I beg your pardon. The sinner is found. G.o.d bless you, Mr Pellet! I hope you forgive me."