Charlie to the Rescue Part 43

"Now, Mrs b.u.t.t, I expect to stay here for two or three weeks--perhaps longer. My name is Brooke. I was advised to come here by a gentleman in the offices of the City Mission. I shall have no visitors--being utterly unknown in this neighbourhood--except, perhaps, the missionary who parted from me at the door--"

"Mr Stansfield, sir?" said the landlady.

"Yes. You know him?"

"I've knowed 'im for years, sir. I shall only be too pleased to 'ave any friend of 'is in my 'ouse, I a.s.sure you."

"That's well. Now, Mrs b.u.t.t, my motive in coming here is to discover a runaway relation--"

"La! sir--a little boy?"

"No, Mrs b.u.t.t, a--"

"_Surely_ not a little _gurl_, sir," said the landlady, with a sympathetic expression.

"It is of no consequence what or who the runaway relation is, Mrs b.u.t.t; I merely mention the fact in order that you may understand the reason of any little eccentricity you may notice in my conduct, and not perplex your mind about it. For instance, I shall have no regular hours--may be out late or early--it may be even all night. You will give me a pa.s.s-key, and I will let myself in. The only thing I will probably ask for will be a cup of tea or coffee. Pray let me have one about an hour hence. I'm going out at present. Here is a week's rent in advance."

"Shall I put on a fire, sir?" asked Mrs b.u.t.t.

"Well, yes--you may."

"Toast, sir?"

"Yes, yes," said Charlie, opening the outer door.

"'Ot or cold, sir?"

"'Ot, and _b.u.t.tered_," cried Charlie, with a laugh, as he shut the door after him and rendered further communication impossible.

Wending his way through the poor streets in the midst of which his lodging was situated, our hero at last found an old-clothes store, which he entered.

"I want a suit of old clothes," he said to the owner, a Jew, who came forward.

The Jew smiled, spread out his hands after the manner of a Frenchman, and said, "My shop, sir, is at your disposal."

After careful inspection Charlie selected a fustian coat of extremely ragged appearance, with trousers to match, also a sealskin vest of a mangy complexion, likewise a soiled and battered billyc.o.c.k hat so shockingly bad that it was difficult to imagine it to have ever had better days at all.

"Are they clean?" he asked.

"Bin baked and fumigated, sir," answered the Jew solemnly.

As the look and smell of the garments gave some countenance to the truth of this statement, Charlie paid the price demanded, had them wrapped up in a green cotton handkerchief, and carried them off.

Arrived at his lodging he let himself in, entered his room, and threw the bundle in a corner. Then he rang for tea.

It was growing dark by that time, but a yellow-cotton blind shut out the prospect, and a cheery fire in the grate lighted up the little room brightly, casting a rich glow on the yellow-white table-cloth, which had been already spread, and creating a feeling of coziness in powerful contrast to the sensation of dreariness which had a.s.sailed him on his first entrance. When Mrs b.u.t.t had placed a paraffin lamp on the table, with a dark-brown teapot, a thick gla.s.s sugar-bowl, a cream-jug to match, and a plate of thick-b.u.t.tered toast that scented the atmosphere deliciously, our hero thought--not for the first time in his life--that wealth was a delusion, besides being a snare.

"`One wants but little here below,'" he mused, as he glanced round the apartment; "but he wants it longer than _that_," thought he, as his eyes wandered to the ancient sofa, which was obviously eighteen inches too short for him.

"I 'ope you've found 'im, sir," said Mrs b.u.t.t anxiously, as she was about to retire.

"Found who?"

"Your relation, sir; the little boy--I mean gurl."

"No, I have found neither the boy nor the girl," returned the lodger sharply. "Haven't even begun to look for them yet."

"Oh! beg parding, sir, I didn't know there was _two_ of 'em."

"Neither are there. There's only one. Fetch me some hot water, Mrs b.u.t.t, your tea is _too_ good. I never take it strong."

The landlady retired, and, on returning with the water, found her lodger so deep in a newspaper that she did not venture to interrupt him.

Tea over, Charlie locked his door and clothed himself in his late purchase, which fitted him fairly well, considering that he had measured it only by eye. Putting on the billyc.o.c.k, and tying the green cotton kerchief loosely round his neck to hide his shirt, he stepped in front of the looking-gla.s.s above the mantelpiece.

At sight of himself he was prepared to be amused, but he had not expected to be shocked! Yet shocked he certainly was, for the transformation was so complete that it suddenly revealed to him something of the depth of degradation to which he _might_ fall--to which many a man as good as himself, if not better, _had_ fallen. Then amus.e.m.e.nt rose within him, for he was the very beau-ideal of a typical burglar, or a prize-fighter: big, square-shouldered, deep-chested, large-chinned. The only parts that did not quite correspond to the type were his straight, well-formed nose and his clear blue eyes, but these defects were put right by slightly drooping his eyelids, pushing his billyc.o.c.k a little back on his head, and drawing a lock of hair in a drunken fashion over his forehead.

Suddenly an idea occurred to him. Slipping his latchkey into his pocket he went out of the house and closed the door softly. Then he rang the bell.

"Is the gen'leman at 'ome?" he asked of Mrs b.u.t.t, in a gruff, hoa.r.s.e voice, as if still engaged in a struggle with a bad cold.

"What gentleman?" asked Mrs b.u.t.t eyeing him suspiciously.

"W'y, the gen'leman as sent for me to give 'im boxin' lessons--Buck or Book, or some sitch name."

"Brooke, you mean," said Mrs b.u.t.t still suspicious, and interposing her solid person in the doorway.

"Ay, that's the cove--the gen'leman I mean came here this arternoon to lodge wi' a Missis b.u.t.t or Brute, or suthin' o' that sort--air you Mrs Brute?"

"_Certainly_ not," answered the landlady, with indignation; "but I'm Mrs b.u.t.t."

"Well, it's all the same. I ax yer parding for the mistake, but there's sitch a mixin' up o' Brutes an' Brookes, an' b.u.t.ts an' Bucks, that it comes hard o' a man o' no edication to speak of to take it all in. This gen'leman, Mr Brute, 'e said if 'e was hout w'en I called I was to wait, an' say you was to make tea for two, an' 'ave it laid in the bedroom as 'e'd require the parlour for the mill."

The man's evident knowledge of her lodger's affairs, and his gross stupidity, disarmed Mrs b.u.t.t. She would have laughed at his last speech if it had not been for the astounding conclusion. Tea in the bedroom and a mill in the parlour the first night was a degree of eccentricity she had not even conceived of.

"Come in, then, young man," she said, making way. "You'll find Mr Brooke in the parlour at his tea."

The prize-fighter stepped quickly along the dark pa.s.sage into the parlour, and while the somewhat sluggish Mrs b.u.t.t was closing the door she overheard her lodger exclaim--

"Ha! Jem Mace, this is good of you--very good of you--to come so promptly. Mrs b.u.t.t," shouting at the parlour door, "another cup and plate for Mr Mace, and--and bring the _ham_!"

"The 'am!" repeated Mrs b.u.t.t softly to herself, as she gazed in perplexity round her little kitchen, "_did_ 'e order a 'am?"

Unable to solve the riddle she gave it up and carried in the cup and saucer and plate.

"I beg your parding, sir, you mentioned a 'am," she began, but stopped abruptly on seeing no one there but the prize-fighter standing before the fire in a free-and-easy manner with his hands in his breeches pockets.

The light of the street-lamps had very imperfectly revealed the person of Jem Mace. Now that Mrs b.u.t.t saw him slouching in all his native hideousness against her mantelpiece in the full blaze of a paraffin lamp, she inwardly congratulated herself that Mr Brooke was such a big strong man--almost a match, she thought, for Mace!