Dorothy's Double Volume I Part 1

Dorothy's Double.

by G. A. Henty.

Volume I.

PROLOGUE

A dark night on the banks of the Thames; the south-west wind, heavily charged with sleet, was blowing strongly, causing little waves to lap against the side of a punt moored by the bank. Its head-rope was tied round a weeping willow which had shed most of its leaves, and whose pendent boughs swayed and waved in the gusts, sending at times a shower of heavy drops upon a man leaning against its trunk. Beyond stretched a broad lawn with clumps of shrubs, and behind loomed the shadow of a mansion, but so faintly that it might have pa.s.sed unnoticed in the darkness had it not been for some lights in the upper windows.

At times the man changed his position, muttering impatiently as the water made its way down between his collar and neck and soaked through his clothes to the shoulders.

'I must have been waiting an hour!' he exclaimed at last. 'If she doesn't come soon I shall begin to think that something has prevented her getting out. It will be no joke to have to come again to-morrow night if it keeps on like this. It has been raining for the last three days without a stop, and looks as if it would keep on as much longer.'

A few minutes later he started as he made out a figure in the darkness.

It approached him, and stopped ten yards away.

'Are you there?' a female voice asked.

'Of course I am,' he replied, 'and a nice place it is to be waiting in for over an hour on such a night as this. Have you got it?'

'Yes.'

'That is all right. Well, chuck your bonnet down there, three or four feet from the edge of the water.'

'And my cloak? I have brought that and a shawl, as you told me.'

'No; give it to me. Now get into the boat, and we will shove off.'

As soon as the woman had seated herself in the punt the man unfastened the head-rope and stepped in; then, taking a long pole in his hand, he let the boat drift down with the strong stream, keeping close to the bank. Where the lawn ended there was a clump of bushes overhanging the water. He caught hold of these, broke off two branches that dipped into the stream, then, hauling the punt a little farther in, he took the cloak the woman had handed to him and hitched it fast round a stump that projected an inch or two above the swollen stream.

'That will do the trick,' he said. 'They will find it there when the river falls.' Then he poled the boat out and let her drift again. 'You have brought another bonnet, I see, Polly.'

'You don't suppose I was going to be such a fool as to leave myself bareheaded on such a night as this,' she said sullenly.

'Well, there is no occasion to be bad-tempered; it has been a deal worse for me than it has for you, waiting an hour and a half there, besides being a good half-hour poling this tub up against the stream. I suppose it went off all right?'

'Yes, there was no difficulty about it. I kicked up a row and pretended to be drunk. Not too bad, or they would have turned me straight out of the house, but I was told I was to go the first thing in the morning.

The rest was easy enough. I had only to slip down, get it, and be off, but I had to wait some time at the door. I opened it about an inch or two, and had to stand there listening until I was sure they were both asleep. I am sorry I ever did it. I had half a mind to chuck it up three or four times, but----'

'But you thought better of it, Polly. Well, you were perfectly right; fifty pounds down and a pound a week regular, that ain't so bad you know, especially as you were out of a place, and had no character to show.'

'But mind,' she said threateningly, 'no harm is to come to it. I don't know what your game is, but you promised me that, and if you break your word I will peach, as true as my name is Polly Green. I don't care what they do to me, but I will split on you and tell the whole business.'

'Don't you alarm yourself about nothing,' he said, good-temperedly. 'I know what my game is, and that is enough for you. Why, if I wanted to get rid of it and you too I have only to drive my heel through the side of this rotten old craft. I could swim to sh.o.r.e easily enough, but when they got the drags out to-morrow they would bring something up in them.

Here is the end of the island.'

A few pushes with the pole, and the punt glided in among several other craft lying at the strand opposite Isleworth Church. The man helped the woman with her burden ash.o.r.e, and knotted the head-rope to that of the boat next to it.

'That is how it was tied when I borrowed it,' he said; 'her owner will never dream that she has been out to-night.'

'What next?' the woman asked.

'We have got to walk to Brentford. I have got a light trap waiting for me there. It is a little crib I use sometimes, and they gave me the key of the stable-door, so I can get the horse out and put him in the trap myself. I said I was starting early in the morning, and they won't know whether it is at two or five that I go out. I brought down a couple of rugs, so you will be able to keep pretty dry, and I have got a driving-coat for myself. We shall be down at Greenwich at that little crib you have taken by six o'clock. You have got the key, I suppose?'

'Yes. The fire is laid, and we can have a cup of tea before you drive back. Then I shall turn in for a good long sleep.'

An hour later they were driving rapidly towards London.

CHAPTER I

A slatternly woman was standing at the entrance of a narrow court in one of the worst parts of Chelsea. She was talking to a neighbour belonging to the next court, who had paused for a moment for a gossip in her pa.s.sage towards a public-house.

'Your Sal is certainly an owdacious one,' she said. 'I saw her yesterday evening when you were out looking for her. I told her she would get it hot if she didn't get back home as soon as she could, and she jest laughed in my face and said I had best mind my own business. I told her I would slap her face if she cheeked me, and she said, "I ain't your husband, Mrs. Bell, and if you were to try it on you would find that I could slap quite as hard as you can."'

'She is getting quite beyond me, Mrs. Bell. I don't know what to do with her. I have thrashed her as long as I could stand over her, but what is the good? The first time the door is open she just takes her hook and I don't see her again for days. I believe she sleeps in the Park, and I suppose she either begs or steals to keep herself. At the end of a week maybe she will come in again, just the same as if she had only been out for an hour. "How have you been getting on since I have been away?" she will say. "No one to scrub your floor; no one to help you when you are too drunk to find your bed," and then she laughs fit to make yer blood run cold. Owdacious ain't no name for that wench, Mrs. Bell. Why, there ain't a boy in this court of her own size as ain't afraid of her. She is a regular tiger-cat, she is; and if they says anything to her, she just goes for them tooth and nail. I shan't be able to put up with her ways much longer. Well, yes; I don't mind if I do take a two of gin with you.'

They had been gone but a minute or two when a man turned in at the court. He looked about forty, was clean shaven, and wore a rough great-coat, a scarlet and blue tie with a horseshoe pin, and tightly cut trousers, which, with the tie and pin, gave him a somewhat horsey appearance. More than one of the inhabitants of the court glanced sharply at him as he came in, wondering what business he could have there. He asked no questions, but went in at an open door, picked his way up the rickety stairs to the top of the house, and knocked at a door. There was no reply. He knocked again louder and more impatiently; then, with a muttered oath, descended the stairs.

'Who are you wanting?' a woman asked, as he paused at a lower door.

'I am looking for Mrs. Phillips; she is not in her room.'

'I just saw her turn off with Mother Bell. I expect you will find them at the bar of the Lion, lower down the street.'

With a word of thanks he went down the court, waited two or three minutes near the entrance, and then walked in the direction of the public-house. He had gone but a short distance, however, when he saw the two women come out. They stood gossiping for three or four minutes, and then the woman he was in search of came towards him, while the other went on down the street.

'h.e.l.lo, Mr. Warbles!' Mrs. Phillips exclaimed when she came near to him; 'who would have thought of seeing you? Why, it is a year or more since you were here last, though I must say as your money comes every month regular; not as it goes far, I can tell you, for that girl is enough to eat one out of 'arth and 'ome.'

'Well, never mind that now,' he said impatiently, 'that will keep till we get upstairs. I have been up there and found that you were out. I want to have a talk with you. Where is the girl?'

'Ah, where indeed, Mr. Warbles; there is never no telling where Sal is; maybe she is in the next court, maybe she is the other side of town. She is allus on the move. I have locked up her boots sometimes, but it is no odds to Sal. She would just as lief go barefoot as not.'

By this time they arrived at the door of the room, and after some fumbling in her pocket the woman produced the key and they went in. It was a poverty-stricken room; a rickety table and two chairs, a small bed in one corner and some straw with a ragged rug thrown over it in another, a kettle and a frying-pan, formed its whole furniture. Mr.

Warbles looked round with an air of disgust.

'You ought to be able to do better than this, Kitty,' he said.

'I s'pose as I ought,' she said philosophically, 'but you know me, Warbles; it's the drink as does it.'

'The drink has done it in your case, surely enough,' he said, as he saw in his mind's eye a trim figure behind the bar of a country public-house, and looked at the coa.r.s.e, bloated, untidy creature before him.'

'Well, it ain't no use grunting over it,' she said. 'I could have married well enough in the old days, if it hadn't been that I was always losing my places from it, and so it has gone on, and I would not change now if I could. A temperance chap come down the court a week or two ago, a-preaching, and after a-going on for some time his eye falls on me, and says he to me, "My good woman, does the demon of drink possess you also?" And says I, "He possesses me just as long as I have got money in my pocket." "Then," says he, "why don't you take the pledge and turn from it all?" "'Cause," says I, "it is just the one pleasure I have in life; what should I do I should like to know without it? I could dress more flash, and I could get more sticks of furniture in my room, which is all very well to one as holds to such things, but what should I care for them?" "You would come to be a decent member of society," says he. I tucks up my sleeves. "I ain't going to stand no 'pertinence from you, nor from no one," says I, and I makes for him, and he picks up his bag of tracts, and runs down the court like a little dog with a big dog arter him. I don't think he is likely to try this court again.'