Original Penny Readings Part 18

"Go away!" cried Mr Smith, in an agitated and very cracked voice. "Go away, there's no one here!"

"Ho! ain't there," said the gruff voice; and then there was a suppressed t.i.tter. "You're sure it's him?" said another voice.

"Oh, yes," said some one in a high treble; "he's got his head shaved."

"Right you are," said the same gruff voice, and then Mr Smith turned all of a cold perspiration.

"But my good man," he gasped out at last through the keyhole, as he shivered in the dark, "it's all a mistake: I'm not the man."

"Now, are you a-going to stash that ere gammon, or am I to come through the door?--that's what I wants to know," growled the voice.

"Good heavens! what a position," gasped Mr Smith. "My good man," he cried again, "I'm not mad at all."

"Oh, no, of course not; n.o.body never said you was," said the voice.

"It's all right; open the door; it's only me, Grouser, yer know."

But Mr Smith _didn't_ know Grouser; neither did he wish to; for he wanted a quiet night's rest, and to go off by the first train; but he resolved to try another appeal.

"M-m-m-m-my good man, will you go away, please?"

b.u.mp! came a heavy body against the door, making the lock chatter, and the inner part.i.tion vibrate.

"Go away, please," gasped Mr Smith; "or I'll call the landlord."

b.u.mp! came the noise, and then the gruff voice, "Now, you'd best open, my tulip."

"Landlord!" screamed Mr Smith.

"Yes, sir, I'm here!" cried a fresh voice. "Now, why don't you come quietly, sir; the gentleman only means it for your good, and if you have any money, I hope you'll pay your bill."

"He ain't got a blessed halfpenny, bless you," growled the voice of the man Mr Smith took to be the keeper, but he was so confused by waking up from a heavy sleep, that he began to pa.s.s his hand over his head, and to wonder whether he really was sane.

b.u.mp! came the noise again, and then there was a whispering, and the gruff voice cried, "Don't you go away!" And then, to his great horror, through the thin wood part.i.tion, Mr Smith heard people moving in the next room, and a clattering noise as if a washstand was being moved from before the door that he had tried that night and found fast, but piled the chairs up against for safety sake. Directly after came the rattling of a key, and the cracking of the paint-stuck door, as if it were years since it had been opened; but Mr Smith could stop to hear no more.

Hurriedly turning his key, he dashed open his door, gave a yell of terror, and charging out, scattered half a score of the inn-tenants standing in the gallery, candle in hand. There was a wild shrieking, the overturning of candlesticks, and women fainting, and then, as two or three made very doubtful efforts to stop the bald-headed figure, it leaped over a prostrate chambermaid, and dashed along the balcony.

"Hie! stop him, hie!" was the shout that rang behind; but Mr Smith ran on, then along the other side, closely followed by him of the gruff voice, while two more went the other way.

"Look out," roared the keeper, "or he'll do you a mischief!" and so, as Mr Smith came along the fourth side of the yard balcony, the landlord and helper allowed themselves to be dashed aside, and this time with force; while with shrieking women in front of him, Mr Smith rushed on.

Screams and yells, and cries, as the fugitive panted on reaching the second turn of the gallery, when hearing the gruff-voiced one close behind, he stole a look over his shoulder, and shuddered at the faint glimpse he obtained of a huge, burly figure, whose aspect made him tear on more frightened than ever, as the gruff voice roared to him to stop.

But there was no stop in Mr Smith, for as the moonbeams shone through the gla.s.s at his side, he could just make out that some one was holding a door in front ajar and peeping out, when, without thinking of anything else but getting somewhere to parley with his pursuer, Mr Smith dashed at the door, sent some one staggering backwards, while he had the door banged to and locked in an instant.

"For Heaven's sake, save me," gasped Mr Smith; "and excuse this intrusion, Sir."

"Oh, to be sure," said a voice from the corner, where it was quite dark; "but you need not have knocked at the door so loud. You are from the moon, of course, and how did you leave Plutina and the Bluegobs?"

"Wh, wh-wh-wh-what?" gasped Mr Smith.

"Come to the window, Sir, and we'll enlighten the present generation; I'm the grand Porkendillo, Sir, and--"

"Now, then, open this here door," growled a savage voice in the gallery.

"Begone, slave," cried the voice from out of the dark, and then to Mr Smith's horror, a short figure crossed to the window, and he could see the outline of a smooth bald head upon the blind, which was directly afterwards dragged down and wrapped round the person into whose room the fugitive had run.

A light now broke upon Mr Smith; here was the real Simon Pure; but what a position to be in, locked in the same room with a madman--a shaven-headed lunatic, escaped from some private asylum.

"My Lord; Most Grand one, open the door and admit your slave," came in a hoa.r.s.e whisper through the keyhole.

"Is the banquet prepared?" said the madman.

"Yes, my lord," croaked the keeper.

"Is Bootes there? Have Arcturus, Aldebaran, Orion, and Beta Pi a.s.sembled?"

"Yes, my lord, and it's done to a touch," growled the keeper.

"Prostrate thyselves, then, slaves, and let the winds all blow and boom.

I come. Ha! a spy," cried the madman, rushing at Mr Smith, who in his great horror leaped upon the bed, and buried himself beneath the clothes in which he enveloped himself so closely, that his adversary could not drag him forth.

"Come forth, thou traitor," shrieked the madman, tearing at the clothes so fiercely, that a huge bundle rolled off the bed on to the floor, wherein, half-smothered, lay poor Mr Smith, in a most profuse state of perspiration.

All at once there was a cessation of the kicks and thumps, but a threatening of an increased state of suffocation, for there seemed to the covered man to be a struggle going on, and two or three people fell upon him. Then there came the buzz of voices, and he found himself gently unrolled from the ma.s.s of clothing, to sit up, staring around with white head and flushed face at the room full of people, while in one corner closely guarded by his keeper stood the Grand Porkendillo, sucking his thumb, and leering at every one in turn. For this gentleman having made his escape from the neighbouring establishment of a famous doctor, had taken refuge in the Golden Bull, whose landlord was most profuse in his apologies to Mr Smith, for the mistake that had been made.

But, as the chambermaid said when Mr Smith had taken his departure:--

"Lor', Sir, as soon as they said the poor man's head was shaved, I made sure it was him."

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

TO BE SOLD BY AUCTION.

"Sale now on," was stuck upon the door-posts of a good-sized house that I was pa.s.sing the other day--a house that an agent would call "a genteel family mansion;" for the agent, taught by his trade, knows that it is not always expedient to call a spade a spade, so he tickles the taste of his customers by talking of "villas, cottages ornees, snug boxes, delightful residences," etcetera; in short, anything but what a plain, matter-of-fact person would bring forth to dub the home wherein he pa.s.sed his hours of rest. "Sale now on," in black letters six inches high. There were bills in the windows bearing the name of a well-known auctioneer, which was in itself sufficient to guarantee that it was a genuine sale; a large hearthrug was swung, banner fashion, out of the first-floor window, bearing also a bill, enumerating the valuable household furniture, and about the door were several snuffy-looking men in carpet caps, some with very Israelitish aspects, but all looking very fleecy and fluffy, and wearing the appearance of buying a secondhand suit of clothes once in a year, putting it on, and keeping it on until it dropped off of its own accord.

Being something of a saunterer, auction sales very frequently come under my notice, and possess something of an attraction for me; not that I go as a bargain hunter, for it is only on very, very rare occasions that I make a purchase; but I like to see how my fellow-man and woman buy their bargains, and also to moralise, in my own small way, upon the changes that may have taken place in the house before the "whole of the valuable and modern household furniture" was placed in the hands of the "going, going, gone" man, to dispose of without reserve. I have been in some strange places in my travels, and seen some strange auctions, especially those in the electro-plate line at a shop in a leading thoroughfare; but the touter at the door never asks me in now, and the gentleman in the rostrum never seeks to catch my eye for another bid. My impression is that they do not want me, but look upon me as a rogue towards them; and verily I believe that I am, if they occupy the standard position of honest men. I could fill some pages with the reflections I have made upon different auctions at which I have been present--of the struggling, failing tradesman, turned out of house and home, watching with bitterness his household G.o.ds sacrificed upon the altar of Mammon--of the recklessly furnished house of the bankrupt speculator--of the little four-roomed house in the suburbs--all have their own especial history; but upon this occasion I am writing of the buyers more especially, and of the especial house spoken of at the head of this paper.

"Sale now on; fuss floor, sir," said one of the grubby individuals before referred to; and as I ascended the stairs, which showed plainly where the rich velvet pile carpet, lot 94 in the catalogue, had lain, I was attacked on both flanks by a couple of gentlemen of very seedy, but decidedly not ripened appearance, who were very desirous of executing any little commissions for me. "Was there anything I had marked in the catalogue?" One of these gents soon gave me up, but the other seemed determined that if he failed in hooking a gudgeon, it should not be for want of perseverance; so he followed me up most pertinaciously, and on reaching the sale room--the three drawing-rooms thrown into one--began to expatiate upon everything which seemed to have attracted my eye. The pianoforte was the very one that would suit me, and he could tell me the figure to a T that I ought to give for it, which was not the strict letter of the truth.

It was of no avail that I tried to get rid of him, so I sat down in a corner near the auctioneer, and watched the progress of the sale and the countenances of the buyers.

"_Going_ at three ten; going at three ten; _going_ at three _ten_--"

"Tap" went the hammer, and a Mr Cohen became the owner of a rosewood loo table.

Several more lots were disposed of, when a large feather-bed was placed by the porters upon the table. It might have been stuffed with feathers of gold from the way in which it was immediately attacked and punched.

I was almost knocked over in the rush; and for a moment it appeared as though the twelve tribes of Israel had resolved, to a man, upon thrusting their arms right up to the elbow in the soft and yielding bed.