Sawn Off Part 39

"Let me have one word in, mother, if it's only edgewise," cried d.i.c.k.

"There, go on--I know what you are about to say."

"No, you don't, mother; so don't aggravate. I say it's Fred."

"I know you do."

"For this reason. He's forbid the house, and I won't have it; for I hear nothing but what's bad spoken of him. I won't have him here. He ain't worthy of her. So he can't come, and she, poor girl, frets about it; and if she don't get better I shall have to give in. Now, you say it's Tom."

"Yes," said Mrs Shingle, nodding her head.

"Well, then, why don't he come? or why don't she send for him and make it right? Can't you see that if it were as you say, all would be right directly?"

Mrs Shingle shook her head.

"That's right; be obstinate, mother, when you know there's nothing to prevent his coming."

Jessie came in directly, looking very pale and sweet in her sadness: her eyes were sunken with wakefulness, but she had a smile for both, and an affectionate kiss before taking her place at the table; where, after kicking himself in his misery, d.i.c.k set-to, pretending not to notice his child's depression, though he felt a bitter pang at his heart as he was guilty of every bit of clowning in his efforts to bring a smile from the suffering girl's eyes.

At times, though, he was very absent, and his tongue went on talking at random--of the last thing, perhaps, that he had seen--while his mind was far away. In fact, had his brother been present, with witnesses, he would have had strong grounds for saying that d.i.c.k's brain was softening at the very least.

He began with grace, standing up, and very reverently said the customary formula, ending "truly thankful. Amen. Pure pickles, sauces, and jams," he continued, for his eye had lighted upon the label of a bottle in the silver stand.

He started the next moment, and looked round, with one hand in his breast, to see if the string of his front was all right, for he occasionally put on one of those delusive articles of linen attire when he dressed for dinner, and always went in torture for the rest of the evening, on account of the treacherous nature of the garment--one which invariably seeks to betray the weakness of a man's linen-closet by bursting off strings or creeping insidiously round under his arm. In fact, one of Richard Shingle's, on a certain evening, deposited the bottom of the well-starched plaits in his soup, by making a dive out from within his vest as he leaned forward.

"Gla.s.s of wine, Jessie?" said d.i.c.k, as the dinner went on; and to oblige him the poor girl took a little, just as Mrs Shingle exclaimed--

"Bless me! I have no handkerchief. Did you take my handkerchief, Jessie?"

"Lor'! mother, don't talk of your handkerchief as if it was a pill. You do roll 'em up pretty tight, but not quite so bad as that."

The boy, who was waiting at table, exploded in a burst of laughter, which he tried to hide by rattling the gla.s.ses on the sideboard, and then turning uncomfortable as his master gave him a severe frown.

"What's the pudden, my dear?" said d.i.c.k at last.

"It's a new kind," said Mrs Shingle. "You'll have some? I told the cook how to make it."

"That I will, and so will Jessie. I always like your puddens, mother, they make one feel so good while one's eating them--they're so innocent."

"You've not seen any more of your brother, I suppose?" said Mrs Shingle just then, inadvertently.

"Well, I have seen him," said d.i.c.k,--"twice. He's up to some little game."

"What do you mean?"

"Why, that he's got a man always watching me. He follows me like my shadow. He wants to find out my business, or else he's going to try on his little dodge again. But I'm not afraid. Jessie, my gal, what is it?"

"Nothing, father--nothing," she said, trying to smile as she rose from the table. "The room is too hot. I think I'll go upstairs."

"I'll go with you, my darling," exclaimed Mrs Shingle; but Jessie insisted on her staying, and she had her own way, going up to sit at her window, as was her wont, to watch wistfully along the darkened road for the relief that seemed as if it would never come.

She had been there about an hour, when suddenly she started up, and gazed down excitedly into the garden, where she could plainly make out the figure of a man; and as she looked he raised his hands to her and sharply beckoned her to come down.

"At last!" she cried, with a look of joy flashing from her eyes; and, going to the door, she listened for a few moments, hesitated, and then went below to the breakfast-room, which opened with French cas.e.m.e.nts on to the garden, unfastened one, and in the dim light a figure pa.s.sed in rapidly and closed the window.

There were two men standing in the shadow of a gate on the other side, one of whom scribbled something quickly on a page of a note-book, and gave it to the other, with the words--

"Run--first cab! Don't lose a moment."

A quarter of an hour later, just as d.i.c.k and his wife were about to leave the dining-room, there was a sharp knock at the door, followed by the trampling of feet in the hall, and Union Jack's voice heard in protestation--

"I tell you he's at dinner, and won't be disturbed. Master always gives strict orders that--"

"Tell your master that Mr Maximilian Shingle insists upon seeing him on business."

"Does he?" said d.i.c.k sharply. And he stood at the door, looking at his brother, and flourishing a dinner napkin about, as his eyes lighted upon his two companions; while a nervous feeling akin to alarm came upon him, for he saw that they were two well-dressed, keen-looking men.

"They're mad doctors--both of 'em," thought d.i.c.k, "and they're going to listen to what I say, sign certificates, and have me dragged away.

They'll have a tough job of it if they do, though," he muttered. "Yes, and there's the carriage just come up that's to take me off," he continued, as there was the noise of wheels stopping at the door.

"Don't open that door, John," he cried aloud.

But he was too late; for the boy had opened the door on the instant, and before he could shut it, Hopper, closely followed by Tom, entered the hall.

"Oh, it's you, is it?" said d.i.c.k, nodding, and feeling relieved.

"Hey? Yes, it's me," said Hopper quietly. "We thought we'd just drop in."

"Well, then, Mr Max Shingle, perhaps you'll be good enough to tell me what you want, disturbing me at my dinner?" said d.i.c.k sharply.

"Well, the fact is," said Max, smiling maliciously, but rubbing his hands and trying to look smooth the while, "these gentlemen and I--"

"Let's see," said d.i.c.k coolly; for he felt now that he was well backed up. "But, stop a moment. John, my lad, fetch a policeman."

"By all means," said Max eagerly. "Get one, my boy." The lad, who had been staring with open eyes, unfastened the door, to find one close at hand, beating his gloves together, probably attracted by the scent of something going on.

"Here's one outside, sir," cried the boy eagerly.

"That's right," said d.i.c.k. "Here, you Number something, come in.

You're to see fair over this, my man."

He nodded to Tom and Hopper, who were both singularly silent, and then turned to Max, as the front door was closed; and Mrs Shingle stood half in the dining-room, a wondering spectator of the proceedings.

"Now, Mr Max, if you please," said d.i.c.k quietly, "proceed. You say these gentlemen--who I know again: they've been watching me, I suppose, to make up a case, ever since that little brotherly quarrel of ours; and now, I suppose, they've found it all out."

"You shall hear what they've found out directly," said Max, rubbing his hands.

"My secret, I suppose," said d.i.c.k, laughing. "Well, I don't mind that."