The Admirable Tinker Part 12

"In a quarter of an hour," said Tinker, and he gave him nothing sooner for all his clamorous entreaties.

After a second sandwich the money-lender was another man, and Tinker, seeing that he was not ill, said, "I must be going; I have a long ride to post this letter"; and he began to hand in the rest of the food through the window.

"Be careful not to eat it all up at once," he said. "It's got to last you till to-morrow."

"What's this! What's this!" cried Mr. Lambert. "You promised to release me when you got the letter!"

"When I get the promissory note, or when my father's solicitor gets it.

I've told him to wire."

The money-lender snarled like a dog; his brilliant idea had proved of no good. He stormed and stormed; Tinker was cheerful, but indifferent.

He thrust a rug he had brought with him through the window, summoned his phantom band, and rode away.

Mr. Lambert spent a gloomy, but, thanks to the soothing of his stomach, a not uncomfortable day. He was very sad that he had lost the chance of swindling Sir Tancred Beauleigh out of 1450 pounds; and his sadness and an occasional twinge of rheumatism filled him with thoughts of revenge. Slowly he formed a plan of disabling Tinker by an unexpected kick when he opened the door, thrashing him within an inch of his life, riding off on his pony, and leaving him helpless, to starve or not, according as he might be found. This plan was a real comfort to him.

He pa.s.sed an unhaunted night; and next morning Tinker brought him more food. For some hours he played at robber baron, and now and again held conversations about the money-lender with his band. None of them contained compliments. Mr. Lambert watched him with a sulky malignity, and matured his plan.

The next morning he awoke late, but very cheerful at the prospect of freedom and revenge. He came to the window rubbing his hands joyfully, and saw a little parcel hanging from the bars. He opened it, and found the key of the door, a little compa.s.s, and a letter. Swearing at his vanished chance of revenge, he opened it; it ran:

Fly at once. Steer N. E. for Tulyspathe. Hamish believes you are uncanny, and has molded a silver bullet out of a half crown to lay your resless spirrit with. His rifel is oldfashuned, but he will not miss and waist the half crown he is so thriffty.

A SEKRET WORNER.

Mr. Lambert steered N.E. at once; he went not like the wind, but as much like the wind as his soft, short legs would carry him. He scanned every bush and gully with fearful eyes; he gave every thicket a wide berth, and every time he saw Hamish, and he saw him behind a thousand bushes and boulders, he shouted: "I'm Mr. Lambert from London, I'm not a spirit!"

It was, indeed, a wasted and dirty money-lender who reached Tullispaith late in the day. He had but one thought in his mind, to fly immediately after dinner from this expansive and terrifying country.

He wired to his guests not to come; he discharged his servants; and as he crossed the border next day, he bade farewell to the stern and wild Caledonia in a most impressive malediction.

When Sir Tancred Beauleigh received his lawyer's letter containing the promissory note, he was not a little bewildered; Tinker was quick to enlighten him; and he heard that angel child's explanation of his application of mediaeval German methods to a modern monetary difficulty with a grateful astonishment.

CHAPTER NINE

TINKER INTERVENES

Sir Tancred lingered on at Ardrochan Lodge, for he saw that in that strong air Tinker was losing the last of the delicacy which had been the effect of his attack of scarlet fever. And when Lord Crosland and two other men joined him there, he was very well contented. The others shared his content; Tinker, more and more the Baron Hildebrand of Ardrochan, was quite happy, and there they stayed till the Scotch winter came down on them in all its fell severity.

Then they moved southwards to Melton Mowbray, and hunted till the frost put an end to that sport. On the third night of the frost, as they were cutting for partners for a fresh rubber of bridge, Lord Crosland said: "I tell you what, Beauleigh, the sooner we get out of this weather the better. Let's be off to Monte Carlo, make up a pool, and try that system of yours."

"It's a very good idea," said Sir Tancred. "The only question is whether the English winter isn't good for Tinker. It's hardening, you know."

"Always Tinker," said Lord Crosland with a smile. "I tell you what, Nature ought to have made you a woman: what a splendid mother you'd have made!"

"I think she'd have found she'd made a pretty bad mistake," said Sir Tancred.

"Besides," said Lord Crosland, "the Admirable is as hard as a tenpenny nail as it is. I've never seen the little beggar tired yet; and I've seen him at the end of some hardish days."

"Well, we'll see," said Sir Tancred. "We're partners." And the game went on.

Next morning he asked Tinker if he would like to go to the south of France, or stay and be hardened. Tinker thought a while, made up his mind that his father would like to go to the South of France, and said, "I think I'm hard enough, sir,--to go on with. Besides,

"When the wind is in the East It's neither fit for man nor beast.

In fact it shrivels me up. I should like some sunshine."

"Then we will go," said Sir Tancred.

Accordingly, the middle of the next week found them lodged at the Hotel des Princes, Monte Carlo, enjoying the nourishing sunshine of the Riviera. At least Tinker was enjoying it; the demands of a system required his father and Lord Crosland to spend most of their day in the darker, though hardly cooler air of the Temple of Fortune. But the system went well, and they did not repine.

The first time he dined in the restaurant of the hotel, Sir Tancred was disagreeably surprised to see sitting at a neighbouring table his loathed uncle, Sir Everard Wigram. They had met now and again during the past nine years; but as such a meeting had always resulted in some severe wound to the Baronet's dignity, he shunned his nephew like the pest, and abused him from a distance. At the same table sat a charming, peach-complexioned English girl. After a careful scrutiny of her, Sir Tancred decided that she must be his cousin Claire, Sir Everard's eldest child, and admitted with a very grudging reluctance that even the rule that thorns do not produce grapes is proved by exceptions. The third person at their table was a handsome young man, with glossy black hair, a high-coloured, florid face, and a roving black eye. Sir Tancred's gaze rested on him with a malicious satisfaction; he knew all about Mr. Arthur Courtnay.

Presently Lord Crosland's eye fell on that table. "Hullo!" he said sharply. "How on earth comes that bounder Courtnay to be dining with the Wigrams?"

"Like to like," said Sir Tancred with a surprising, cheerful animation.

A few mornings later Sir Tancred, Tinker, and Lord Crosland were sitting in the gardens of the Temple of Fortune, and on a bench hard by sat Claire and Courtnay. He was bending over her, talking volubly, in a loverlike att.i.tude, exceedingly offensive in so public a place. To Sir Tancred's shrewd eyes he seemed to be deliberately advertising their intimacy. She was gazing dreamily before her with happy eyes, over the sea. Lord Crosland grew more and more fidgety; and at last he said hotly, "You ought to interfere!"

"Not I!" said Sir Tancred. "I'm not going to interfere. I have enough to do to keep Tinker out of mischief without acting as dry-nurse to the children of Uncle b.u.mpkin."

"But hang it all, the man's a regular bad hat!" said Lord Crosland.

"He was advised to resign from the Bridge Club, and I happen to know that he is actually wanted in London about a cheque."

"And in Paris, Berlin, Petersburg, Vienna, and Buda-Pesth. Men who speak French as well as he does always are," said Sir Tancred. "Which reminds me, Tinker, your accent is getting too good. The honest English tongue was never made to speak French like a Frenchman. Let up on it a little."

"Yes, sir," said Hildebrand Anne.

"But you ought to do something, don't you know?" said Lord Crosland.

"The child's very pretty, and nice, and sweet, and all that. It would be no end of a shame if she came to grief with that bounder Courtnay."

"I won't stir a finger," said Sir Tancred firmly, "for two reasons.

One, b.u.mpkin Wigram helped my stepmother spoil my early life; two, if this bounder Courtnay has got round b.u.mpkin words would be wasted.

b.u.mpkin is as dense and as obstinate as any clodhopper who ever chawed bacon."

"But she's a pretty child and worth saving," said Lord Crosland. "What do you think, Tinker?"

"I should think she was rather inexperienced," said Hildebrand Anne, with admirable judgment.

"Solomon, va!" said Lord Crosland, clutching the boy's ribs, and drawing from him a sudden yell.

"Well, come along; we have a hard day's work before us," said Sir Tancred; and the two of them rose and strolled off towards the Temple of Fortune.

They left Tinker sitting still and thoughtful, the prey of a case of conscience. He knew the story of his father's marriage, his separation from his wife by the action of Lady Beauleigh and Sir Everard. He had been trained to detest them, and to believe any revenge on them a mere act of justice. But his dead mother was but a shadowy figure to him, and this girl was very charming, and sweet, and kind, for he had had a long talk with her one evening, and she had shared a box of chocolates with him. Did those chocolates const.i.tute the tie of bread and salt between them which his father had taught him was so binding? He wished to help the girl, therefore he made up his mind that they did. With a sigh of satisfaction he rose, sauntered up to the absorbed lovers, and began to parade up and down before them. His nearness put something of a check on the eloquence of Mr. Arthur Courtnay, and every time Tinker's shadow fell on them he looked up and frowned.

At last he said, "Go away, my lad, and play somewhere else."

"I don't want any cheek from a hairdresser's a.s.sistant," said Tinker with blithe readiness.