The Captives Part 78

"Could you tell me, please," she asked, "whether I could see somebody who is in charge of this house--the landlady or--"

"Is there anything I can do?" said a voice behind her.

She turned to find a short stout woman in voluminous black--black bonnet, black cape, black gloves--watching her with sharp bright eyes.

"Are you the landlady?" Maggie asked.

"I ham," said the woman. "Mrs. Brandon--ma'am."

The servant-girl had suspended operations, kneeling up and watching with open mouth developments.

"I'm very glad to meet you," said Maggie. "How do you do?"

"How do you do, ma'am?" said Mrs. Brandon.

"The point is just this," said Maggie, speaking rather fast as though she were confused, which she was not. "Mr. Warlock is a very old friend of mine and I'm afraid he's very ill indeed. He's very ill and there's n.o.body to look after him. What I was wondering was whether there was a bedroom in your house that I could have--so that I could look after him, you see, and get him anything he wants."

Mrs. Brandon overlooked Maggie from head to foot--very slowly she did it, her eyes pa.s.sing over the rather shabby black hat, the short hair, the plain black dress, the shoes worn and soiled. She also looked at Maggie's wedding-ring.

"Well, Mrs.--" she began.

"Mrs. Trenchard is my name," said Maggie, blushing in spite of herself at the long scrutiny.

"I 'ope you're not reproaching anybody with neglect of the gentleman."

She had an action, as she talked, of flinging a very seedy-looking black boa back across her neck vindictively. "Wot I mean to say is that gentleman lodgers must take their chance and e's two weeks overdue with 'is rent as it is ... but of course I'm not saying I couldn't oblige.

'E's a nice gentleman too, although not talkative so to speak, but if it would give 'im 'appiness to 'ave a lady friend close at 'and as you might say, why I wouldn't like to be one to stand in 'is way. 'Live and let live,' 'as always been my motter, and a very good one too."

She said all this very slowly, with a good many significant pauses.

Maggie, however, felt nothing but happiness at the prospect of getting her way. She had gone far beyond all personal sensations of shame or fear or hesitation.

"Would you show me the room, please?" she asked.

They pushed past the servant-girl, whose eyes followed them up the stairs with hungry curiosity.

They climbed to the top of the house. Mrs. Brandon displayed a dark sulky little room with damp of the tomb clinging to its wall.

"Ten bob a week," she said. She sunk her voice to a confidential whisper. "The best of this 'ouse is that you can do what you like. No one minds and no one sees. 'Them as lives in gla.s.s 'ouses.' That's what I say."

"I'll take it," said Maggie.

"You'll be wanting a key, my dear," said Mrs. Brandon, suddenly very friendly. "To let yerself in an' out at nights. I'll fetch yer one."

She did. Maggie thanked her.

"I wonder," she said, "whether you have such a thing as a small basket you could lend me. I'm going out to buy one or two necessaries."

"Certingly," said Mrs. Brandon, all smiles. "Certingly, and anythink else you'll be needing. All you've got to do is ter ask."

This settled, Maggie departed on her shopping expedition. She was still driven by a curious clarity and decision as to what she wanted to do.

She felt as though she could conquer the world to-day and then parcel it out equitably and with success amongst the greedy kings of the earth. What were kings to her now that she had found Martin? Less than the dust ...

Lynton Street offered her nothing but dirty and grime-stained windows, but she found her way into King Edward Street, and here there were many shops. She had not very much money actually upon her, and the remainder of her precious three hundred was locked up in a bank in Skeaton, but it was a bank that had, she knew, branches in London. She looked in her purse and found that she had three pounds, twelve shillings and sixpence. Martin must have his meals upon something other than paper, so the probability was that there was crockery of a kind in his room--or perhaps Mrs. Brandon supplied it. Nevertheless Maggie's first purchases were a blue teapot, two blue plates, and two blue cups and saucers.

As to food she must get something that could be cooked easily on his fire. She bought three of the freshest possible eggs, half a dozen sausages, a loaf of bread, half a pound of b.u.t.ter, two pots of jam, one pot of marmalade, some apples, a pound of tea, a pound of sugar.

"This will do as a start," she said to herself.

She was just about to turn into Lynton Street when she stopped at a flower shop. In the window, smiling at her most fragrantly under the gas-light was a white hyacinth in a blue pot. It seemed to speak to her with, the same significance as once the ring with the three pearls; as though it said: "You've got to use me. I'm a link in the chain."

She went in and asked its price; not very much, considering the splendour of the blue pot. She bought it. She was glad that 13A was not far, because now the basket and the flower weighed heavily upon her.

She climbed the stairs to Martin's room with beating heart. Suppose he had returned and was there and would not let her in? Or suppose, worse than that, that he had returned, packed his bag and gone away again?

Her heart was beating so terribly when at last she had arrived outside the door that she had to put down the hyacinth and the basket and stand for a minute there, panting.

She pushed back the door; the room was lit by the reflection from a lamp in a window on the opposite side of the road; this flickered with a pale uncertain glow across the floor. He was not here. She opened the bedroom door. He had not packed his bag. She sighed with relief. She found a bell and pressed it. To her great surprise the scrubbing maid almost instantly presented herself; curiosity had undoubtedly hastened her steps.

"What's your name?" asked Maggie, smiling.

"Emily," said the girl.

"The first thing I want is a box of matches," said Maggie. "You'll light the gas for me, won't you. The truth is, I'm not quite tall enough to reach it."

Emily lit the gas.

"Thank you so much," said Maggie. "I must have a fire. That's the next thing. This cold room must have been a bad thing for Mr. Warlock with his cough."

"Yes, 'e 'as got a corf," said Emily, watching Maggie with all her eyes.

"Well, do you think I could have a fire?" asked Maggie.

Emily considered.

"I'll ask the missus," she said; "I shouldn't wonder."

She returned soon with coal, wood and newspaper. She also informed Maggie that Mrs. Brandon would like to have a "little in advance if convenient, that being the custom."

Maggie delivered up ten and sixpence and was left with exactly two shillings in her pocket. But how beautiful the room appeared! Emily, whose ugly bony countenance now wore a look of excited breathlessness as though she were playing a new kind of game, discovered a piece of dark sad cloth somewhere in the lower region and this was pinned up over the window. The fire was soon blazing away as though the fireplace rejoiced to have a chance of being warm once more. A shabby but clean table-cloth was discovered and placed upon the table, and in the middle of this the hyacinth was triumphantly stationed.

"Now I tell you what would be nice," said Maggie, also by this time breathless, "and that's a lamp. This gas isn't very pleasant, is it, and it DOES make such a noise."

"It DOES make a noise," said Emily, looking at the gas as though she were seeing it for the first time.

"Well, do you think there's a lamp somewhere?"

Emily licked her finger.

"I'll ask the missus," she said and disappeared. Soon she returned with a lamp, its glories hidden beneath a bright pink paper shade.