The Rosery Folk Part 42

"Regular, my lad," said one of the guards. "You saw the gent before, didn't you, George?"

"Yes; he was walking up and down the platform for half an hour first,"

said the ticket-collector. "I hadn't noticed the other, because he was outside the gate waiting."

"Well, tell us all about it," said the clerk.

"Oh, there ain't much to tell," said the guard who had spoken first. "I saw the girl get in at Lympton, regular stylish-looking body, nice figure, closely veiled. I thought it meant sixpence perhaps; and took her bag, and ran and opened a first-cla.s.s, when she quite staggered me as she says: 'Third cla.s.s, please.' Well, of course that made me notice her more than once, as we stopped coming up, and I could see that she had been crying and was in trouble."

The little party grew more interested and drew closer.

"Somehow, I couldn't help seeing that there was something wrong, for she tried to avoid being noticed, squeezing herself up in the corner of the compartment, and then being very fidgety at every station we stopped at, till I slapped my leg as I got into the break, and says to myself: 'She's off!'"

"Ah, it would look like it," said the clerk, nodding, and letting his pen slip from behind his ear, so that it fell, sticking its nib like an arrow in the boarded floor.

"Yes; I wasn't a bit surprised to see a dark good-looking gentleman on the platform, peeping into every carriage as the train drew up; and I managed to be close to her door as the gent opened it and held out his hand."

"'Why didn't you come first-cla.s.s, you foolish girl?' he says in a whisper; and she didn't answer, only gave a low moan, like, and let him help her out on to the platform, when he draws her arm right through his, so as to support her well, catches up her little bag, and walks her along towards George here; and I felt so interested, that I followed 'em, just to see how matters went."

"You felt reg'lar suspicious then?" said one of the porters.

"I just did, my lad; so that as soon as they'd pa.s.sed George here, him giving up the girl's ticket, I wasn't a bit surprised to see a great stout fellow in a velveteen jacket and a low-crowned hat step right in front of 'em just as my gent had called up a cab, lay one hand on the girl's arm, and the other on the gent's breast, and he says, in a rough, country sort o' way: 'Here, I want you.'"

"Just like a detective," said the clerk.

"Not a bit, my lad--not a bit," said the guard. "Reg'lar bluff gamekeeper sort of chap, who looked as if he wouldn't stand any nonsense; and as soon as she saw him, the girl gives a little cry, and looks as if she'd drop, while my gent begins to bl.u.s.ter.--'Stand aside, fellow,' he says. 'How dare you! Stand back!' The big bluff fellow seemed so staggered by the gent's way, that for just about a moment he was checked. Then he takes one step forward, and look here--he does so."

"Oh!" shouted the clerk, for the guard brought down one muscular hand sharply upon his shoulder and gripped him tightly.

"Lor' bless you, my lad! that's nothing to it. He gripped that gent's shoulder so that you a'most heard his collar-bone crack; and he turned yellow and gashly like, as the other says to him with a growl as savage as a bear, 'You want to wed my sister, eh? Well, you shall. I won't leave you till you do.'"

"That was business and no mistake," said the other guard; "wasn't it?"

"Ay, and he meant business too," continued the first speaker, "for the gent began to bl.u.s.ter, and say, 'How dare you!' and 'I'll give you in charge;' and then he calls for a policeman; and then 'Tak' howd o' my sister,' says the big fellow."

"Ay, that was it," said the ticket-collector. "'Tak' howd,' just like a Yorkshireman."

"George there catches the girl, as was half-fainting; and as there was getting quite a crowd now, the bluff fellow tightens his grip, brings Mr Gent down on his knees, and gives him such a thrashing with a stout ash-stick as would have half killed him, if we hadn't interfered; and Thompson come up and outs with his book. 'Here,' he says, just like one of the regular force; 'I'll take the charge.'"

"When," said the second guard, "up jumps my gentleman, and made the cleanest run for it, dodging through the crowd, and out through the ticket-office, you ever saw."

"Ay," said the ticket-collector; "and he run round so as to get to the waterside, and over Charing Cross Bridge."

"And did Thompson take up the countryman?"

"No," said the guard. "He gave his name out straightforward--William Cressy, Rayford, Berks. 'I'm there when I'm wanted,' he says. 'This here's my sister as that chap was stealing away, and I've thrashed him, and I'll do it again if ever we meets.'"

"And then the crowd gave a cheer," said the ticket-collector.

"And Thompson put his book in his pocket," said the second guard.

"And the countryman walked the girl off to a cab, put her in, jumped in himself, and the crowd cheered again; and that's about all."

"And I'd have given him a cheer too, if I'd been there," said the clerk, flushing. "Why, if a fellow as calls himself a gentleman was to treat my sister like that, I'd half-kill him, law or no law."

"And serve him right too," was chorused.

Then the business of catching parcels began again; the indignant clerk continued his entering; a little more conversation went on in a desultory manner, and the guards and ticket-collector off duty walked home.

The station was disturbed by no more extraordinary incident that night.

Trains went and trains came, till at last there was only one more for the neighbourhood of Scarlett's home.

Doctor Scales was standing on the platform thinking, and in that confused state of mind that comes upon nearly every one who is in search of a person in the great wilderness of London, and has not the most remote idea of what would be the next best step to take. He was asking himself whether there was anything else that he could do. He had been to the police, given all the information that he could, and the telegraph had been set in motion. Then he had been told that nothing more could be done--that he must wait; and he was waiting, and thinking whether he ought to telegraph again to Scarlett; to take the last train due in a few minutes, and go down again; or stay in town, and see what the morrow brought forth.

"I'll stay," he said at last; and he turned to go, feeling weary and in that disgusted frame of mind that comes over a man who has been working hard mentally and bodily for days, and who then finds himself low-spirited and thoroughly vexed with everything he has done. It is a mental disease that only one thing will cure, and that is sleep. It was to find this rest that the doctor had turned, and was about to seek his chambers, when he came suddenly upon the object of his search--f.a.n.n.y Cressy--closely veiled and hanging heavily upon the great arm of her stalwart brother.

"You here, Cressy?" cried the doctor excitedly.

"Yes, sir," said the farmer fiercely. "Hev you got to say anything again it?"

"No, man, no! But you--you have found your sister."

"I hev, sir," said Cressy, more fiercely still. "Hev you got anything to say again that--or _her_?" he added slowly.

"No, no; only I say, thank heaven!" cried the doctor fervently. "I came up to try and overtake her."

"You did, sir? Then thank you kindly," said the farmer, changing the stout walking-stick he carried from one hand to the other, so as to leave the right free to extend for a hearty shake. He altered his menacing tone too, and seemed to interpose his great body as a sort of screen between his sister and the doctor as he continued in a low voice, only intended for the other's ear: "Don't you say nowt to her; I've said about enough.--And it's all right now," he said, raising his voice, as if for his sister to hear. "Me and f.a.n.n.y understands one another, and she's coming home wi' me; and if any one's got to say anything again her for this night's work, he's got to talk to William Cressy, farmer, Rayford, Berks."

There was a low sob here; and the doctor saw that the drooping girl was clinging tightly to her brother's arm.

"I am sure," said the doctor quietly, "no one would be so brutal as to say anything against a trusting woman, who placed faith in a scoundrel."

"Doctor Scales!" cried f.a.n.n.y, raising her head as she was about to say a few words in defence of the man she loved.

"You hold your tongue, Fan," said the farmer firmly. "The doctor's right. He is a scoundrel, a regular bla'guard, as you'd soon have found out, if old John Monnick hadn't put me up to his games."

"Bill, dear Bill!" sobbed the girl.

"Well, ain't he? If he'd been a man, and had cared for you, wouldn't he have come fair and open to me, as you hadn't no father nor mother? And if he'd meant right, would he have sneaked off like a whipped dog, as he did to-night!"

"Your brother is right, f.a.n.n.y," said the doctor quietly.--"Now, let's get back, and I can ease the minds of all at the Rosery. It was at Sir James's wish that I came; and I have been setting the police at work to find your whereabouts."

"Sir James always was a gentleman," said the farmer, giving his head a satisfied nod; "and it puzzles me how he could have had a cousin who was such a bla--Well, it's no use for you to nip my arm, Fan; he is a bla'guard, and I'm beginning to repent now as I didn't half-kill him, and--"

"There goes the last bell," cried the doctor, hurriedly interposing; and taking the same compartment as the brother and sister, he earned poor weak f.a.n.n.y's grat.i.tude on the way down by carefully taking her brother's thoughts away from Arthur Prayle and her escapade, and keeping him in conversation upon questions relating to the diseases of horses, cows, and sheep.

Volume 2, Chapter XIV.

MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE.