The Wharf By The Docks Part 31

"Yes. My name is Wedmore."

If the man had had a momentary doubt about him, it was by this time dispelled. He stepped inside the door.

"I must have a look round, if you please, sir." Max held his ground. "I have a warrant for Mr. Horne's arrest."

Max staggered back. And the man pa.s.sed him and went in.

CHAPTER XIX.

A STRANGE PAIR.

As Carrie, with her feminine acuteness, had guessed, Dudley Horne had never had any intention of returning to his chambers for her and Max.

On the contrary, he was delighted to have the opportunity of slipping quietly away, and of evading the solicitude of his friend, as well as the society of Carrie herself, of whom he had a strong but not unnatural mistrust.

No sooner did he reach the street than he hailed a hansom and directed the driver to take him to Limehouse, and to lose no time. Then he sat back in the cab, staring at the reins, while the haggard look on his face grew more intense and the eager expression of expectancy and dread of something impending became deeper every moment.

During the last fortnight, Max, having had his thoughts occupied with his own affairs, had not had so much time for the consideration of those of his friend; and he had lost sight altogether of the theory that Dudley was mad. But if he could have seen Dudley now, with the wild look in his eyes, could have noted the restless movements of his hands, the twitching of his face, the impatience with which he now leaned forward, now back, as if alternately urging the horse forward and holding him back, Max would have felt bound to admit that the case for the young barrister's insanity was very strong.

As soon as the hansom began to thread the narrow streets which lie between Commercial Road and the riverside, Dudley sprang out, paid the man his fare, and walked off at a rapid pace. It was a frosty night, and the ill-clad women who shuffled past him looked pinched and miserable.

Even they, with cares enough of their own on their shoulders, turned to look at him as he pa.s.sed. There was a glare in his black eyes, an uncanny something in his walk, in his look, which made them watch him and wonder who he was, and where he was going to.

But by the time he had reached the riverside street to which his steps were directed, even a chance pa.s.ser-by was a rarity; and the gas-lamps had become so few and far between that no notice would have been taken of him if the traffic had been greater.

His footsteps echoed in the silent street until he reached the wooden door which was the entrance by night to Plumtree Wharf.

The door was shut, and Dudley, apparently surprised by the circ.u.mstance, gave it an impatient shake. Then he heard a slight sound within which told him of the approach of some living creature, and the next moment the door was opened a few inches, and the face of Mrs. Higgs appeared at the aperture.

She uttered a little mocking laugh when she saw who her visitor was and let him in without any other comment.

Dudley strode in, with a frown of displeasure on his face, and waited under the piles of timber while Mrs. Higgs relocked the door. There was a lamp just outside the wooden boarding which shut the wharf in, and by the light of it Dudley got a good look at the old woman's face before she rejoined him; and it seemed to him that the placid expression she usually wore had given place to a look more sinister, more repellent.

She pa.s.sed him, still without a word, but with a nod which he took for an invitation to him to follow her. They pa.s.sed through the little wash-house into the inner room, and Mrs. Higgs seated herself by the fire, and gave her visitor another nod to imply that he might be seated also.

But Dudley was not in a friendly mood. He would not even come near the hearth, but remained close to the door by which he had entered, and gave searching look round the room.

The apartment was so small and so bare that it was not difficult to take stock of its contents, and Mrs. Higgs laughed ironically.

"Isn't the place furnished to your liking?" she asked in a mocking tone.

"Are you looking for the sofas and the sideboards and the silver and the plate?"

Dudley cast at the old woman a look which was more eloquent than he knew of hatred and disgust.

"No," said he, shortly. "I was looking to see whether any of your precious pals were about."

Mrs. Higgs drew her chair nearer to the deal table, and leaning on it with her head resting in her hands, stared at him malignantly.

"My precious pals! My precious pals!" muttered she to herself in an angry tone. "That's the way he talks to me! To me, he owes so much to!

Ah! Ah! Ah!"

These three last e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns were uttered with so much suppressed pa.s.sion, and there gleamed in her dull eyes such a dull look of stupid ferocity, that Dudley withdrew his attention from the cupboard and walls and transferred it wholly to her. After a pause, during which the two seemed to measure each other with cautious eyes, he said, abruptly:

"Do you know why I have come here to-night?"

"To show me a little grat.i.tude at last, perhaps," suggested Mrs. Higgs, sharply. "To do your duty--yes, it's no more than your duty, you know, to do what I tell you--and to help yourself in helping me. That's true, isn't it?"

Dudley stared at her in silence for a few moments before he answered:

"Duty is an odd word to use--a very odd word. But we won't waste time discussing that. You sent a message to me by a girl this evening?"

Mrs. Higgs nodded.

"You want me to defend one of the rascals who make this place their hole, their den?"

Again Mrs. Higgs signified a.s.sent.

"Well, I shall do nothing of the kind. I have done more than enough for you already. I have offered you the means of taking yourself off and of living like a decent creature. I have done everything you could expect, and more. But I will not be mixed up with you and the gang you choose to make your friends; and I will not lift a finger to save your friend the pickpocket from the punishment he deserves."

Dudley spoke with decision, but he made no impression worth speaking of upon his hearer. She continued to look at him with the same expression of dull malignity; and when she spoke, it was without vehemence.

"Well," she began, leaning forward a little more and keeping her eyes fixed upon him, "perhaps you won't have the chance of defending anybody long. There's been a woman about here lately, making inquiries and hunting about, and one of these fine days she may light upon something that'll put her upon your track."

"What do you mean? Whom do you mean?"

"Why, Edward Jacobs's widow, of course. She had an idea where to look, you see."

Dudley could not hide the fact that he was much disturbed by this intelligence.

"Poor woman! Poor woman! Who can blame her?" said he at last, more to himself than to Mrs. Higgs, "I've done what I could for her, sent her money every week since--"

To his amazement, Mrs. Higgs suddenly interrupted him, bringing her fist down upon the table with a sounding thump.

"You fool!" screamed she. "You--fool! You've given yourself away! You deserve all you'll certainly get! Do you suppose a Jewess wouldn't have wits enough to trace you by that? By the fact that you sent her money?"

"But I sent it anonymously," said Dudley.

"That doesn't matter. Money? Postal-orders, I suppose?"

"Yes."

"Well, they can be traced. Oh, you fool, you wooden-headed fool!"

There was a pause. Mrs. Higgs appeared to have exhausted herself in vituperation, while Dudley considered this new aspect of the affair in silence.

"Well," said he at last, "if she does trace me, who will be the sufferer, do you suppose--you or I?"