VII
Theboy had no recollection afterwards of what occurred during the long period which intervened between this hour and that remote one in which he saw again his father’s face. How long the darkness lasted and what happened in it he could not tell. He prayed continuously until his flesh ached and his mind grew frail. Yet in the midst of that which seemed to be without a limit, in the midst of an anguish that seemed to have no end, it was borne in upon him that the daylight had come back again.
Thereafter he had a vague knowledge of cold water, other rooms, other voices, more light, andmore air. At last he came to understand that he was in the midst of a large place which contained many street-persons who looked very solemn and wore no hats. Far away in front of him he seemed to discern a high desk, at which was seated an elderly street-person with grey hair, a shining bald head and impressive manners. Seated on either side of him were a number of women in gay and beautiful clothes. There was also a number of those odd beings whom he had come to recognize as police constables. And then quite suddenly he saw his father’s face.
The pale, noble and serene countenance was looking up at him. It was pervaded by that secret and beautiful smile which the boy had seen so many times upon it. With a little convulsive shudder of recognition the boy started to run to his father, but as he made to do so he awoke to the discovery that he was enclosed in a kind of cage.
“My father, my father!” the boy called out.
“Keep quiet,” said a police constable beside him in a rough whisper.
The elderly grey-haired man at the high desk lifted up his head in a startled manner, and looked about him.
“Remove that man from the court,” he said.
He thrust out a finger straight at the boy’s father. With his heart beating faint and small, the boy watched his father vanish out of his ken. He passed out through a side door in the custody of two immense police constables.
“My husband, Lord Pomeroy,” said a woman who sat next to the elderly man with the grey hair and the impressive manners, “my husband, Lord Pomeroy, is much displeased that my purse has been stolen, and he would be here personally to express his displeasure had he not been commanded to Windsor unexpectedly.”
These words, very loudly spoken, seemed to provoke a kind of joyful flutter in the breasts of allpresent. Even in the breast of the boy it provoked a flutter, yet not perhaps of a similar kind. It was the sound of the loud and harsh voice itself which to him was of sinister omen. As in an agony of remembrance he felt what this voice denoted, the blood ran as water in his veins.
“I am sure, Lady Pomeroy,” said the man with grey hair in a most silken manner, “in your misfortune you are entitled to every sympathy from this court. May it trust that there was nothing of great value in your purse.”
“Oh dear,dearno!” said the woman emotionally, “there was nothingwhateverin my purse, but I can’tlivewithout it.”
“Quite so, just so,” said the man with grey hair. “The court appreciates that perfectly. It feels you are entitled to every sympathy.”
“Pray what is the use of sympathy, my dear good man,” said the woman petulantly, “if it doesn’t restore my purse?”
“Precisely, dear Lady Pomeroy,” said the man with grey hair, “your concern for your purse is most natural.”
At this stage in the proceedings the man with grey hair gave a kind of benevolent signal to a sedulous-looking man, whose hair was very glossy, who sat immediately opposite to him, and who at this moment was engaged in sharpening a lead pencil.
“But, dear Lady Pomeroy,” said the man with grey hair, speaking very slowly and with his eye fixed on the man opposite, “sympathy is not necessarily barren, even if it is not fertile of visible result.”
Upon the utterance of these words, an extremely intellectual looking police constable, who was stationed in the centre of the crowded room, broke into a sudden and totally unexpected guffaw of laughter, which he turned into a cough with equal suddenness and great dexterity. His action incited the row of gaily dressed females to give vent toa little melodious cackle. These in turn seemed to incite the man who had been sharpening the lead pencil to write furiously. And all these portents having assured the man with grey hair that his memorable utterance had passed into history, he composed his features into a form of polite expostulation that words so trivial should have achieved that destiny.
Much passed between the woman with the loud voice and the man with the grey hair and the impressive manners. All, however, went unheeded by the boy; for during the whole of the time he stood clutching at the wooden rail by which he was surrounded, in order to save himself from measuring his length on the floor. To every other person in the court, however, the intercourse of the woman with the loud voice and the man with grey hair seemed to be fraught with a high significance.
Presently the constable who stood beside the boy gave him a sharp nudge.
“Now then,” he whispered truculently. “Pull yerself together. His washup is a-speaking to you.”
The boy was able to observe that the man with grey hair and impressive manners was wagging a short and fat forefinger in his direction. He also appeared to be speaking with a kind of stern deliberation, but the boy failed to appreciate a word that he said.
This homily, however, proceeded for some time; and in the course of it all present were much impressed. The man with grey hair and impressive manners concluded his discourse somewhat in this fashion: “Owing to the humane clemency which has been exhibited by Lady Pomeroy, a clemency, I may say, which is so familiar among all grades of society as to stand in need of no advertisement from this court”—(“Hear, hear,” in a suppressed but perfectly audible whisper from a voice at the back)—“there is no undue desire to press this charge. William Jordan, as this seems to be the first occasionon which you have appeared before this court, and as I am informed that no record of a previous conviction stands against your name, you will at the express desire of Lady Pomeroy”—(“Hear, hear,” from the voice at the back)—“be dealt with under the First Offenders Act. After entering into recognizances to come up for judgment if called upon, you will be discharged. It is deemed advisable, however, that you should have an interview with the police court missionary. In conclusion I hail this opportunity of tendering the most sincere thanks of the public to Lady Pomeroy”—(“Hear, hear,” from the back)—“for the public-spirited manner in which she has come forward to discharge a duty which must have been peculiarly distasteful to her.”
While the row of gaily dressed women rose wreathed in smiles, and formed a cordon round the man with grey hair and impressive manners, in order to shake hands with him, the boy was led into an adjoining room. In the next instant he was shuddering convulsively in the arms of his father.
A sad-looking man with cadaverous cheeks and sunken black eyes came up to them. With an odd kind of compunction he laid his hand on the boy’s sleeve.
“What ishedoing here?” he said.
The boy’s father enfolded the questioner in his secret and beautiful smile.
“You ask a question which admits of no answer,” he said.
At the sound of the voice of the boy’s father, the man with the cadaverous cheeks recoiled a step. His sallow face flushed a little. With thenaïvetéof a child he peered into the eyes of the boy’s father.
“I think, sir,” he said, with a curiously humble gesture, “I think you are perfectly right.”