That evening, when Messrs. Lock and Tridge and Clark, hearing something of what had transpired, trooped down to Fore Street to find Horace, they discovered him already engaged in bringing the stock and fixtures into line with his own ideas on such matters.
Very readily he told them the tale of his marriage, and, further, pointed out that the future might hold many occasions when his shipmates of the “Jane Gladys” might find it profitable to link their talents temporarily to the fortunes of the little second-hand shop.
But when Mr. Tridge remarked that the “Jane Gladys” was sailing early on the morrow, and thattherefore a little loan would be both acceptable and timely to her crew, Mr. Horace Dobb did not reply in words.
Instead, he stood erect and pointed over his shoulder, with a jerk of his thumb, at a notice which he had been at some pains to illuminate on a panel of wood, and which now hung conspicuously on the wall of the little shop.
Simultaneously, Messrs. Lock, Tridge, and Clark turned to regard the board. It bore the simple legend, “Strictly Business.”
Mr. Peter Lock, in the bowels of the “Jane Gladys,” had attired himself for outdoor promenade with a meticulous attention to detail which had spurred Mr. Joseph Tridge to scornful mention of beauty-doctors and mashers and tailors’ dummies. Mr. Lock, in no wise offended by these oblique compliments to his appearance, had finally lingered for a full half-minute before the cracked little mirror in fastidious self-examination, and then had gone ashore for the express purpose of keeping an appointment with a friend. Five minutes later he reappeared. He explained that a complication had arisen, for his friend had brought a friend with her to the trysting-place, so that another gentleman was now indispensable to secure balance to the party. As the result of eloquent appeals and lavish promises, Mr. Tridge was reluctantly impressed into the role of temporary friend to the friend’s friend.
Matters thus adjusted, Messrs. Tridge and Lock departed, leaving the fo’c’sle of the “Jane Gladys” empty but for the brooding figure of the stout and aged Mr. Samuel Clark.
For a long while Mr. Clark sat on the edge of his bunk, wrapped in doleful reverie, and motionless save when, from time to time, a deep sigh agitated his vast shoulders. At last, however, a well-remembered whistlesounded from the quay, and instantly roused Mr. Clark from his gloomy meditations.
“’Orace!” he exclaimed, sitting erect, and his eyes began to gleam with a dawning hopefulness.
A few minutes later Mr. Horace Dobb descended into that fo’c’sle wherein aforetime he had been so prominent a dweller, though now it needed strong imagination to believe that, less than three weeks ago, he had served the “Jane Gladys” in such a menial capacity as cook. For Mr. Dobb was wearing a horseshoe pin and a massive watch-chain, and a soft hat of adventurous aspect. He carried a bloated umbrella which had somehow acquired a quality of being a mace-like symbol of authority. And, also, Mr. Dobb was smoking a cigar.
In short, he presented a visible proof that marriage need not invariably be a failure, provided that one selects as bride a manageable widow with a snug little business of her own.
“Doing the Cinderella hact all by yourself, are you?” observed Mr. Dobb. “It couldn’t be better. I’ve brought some one on purpose to see you.”
“I could trot across to the ‘Jolly Sailors’ and get—” began Mr. Clark. “At least,” he amended, ingenuously, “if I ’ad any money I could.”
“Not necessary,” stated Mr. Dobb. “’E’s a teetotaller.”
“A teetotaller?” echoed Mr. Clark, suspiciously. “’Ere, what’s the game—bringing a teetotaller to seeme? ’Strewth, ’Orace!” he cried, in sudden alarm. “You ain’t going to tell me that being well-off ’as gone to your ’ead and given you silly ideas, are you? You ain’t going to tell me that you’ve turned teetotaller, too, and the pair of you ’ave come down to try andconvert me? I won’t ’ave it!” he declared, wrathfully. “I ain’t going to ’ave no one trying to meddle about with my constitootion, never mind ’ow old a friend ’e is!”
“And don’tyoustart thinking evil ofme!” returned Mr. Dobb, with spirit. “I won’t ’ave it, neither!”
“Well,” protested Mr. Clark, significantly, “youa-going about with teetotallers!”
“Well, p’r’aps it do look fishy,” conceded Mr. Dobb. “But you oughter know me better than that! You know me motter, Sam, don’t you? ‘Strictly Business!’ Well, my friendship with ’im is strictly business. You don’t suppose I could ever ’ave a friendly friendship with a teetotaller, do you?”
“I should ’ope not, indeed!” answered Mr. Clark, severely.
“I met ’im in the way of business, and I’ve got to know ’im pretty well,” continued Mr. Dobb. “And now there’s something he wants done, and I thought of you for the job at once.”
“Much obliged to you,” said Mr. Clark, stiffly, “but I ain’t sure that I wants to do jobs for teetotallers.”
“Don’t you be a silly old idjit, Sam,” tolerantly recommended Mr. Dobb. “You don’t want to go cutting off your nose to spite your face—particularly with the sort of faceyou’vegot! I was only speaking figgerative,” he hastened to add, at Mr. Clark’s indignant stare. “Ain’t the old ‘Jane Gladys’ to be sold soon, and won’t you be out of a job then?”
“I was thinking about that when you come down ’ere,” admitted Mr. Clark, sorrowfully.
“Very well, then,” argued Mr. Dobb, “you want to do the best you can for yourself. You take on this ’ere job I’ve mentioned, and you’ll ’ave a nice easylife ashore for the next week or two, and all the time you can be looking round for a proper job. And you’re far more likely to find one by being on the spot than by rushing round frantic after you’re paid off, ain’t you?”
“Of course I am,” agreed Mr. Clark. “And I know the skipper’ll let me go any time I want to. ’E said so, only the night before last, when me and Peter and Joe give ’im a parting present for three-and-nine.”
“There you are!” cried Mr. Dobb. “You take on this job with the chap I’ve brought—Poskett, ’is name is. And while you’re doing it, me and you will keep our eyes skinned to find you a permanent job in the town.”
“I take it as very kind of you, ’Orace,” said Mr. Clark.
“Then you takes it wrong,” returned Mr. Dobb. “I’m doing it for business—strictly for business. You and me and them others ’ave worked a few good plans in the past, and I can see that my little second-’and shop in Fore Street gives us a chance to work a lot more, if we was all close together. I mean to get you and Peter Lock and Joe Tridge all settled ’ere near me in Shore’aven.Thenwe’ll show ’em!” he prophesied, with satisfaction.
“All four of us ’atching up ideas together again? Oh, blessed wision! Oh, ’appy prospect!” murmured Mr. Clark, moved to rhapsody. “Bring on your teetotallers!” he invited. “With that before me, I’m ready for anything!”
“I’ll call ’im, and ’e’ll tell you all about it,” said Mr. Dobb, and, going on deck, he soon returned to the fo’c’sle in convoy of a short, pallid gentleman, whose very side-whiskers seemed trimmed into semblance of stern rectitude.
Horace introduced Mr. Poskett to Mr. Clark and the trio sat down at the table. After Mr. Poskett had refused the offer of a cup of cold water, considerately suggested by Mr. Clark, the object of the visit was at once approached.
“It’s like this, Mr. Clark,” stated the visitor, “children is very difficult things to manage properly these days, I find.”
“Thrash ’em!” advised Mr. Clark, assuming an air of efficiency in all matters. “And not only thrash ’em, but keep on thrashing ’em! That’s the only way to manage children, it seems to me, if you wants a quiet life.”
“Yes, but what about it when the child is a girl of twenty?” demurred Mr. Poskett.
“Stop ’er pocket-money!” promptly advised Mr. Clark.
“Yes; but supposing she earns her own pocket-money?” propounded Mr. Poskett.
Mr. Clark, emitting a baffled grunt, passed to silent examination of the problem. Mr. Horace Dobb, settling himself deep in his seat, tilted back his head and puffed at his cigar, as one who postponed intervention till the affair was more clearly established.
“You—you might lock up ’er bonnets,” hazarded Mr. Clark at last, but with no great confidence.
“But she ’as to go to her employment behind the counter at Messrs Wicklett & Sharp’s shop in the High Street,” objected Mr. Poskett. “She comes ’ome for dinner, and goes back again to the shop in the afternoon.”
There was another pause, and then Mr. Clark regretfully admitted that it seemed to him something was wrong somewhere, but he could not quite tell where itwas. He respectfully intimated that he might understand better were Mr. Poskett to be more explicit in information.
“My niece,” said Mr. Poskett, complying. “She’s been and got herself engaged!”
“Tut-tut!” murmured Mr. Clark, politely shocked.
“She has! Without my permission! She never even asked me!” complained Mr. Poskett. “Not that I should have given it, mark you, if she had asked! What right has she to go and get herself engaged when she is needed at home?”
“Ah, what right, indeed?” asked Mr. Clark, with indignation.
“Where’s ’er gratitude to me and ’er loving aunt, who have brought ’er up since she was eleven?” demanded Mr. Poskett. “Is it not ’er duty to tarry with us while we ’ave need of ’er? We cannot spare ’er, for she is too useful. I grant that she ’as done ’er fair share of work in the past, but that ain’t any reason why she should seek to avoid it in the future, is it?”
“Certainly not!” stated Mr. Clark.
“She’s got a earthly ’ome where she’s well looked after and kept up to the mark,” declared Mr. Poskett, his voice taking a high-pitched monotone. “Do we not know ’oo it is that lays in wait to find work for idle ’ands? Work and plenty of it is the only right way to bring up a young female. Idleness of body leads to idleness of thought, my friends, and—”
Mr. Dobb emitted a cough with a long, droning tail to it, and this served its purpose in restoring Mr. Poskett to more natural speech.
“Anyway,” he said, “when Nancy ain’t at the shop, we does our best to keep ’er time properly hemployed for ’er. As I say, it’s the only right way to bring youngfemales up, and Nancy will admit one day, when me and my wife ’ave passed away to our reward, that she was very well brought up indeed! Tidy up the ’ouse, and off to the shop; dinner, wash-up, back to the shop again; ’ome again, bit more tidying up, and then bed,” he sketched. “Now, ain’t that a model life for a young female? What more can a right-minded girl want?”
“Ah, what, indeed?” sighed Mr. Clark.
“But is she content?” asked Mr. Poskett, sadly. “Oh, dear, no! She knows that all flesh is grass, and yet she talks about wanting amusements and recreation! And her nearly twenty! And now and then she gets quite out of control, and indulges in all manner of worldly vanities. Only last week she went to a whist-drive! When she come back, I wrestled with the evil spirit within ’er for a full hour, trying to get ’er to say she repented.”
“And did she?” queried Mr. Clark.
“She did not, alas! She was that ’ardened that she only said the enjoyment was worth a bit of suffering for afterwards! And now she’s gone and got ’erself engaged!”
“’Oo to?” asked Mr. Clark.
“That’s just it,” complained Mr. Poskett. “That’s what we wants to know! We don’t know ’oo ’e is, and she won’t tell us; and she’s that deceitful we can’t find out! I spent ’alf an hour, only yesterday, questioning and ex’orting ’er, and she had not even the grace to cry! If it wasn’t for all the money we’ve spent in bringing ’er up, and for ’er being so useful in the ’ome, I’d ’ave nothing more to do with ’er! I believe she would like things to come to such a sorry pass, too!”
“And I’d not blame ’er—” began Mr. Clark,absently. “I mean,” he began again, more carefully, “and I shouldn’t blame you, neither.”
“I must do my duty,” said Mr. Poskett, unctuously. “’Er place is with me and ’er aunt, and I must keep ’er there!”
“And you ain’t got the least idea ’oo the young fellow is?” asked Mr. Clark.
“Not the least! She won’t bring ’im to the ’ome. She knows too much for that, because I’d soon send ’im about ’is business, ’ooever ’e is! She won’t even tell us ’is name! All she says is that he don’t hold with the same views as us about anything, and that there’d only be trouble if we met. And so there would! And she says she prefers things to go on as they are for a little longer, till they’re quite sure they really wants to marry each other. She says ’is very way of earning a living would ’orrify me, so don’t that just show you? Can you wonder I’m ’eart-broken?”
“If I was you,” said Mr. Clark, resolutely, “I wouldn’t rest till I’d found out ’oo ’e is! I wouldn’t be beat by a gal!”
“Ah, now you’re coming to it, Sam!” struck in Mr. Dobb. “That’s something of the idea I’ve talked over with Poskett ’ere. What ’e wants is a kind of watchdog to that niece of ’is; some one ’oo’ll follow ’er everywhere, and find out ’oo it is that’s making up to ’er. Then Poskett will know ’ow to act. But, you see, ’im being a big man in the prayers-and-penitence line round ’ere, it ’ud look so bad for ’im to go loafing round the streets all day playing private detective. And ’is missis is too delikit, she says.”
“As a local preacher,” said Mr. Poskett, “I ’ave many hengagements, and between them and business my time is fully occupied.”
“In short,” remarked Mr. Dobb, “’e’s ready to pay you to follow ’is niece about everywhere in ’er spare time, so as you can find out ’oo’s the young man. And when you ’ave found out—which will take you some days, I expect, the pair of ’em being very artful to all accounts you must go straight to Poskett and tell ’im. That’s all ’e wants you to do, and ’e’ll pay you well for it. But you’ll ’ave to give every minute of your time to it, otherwise ’e wouldn’t go to the trouble and expense of engaging some one special for the job—would you, Poskett?”
“That is so,” agreed Mr. Poskett. “Well, what do you say, Mr. Clark? Will you help to restore a girl to the proper henjoyment of ’er ’ome life?”
“When you puts it like that,” said Mr. Clark, slowly, “it don’t sound so— I must say, though, it ain’t exactly the sort of job—”
He broke off to shake his head in a troubled, dissatisfied way. In so doing, he caught a glimpse of Mr. Dobb’s face, and was arrested by the slight but emphatic nod which Mr. Dobb accorded him.
“All right!” said Mr. Clark, at once obeying the habit of years and yielding initiative to the ex-cook. “I’ll do it!”
Things progressed swiftly after that decision, and outstanding details were settled all the sooner because Mr. Dobb had somehow taken over control of the negotiations. Ten minutes later the trio had left the “Jane Gladys” and Mr. Dobb was returning to his emporium, while Mr. Clark was taken by Mr. Poskett to his abode, there to be introduced to wife and niece, so that general acquaintanceship with the family might prove a weapon in Mr. Clark’s hand, if necessary.
Reluctance was plainly discernible in Mr. Clark’sdemeanour as he entered Mr. Poskett’s domicile, and, taken into the front room, he glanced about him with something of guilt. Relief at discovering the apartment to be void of feminine presence was evidenced by an unconscious exclamation of pious gratitude.
“Ah, ’ere she comes!” announced Mr. Poskett.
“Wait a bit!” begged Mr. Clark. “I been thinking—”
He clutched at his host’s arm in some trepidation as the door opened and an elderly female of unaffectionate aspect entered.
“This,” said Mr. Poskett, “is my wife,” and explained the reason of Mr. Clark’s presence to that lady, while the seaman himself, mopping his forehead with his handkerchief, smiled unconvincingly, and vaguely remarked that girls would be girls, and that there was no need to be too worried about it.
Before Mrs. Poskett could reply to these remarks, the latch of the front door clicked.
“Ah, ’ere’s Nancy at last,” observed Mr. Poskett.
“And—and that reminds me, I—I forgot something!” stammered Mr. Clark. “Appointment I made a week ago! I must be going—now—at once!”
“You sit down!” firmly ordered Mr. Poskett. “You ’ave set your ’and to the plough, and you must not look back. Besides, ’ow could you have made an appointment a week ago? You were at sea then, weren’t you?”
“Why, I wrote a letter, and—and—”
“But you could not post it at sea.”
“I put it in a bottle and threw it overboard,” gulped Mr. Clark, edging nearer the door. “See you some other time. I—”
He ceased abruptly at sight of the girl who hadentered the room and was now standing by the door, a little surprised at this unusual incidence of a visitor.
“This is Mr. Samuel Clark, Nancy,” said Mr. Poskett, seizing the opportunity. “And ’e’s an old friend of Mr. Dobb’s, and one ’oo ’as a deep knowledge of the world and its pitfalls—”
“’Ere, steady!” murmured Mr. Clark.
“And ’oo, I feel sure,” continued Mr. Poskett, with a leathery smile at the other man, “will give you good counsel and guidance if ever the need for such should arise.”
Miss Nancy Poskett, clearly suspecting the nature of this tribute, bowed distantly to Mr. Clark, and sat down in a corner.
“’Ave you come straight ’ome from Wicklett & Sharp’s, Nancy!” asked Mrs. Poskett, mistrustfully.
“I came back by way of East Street, aunt.”
“Meet anyone you know?” inquired Mrs. Poskett.
“One or two people,” replied the girl, carelessly.
“And ’oo were they, pray?” demanded Mrs. Poskett, at once.
“Oh, no one you know, aunt,” replied Nancy, and began to fidget with her brooch.
“Why, you’re wearing a ring!” shrilled her aunt at that, and the girl quickly concealed her hand. “A new ring!” went on the elder lady in awesome tones. “And on your engagement finger!”
“Yes,” said Nancy, “that was the finger it was meant for.”
There was a scandalized little wait. Mr. and Mrs. Poskett shook their heads, muttering inchoately. Mr. Clark gazed upon the mutinous damsel with but thinly veiled admiration for her courage. Just as Mr. Poskett cleared his throat and drew a deep, long breath, therebyintimating that he had garnered a few fitting phrases for immediate use, the girl rose and strolled to the door.
“I’m just going upstairs to put on my other hat and my coat,” she mentioned, casually.
“You—you’re not going out again, Nancy?” quavered Mrs. Poskett, aghast. “Why, it’s a quarter to eight!”
“I want to run out and post a letter, aunt.”
“Dressing up to go and post a letter!” groaned Mrs. Poskett, sepulchrally.
“Mr. Clark will drop it in the post for you on his way back,” said Mr. Poskett.
“Thanks, but it’s rather special,” returned the girl; and passing out of the room, she closed the door quietly after her.
“There you are!” breathed Mrs. Poskett. “There’s a brazen hussy to deal with! She’s going out to meethim!”
“You follow ’er the moment she leaves,” Mr. Poskett directed Mr. Clark. “And don’t let ’er out of your sight.”
Miss Nancy, returning soon after, in smart outdoor toilet, shook Mr. Clark’s hand and bade him a quite disinterested farewell. A few moments later the front door closed behind her with a definite snap, and, a few moments later still, Mr. Clark was in the street, intent on following her.
She was already some score of yards away, but none the less an encouraging remark offered by her uncle from the doorstep to Mr. Clark on the pavement caught her ear. She glanced back, and then went on her way at slightly accelerated speed.
Thrice did the girl turn unexpected corners, andthrice did the portly Mr. Clark have to break into a clumsy trot before he brought her in view again. And then she continued unremittingly to the very end of a particularly long thoroughfare, and faithfully did the panting Mr. Clark tag along in her wake on the opposite side of the road.
Presently, Nancy came to a corner at the end of the thoroughfare, and here she stopped, gazing expectantly this way and that. Mr. Clark with a nimbleness surprising in one of his build, skipped into the doorway of a shop. The girl, suddenly resuming her course, passed swiftly round the corner out of sight. With a feeling that the climax of the chase was at hand, Mr. Clark darted from his lair and ambled after her. Breathlessly he rounded the corner, and here he narrowly averted collision with Miss Poskett, who was standing quite still beneath a street lamp.
“Er—er—good evening, miss!” stammered Mr. Clark. “I—Ithoughtit might be you! ’Ow—’ow do you do?”
“You’ve been following me!” she scornfully charged him.
“Oh, no!” he declared. “Just a—a cohincidence! I—I simply ’appened to be coming this way, and—and—”
“Fancy! And are you going along this road here on the right, too?”
“I am, miss.”
“Well, I’mnot!”
“Then—then I’ll wish you good evening again,” he said, and wandered forlornly away.
Nancy sped off again. Mr. Clark, swinging round, once more followed the trail, but with greater caution.
The girl, turning and twisting among the huddled streets of the old seaport town, gave her exhausted pursuer an engrossed half-hour.
Then, again, she halted—exactly opposite her own dwelling. And Mr. Clark, tottering to a full-stop, fancied he heard a low, gleeful laugh between the ensuing opening and shutting of the Posketts’ front door.
It was a stiff and weary-eyed Mr. Clark who called to see Mr. Horace Dobb at his shop next morning. Mr. Dobb, when furnished with the narrative of the previous night’s events, merely smiled unsympathetically.
“Never mind!” he said. “It’ll all come right in the end. You just keep on, to show you’re in earnest. ’Ave you arranged with Captain Dutt to leave the ‘Jane Gladys’ to-day? Good! And got all the money owing to you? Better! Now you must go and sit and rest yourself in the ‘Green Dragon,’ opposite Wicklett & Sharp’s in the ’Igh Street. You’ll be able to see when she comes out for dinner then, and keep an eye on ’er again.”
Faithfully did Mr. Clark obey these instructions. Not only did he shadow Miss Poskett home in her dinner-hour, but he hung about the road till she emerged again, and then watched her back to her place of employment. But in the interval he was far from happy, and his only solace was to be found in the discovery that more than one householder spoke respectfully to him under the impression that he was so thrilling a thing as a detective in the local police force.
That same evening found him in grim ambush outside Messrs. Wicklett & Sharp’s place of business, andthere he lurked till the blinds of the shop were lowered, and at last Miss Poskett came tripping out. After gazing round far more carefully than the sentinel realized, Nancy hurried away.
Sedulously did Mr. Clark follow her, rejoicing that he had had the foresight to don an easier pair of shoes this evening. But to-night the course was short. A couple of hundred yards were covered, and then the girl flitted into a big, official-looking edifice.
“The Registry Office!” ejaculated Mr. Clark. “No, it ain’t; it’s the Free Library!”
He passed into the interior of the building and proceeded to efface himself behind a newspaper-stand in a draughty, ill-lit corner.
Miss Poskett, seating herself at the table nearest the fire, selected a magazine. This, Mr. Clark felt sure, was but a ruse, for every time that the swing-door opened the girl raised her head expectantly, and then glanced up at the big clock before returning her attention to the magazine.
Half an hour passed—an hour. Mr. Clark, prevented from the solace of tobacco by imperative notices, found the time dragging most tediously. His legs had begun to ache with the strain of standing and he felt chilled, and savage; but he did not dare to risk discovery by moving to more comfortable quarters. Another thirty minutes crept by, and a new and exquisite agony had come to Mr. Clark, for he was thinking now of the many snug inns with which the town abounded, and picturing the enjoyment of Messrs. Tridge and Lock in some such paradise at that moment.
Another forty minutes lagged painfully past. The janitor of the library began a sonorous locking-up inadjacent apartments, and still Miss Poskett remained to divide her attention between the swing-door, the clock, and the magazine.
“Closing time, please!” pronounced the janitor, entering.
Miss Poskett, springing readily to her feet, quitted the edifice. Mr. Clark, one vast sensation of numb passion, followed more slowly after her.
Miss Poskett, looking neither to the right nor the left, walked briskly back to her abode; and again Mr. Clark fancied that he heard a gurgle of malicious satisfaction as the girl entered the Posketts’ household and closed the door after her.
So furious was Mr. Clark that late as was the hour, he stamped round to Fore Street and knocked at the door of Mr. Dobb’s little shop. The house was in darkness, but after Mr. Clark’s third thunderous assault on the panels, an upper window opened and the head of Mr. Dobb, crowned with so obsolete a thing as a nightcap, protruded in inquiry.
“Finished, me!” roared Mr. Clark, to this apparition.
“Don’t you be a silly old stoopid!” counselled Mr. Dobb. “You stick to your job like a man!”
“But it ain’t a man’s job!” declared Mr. Clark. “Sneaking about, watching gals, at my time of life! I’ll trouble you to ’and in my resignation for me to Mr. Poskett, because some’ow I don’t think it ’ud be safe for me to see ’im—safe for ’im, I mean!”
“You wait a bit,” directed Mr. Dobb. “I’ll come down to you.”
And this he did, unbolting the shop door and revealing himself in a chaste dressing-gown of crimson flannel. Dragging the fretful Mr. Clark into the back premises, he hospitably set out glasses and a bottle, and Mr.Clark’s snarls of annoyance died away into murmurs of faint protest.
“Look ’ere,” said Horace, seriously, “you take it from me that you’re doing very well. Better than you think. It don’t matter whether you catches ’er with the chap or not; the main point is that he knows by now that you’re in earnest.”
“But ’ow does ’e know?” queried Mr. Clark.
“She’s told ’im! She’s kept away from ’im on purpose to diddle you, but she’s let ’im know by a note what’s ’appened last night, and you can bet she’ll let ’im know what ’appened to-night.”
“’Ow doyouknow?”
“Because,” was Mr. Dobb’s astonishing answer, “because I know ’oo the fellow is! I not only know ’im, but I know ’im well enough to be very friendly with ’im, and it was ’im what told me she’s sent ’im word.”
“But if you knows ’oo ’e is, why don’t you tell old Poskett and settle the affair?” asked Mr. Clark, very naturally.
“Because that ain’t in the programme,” replied Mr. Dobb. “‘Strictly business!’” he quoted, enigmatically. “Surely you ain’t forgot that?”
“Well, why don’t you tellme’oo ’e is, and let me tell old Poskett?”
“There is such a thing as digging up pertaters before they’re ready to be dug,” remarked Mr. Dobb, mysteriously.
“Well, anyway, ’ow did you find out ’oo the chap was?” asked Mr. Clark, with something akin to professional jealousy.
“Two or three days back,” related Mr. Dobb, “I ’ad a very ’andsome-looking overmantel mirror for sale ’ere. It was in the window, and it caught Miss Poskett’seye. And she stepped in and admired it, and asked the price, and you could see she thought it was a bargain. But she went out again, trying to be off’and.”
“Well, is it a riddle, or are you supposed to be telling me something?” asked Mr. Clark, as his friend made a long pause.
“I thought you’d guess the rest, easy. First thing next morning in comes a certain young gent, and said ’e’d ’eard I’d got a overmantel for sale, and ’e bought it straight off, almost without looking at it. Ah, if only there was more lovers in the world, it ’ud be a happier place altogether!” stated Mr. Dobb. “For chaps in my line of business, anyway!”
“Oh, well, I shall be glad when it’s all over and done with, that I do assure you!” said Mr. Clark. “I reckon I owe old Poskett something for getting me to take on a job like this, and a grudge is a debt of honour to me, don’t forget!”
“I don’t mind what you do to ’im after it’s all over,” said Mr. Dobb. “In fact, I reckon to quarrel with ’im myself before very long. It won’t matter a bit, because I ’ave pumped ’im dry in the way of business already.”
“Well, I wish you’d tell me—” began Mr. Clark, wistfully.
“You wait! You see, Sam, you’re all right, but you ain’t clever; and if I was to tell you ’oo the chap is and what I’ve ’atched out, you’d try to be clever and ’elp me, and that ’ud spoil everything.”
And this was an attitude from which Mr. Dobb was not to be wooed by all the blandishments of Mr. Clark, so at last the stout sailorman, relinquished further effort, repaired to the modest lodging he had taken for himself in the town, and there retired to bed.
So soundly did he sleep as the result of the strain of detective work that it was already nearly noon when he was awakened next morning by the advent of a visitor in the form of Mr. Dobb.
“I was quite right,” announced Horace. “That gal’s sent another note to ’er young man about the way she tricked you last night. Very tickled by it, ’e was but, at the same time, ’e sees what a old nuisance you’re going to be to ’em when they wants to meet.”
“You’ve seen ’im?” asked Mr. Clark.
“I ’ave! I’ve been ’aving a long, confidential chat with ’im. But I ain’t come to talk about that now. I ’appen to know of a job what might suit you—a job as ferryman down at the ’arbour.”
“Just the one job in the world I’d really like!” cried Mr. Clark, enthusiastically. “Rowing across the river all day from a pub. on one side to a pub. on the other!”
“The pub. on this side is the ‘Flag and Pennant,’” said Horace. “The landlord there runs the ferry, and ’is ferryman is leaving to-morrow.”
“I’ll go up and ask for the job.”
“That ain’t the way to set about it—not in this case. You want to use the ’ouse for a few hours first, and then lead up to the job tactful-like. Tell the landlord about your present job, and ’ow you don’t like it, and so on, and come to the ferry gradual.”
Mr. Clark, bowing to the superior wisdom of Horace, spent the whole of the afternoon, after he had watched Miss Poskett from her work to her home and back again, in the bar-parlour of the “Flag and Pennant” and it was not till tea-time that he decided that he had acquired sufficient standing as a patron of the house to advance a little further in the matter of the ferry.
“There’s good jobs and bad jobs, ain’t there, sir?” he observed, rather irrelevantly, to the dapper young landlord. “I wish I could change my job. I got a rotten job at present.”
“Oh!” said the landlord, without much interest. “What’s the job?”.
“Watching a young gal—a artful, tricky young gal.”
“Watching her? Do you mean you are married to her?”
“’Eaven forbid! I’m watching ’er at ’er relations’ wish to find out ’oo she’s carrying-on with unbeknown to them.”
“I shouldn’t have thought it was a very pleasant job for a man like you,” observed the landlord, disdainfully.
“It ain’t! Far from it! Little did I think, when Poskett asked me to keep a eye on ’is niece—”
“Miss Poskett, eh?” exclaimed the landlord, with sudden interest. “And so you are the chap who’s trying to find out who’s dangling after Miss Poskett, are you? Why, it’s—”
He checked himself sharply. For a few moments he stood tapping his fingers on the counter and eyeing Mr. Clark.
“What’s Poskett going to do when he finds out?” he asked.
“Send ’im about ’is business pretty sharp!”
“Just the thing!” exclaimed the landlord.
“Beg pardon, sir?”
“Look here,” went on the other, in some excitement, “I don’t mind admitting to you that I’ve got more than half a mind to have a try after Miss Poskett myself. I wondered why she wouldn’t have anythingto say to me until, a few days ago, I happened to see her with the chap she fancies. If Poskett got rid of him—”
“Hexactly, sir!” concurred Mr. Clark. “That ’ud be your chance, wouldn’t it?”
“Itwould!”
“Then tell me ’oo ’e is, and—”
“No; if Miss Poskett got to hear I was mixed up in it— But I’ll tell you what Iwilldo! Here, come to the window! See that cottage across the harbour—the one with the figurehead in the garden? Well, he lodges there. His name is Jones—William Jones. Here, come back!” cried the landlord, forcefully detaining Mr. Clark. “Don’t you understand that you’ve got to catch ’em together first? Now, he hasn’t been out lately, because he hasn’t been very well. But if you were to watch that cottage—”
“I’d catch ’im whenever ’e left, and if I followed ’im—”
“That’s it! He’s sure to be meeting her sooner or later. You’ll easily recognize him—he’s got a big black moustache, and he’s a tall, thin chap.”
“But suppose ’e left the ’ouse and didn’t cross the ’arbour, and I was stuck onthisside?” artfully suggested Mr. Clark.
“I have it!” cried the landlord of the “Flag and Pennant.” “Blessed if I don’t do you a good turn, since you’re going to do me one! You can take over my ferry-boat. Then you can row backwards and forwards all day, watching the place unsuspected. And if you see him leave and not cross the harbour, you can row over as quickly as you can and follow him. And if he does cross, why, he’s bound to come over in your ferry, and then you can always jump out afterhim and track him till he meets her, and then you can fetch old Poskett along to see ’em!”
“It certainly sounds a proper plan,” approved Mr. Clark. “But after I’ve fetched Poskett—do I lose the ferry job then?”
“No,” said the landlord, handsomely. “I’ll let you keep it on, on the usual terms. After all, some one’s got to do it, and it may as well be you, especially since you’ll have helped me a bit.”
Overjoyed at this facile arrangement, Mr. Clark celebrated his new engagement so thoroughly that he quite omitted to provide unwelcome escort for Miss Poskett that evening. Next morning he entered upon his new duties, and rowed back and forth across the estuary with ever a vigilant eye lifting towards the cottage with the figurehead in its garden.
But no one answering to the description of William Jones did he discern all day, and when at last business was over at a late hour, he went along to see Mr. Horace Dobb and tell him all that there was to be told.
“Ah, now you’re all right!” said Mr. Dobb, patronizingly. “So mind you do the job satisfactory, and keep your eyes well open.”
“I shall give Poskett notice at the end of the week,” said Mr. Clark. “Now I’m hindependent of ’im, I want to get shut of ’is nasty little job as soon as possible.”
“But you mustn’t,” pointed out Horace. “Far as I can see, the main reason why Lupcott, the landlord of the ‘Flag and Pennant,’ ’as given you the job of ferryman is that so you can get rid of this ’ere rival for ’im.”
“I forgot that,” admitted Mr. Clark. “Never mind,I’ll soon nab the pair of ’em now, and then I can turn over a new leaf.”
But, indeed, Mr. Clark had not succeeded in catching even a glimpse of Mr. William Jones by the next day, nor the next, nor the next after that. Confessing his failure rather apprehensively to his patron, Mr. Lupcott, he was relieved when that gentleman, bidding him cheer up, cited the precedent of Bruce’s spider.
A few more days passed. Mr. Clark, now well established in his new sphere of activity, was winning custom and popularity by the nice distinction of his manners and the careful choice of his vocabulary, and was almost forgetting the very existence of the secretive Mr. Jones, when one morning the affair of Miss Poskett’s love passage suddenly loomed large again before him.
It so chanced that Mr. Clark had just started from the further side of the river, when loud shouts for his immediate presence claimed his attention.
“Bit of a ’urry, seemingly,” commented Mr. Clark, and obligingly began to row back.
There were two male figures awaiting him. One of them was brandishing his arms and bellowing; the other, taking matters more calmly, leaned in repose against a post, smiling at his companion’s vehemence. The excitable gentleman was Mr. Poskett, the other was Mr. Horace Dobb.
“A nice thing! A nice thing!” raved Mr. Poskett, as the nose of the ferry-boat grounded and Mr. Clark stepped ashore. “You’re a fraud! A impostor! A broken reed! A foolish virgin!”
The bewildered Mr. Clark, gazing from this figure of wrath to the placid mien of Mr. Dobb, received a slow, significant wink from that gentleman.
“I’ve been betrayed!” shrilly declaimed Mr. Poskett. “I’ve been wounded in my tenderest feelings! While you’ve been pretendin’ to be so watchful and alert, my niece ’as slipped away and got married! She’s just sent me a telegram, telling me about it, and ’ow she was starting off on ’er ’oneymoon!”
“’As she—’as she married ’im, after all?” queried Mr. Clark, in a surprised tone that was not entirely devoid of approval.
“She ’as! She’s been meetin’ ’im regular the last few days, it seems, and—”
“Married that ’ere Jones, and I never so much as set eyes on ’im!” marvelled Mr. Clark. “There’s artfulness!”
Mr. Poskett, gasping for words, shook his head helplessly.
“It was Mr. Lupcott, of the ‘Flag and Pennant,’ she married, Sam,” said Mr. Dobb, softly.
“Ah, ’e told me this morning that ’e was going away for a few days, and ’e clapped me on the shoulder and laughed, and I wondered why!” cried Mr. Clark. “But—but that ’ere Jones—”
“There never was any Jones, Sam,” explained Mr. Dobb, in gentle accents. “Lupcott invented ’im simply to keep you fixed in one spot, so ’e could go on meeting Miss Poskett. Matter of fact, I invented ’im for Lupcott! It was Lupcott ’oo was after ’er all along, as I knew.”
“But—but—”
Mr. Dobb nodded significantly towards Mr. Poskett.
“Look ’ere!” readily cried Mr. Clark, advancing on that gentleman threateningly. “This ’ere slipway is private property, and I’m in charge of it. And I don’twant you ’anging about ’ere listening to gentlemen’s conversation! I don’t like the looks of you, me man. I never did, and I never shall, so clear out!”
“’Ear, ’ear!” murmured Horace, shamelessly.
“If you’ve got anything to say to me,” warned Mr. Clark, “I advise you not to say it! Get! See? Get!”
Mr. Poskett, noting the terrible earnestness of Mr. Clark’s visage, glanced wildly about him, and discovered how remote the slipway was from civilization. Yielding suddenly to panic, he turned and trotted away, followed by the heartless laughter of Mr. Dobb and certain blood-curdling threats from Mr. Clark.
“That’s settled ’im!” stated Mr. Dobb. “’E ain’t the sort to trouble you again.”
“And a good job too!” declared Mr. Clark. “It’s the first really comfortable minute I’ve spent since first I took ’is little job on.”
“Never mind, Sam, it served its purpose,” said Mr. Dobb. “Soon as ever ’e spoke to me about ’is niece, and as soon as ever I knew that Lupcott was in it, I began to look round for a chance. And when I learned Lupcott’s ferryman was leaving ’im, I saw the chance sticking out as plain as plain. Luckily I was friendly with all parties. It was me what put Lupcott up to the plan of giving you the ferry to look after to keep you from interfering; it was me what suggested you to Poskett for the job of watching ’is niece; and it was me, Sam, what advised Lupcott not to let you know ’ow things really stood, in case you might want to be too ’elpful. And I know what you are when you tries to be clever.”
“Well, I’m sure I’m very much obliged to you,” murmured Mr. Clark.
“Put two and two neatly together, ’ave you, and found out ’oo the answer is?” bantered Mr. Dobb. “Ain’t I a wonder? All that ’ead work done by me, and you only ’ad to stand by and wait—and you didn’t even know you was standing by and waiting. So now, if you likes, you can take me into the ‘Flag and Pennant’ and stand me something to drink success to your new career.”
“Wait a bit,” said Mr. Clark, counting his available wealth. “Get in the boat, and let me take you across the river and back again. The fare’ll be tuppence. And then we can both ’ave a drink!”
Superlative virtues of construction and design, never before suspected, were boldly claimed for the “Jane Gladys” in the auctioneer’s announcement which advertised her imminent sale. So respect-compelling was the list of good qualities now stated to be embodied in the unlovely hulk of that ancient vessel that even the two members of her crew who lingered on in residence as caretakers felt that their social standing was enhanced by association with such a superior craft. In order to demonstrate their new-found dignity, they left unperformed as much menial work as possible, preferring to sun themselves on deck in more fitting and gentlemanly leisure.
Thus it was that Mr. Joseph Tridge was idly leaning against the side one morning, surveying the horizon with a certain bored restfulness, and Mr. Peter Lock was reclining on deck in triple enjoyment of pipe and newspaper and slippered ease, when a voice hailed the “Jane Gladys” from a small boat further out in the river.
In the boat was the venerable Mr. Samuel Clark, formerly the doyen of the “Jane Gladys’” crew, and now, by the grace of Fate and the artifice of man, the motive-power of the little ferry which plied across Shorehaven Harbour at its mouth.
“Why, ’ullo, Sam!” greeted Mr. Tridge, waking to extreme cordiality. “Just the chap I was ’oping to see! Tie up and come aboard!”
“Not me!” replied Mr. Clark, very definitely.
“Not just for a chat?” wheedled Mr. Tridge. “It’s a bit dull for us ’ere, you know, Sam.”
“I ain’t going to risk it,” replied Mr. Clark. “I only give you a friendly shout as I was passing, like. You ain’t going to cut my ’air again to-day, Joe, so you might just as well understand that at once. You cut it yesterday, and you cut it last Thursday, and you cut it last Toosday. I don’t mean to be unfriendly or un’elpful, Joe, but you’ve got to give it a rest to-day!”
“Well, I must practice on something!” protested Mr. Tridge.
“Practice on Peter Lock, then,” recommended Mr. Clark.
Mr. Lock rose and looked over the side. Mr. Lock’s hair, oiled and combed to a miracle of sleekness, glistened in the sun; Mr. Lock’s chin and cheeks, bizarrely ornamented with strips of sticking-plaster, presented an object-lesson in first aid to the injured.
“I’ve struck!” announced Mr. Lock. “I ain’t going to humour him no more. I’ve let ’im practise shaving on me till me face looks as if some one had been playing noughts-and-crosses on it in red ink, and I’ve let him shampoo and brilliantine my hair till I can’t hardly read for the smell of it.”
“’Orace told me to put in all the practice I could,” said Mr. Tridge, stoutly. “And I’m going to.”
“But what for?” queried Mr. Clark. “What for? That’s what I wants to know.”
“So do I!” admitted Mr. Tridge. “’Orace ’asn’t told me yet. All ’e’s told me to do is to train meself for ’air-dressing, and that’s what I’m doing. What ’Orace says is good enough for me!”
Mr. Clark nodded approval of such simple loyalty.He mentioned that even when Horace had been cook to the “Jane Gladys” he was always averse from premature revelation of the workings of his mind; and went on to say that now Horace was no longer Horace the cook, but had blossomed out into Mr. Horace Dobb, second-hand dealer, carrying on business in a little shop in Fore Street, Shorehaven, he cultivated an even greater reticence in matters of diplomacy.
“‘Learn a bit of ’air-dressing,’ says ’Orace to me,” narrated Mr. Tridge, “and I’m learning a bit of ’air-dressing according. ’Orace ’as got something in ’is mind, you can depend on that. And I take it a bit uncharitable of you, Sam, not to ’elp me and ’Orace. ’Ow can I practise ’air-dressing if I don’t get no ’air to dress?”
“Practise on the ship’s mop,” put forward Mr. Clark.
“I’ve done that,” said Mr. Tridge, with scorn for so obvious a suggestion. “I’ve propped that up and give it a ’air-cut over and over again, till it’s only a bare stump now. Yes, and I’ve clean-shaved the ship’s scrubbing-brush, too, to see how I’d get on with a really stiff beard. But you must ’ave living models to do any good. ’Ow else can you tell if you’re ’urting?”
“Oh, well,” yielded Mr. Clark, “just to keep your ’and in, I’ll let you shave the back of my neck if you like, only don’t forget that the back of me neck don’t leave off level with the top of my ears.”
He fastened his boat and went aboard his old home. Seating himself resignedly on a packing-case, he submitted to the ministrations of Mr. Tridge. So that Mr. Horace Dobb, appearing presently on the gang-plank, expressed commendation of the assiduity with which Mr. Tridge was seeking to acquire tonsorial skill.
“All the same, ’Orace,” remarked Mr. Tridge, “I should like to know what the idea is.”
“Only another day or two, Joe,” promised Mr. Dobb, “and then, if things pan out right, you’ll be cutting ’air in a little shop practically your own. ’Ow’s that, eh?”
“Well, I take it as very kind of you, ’Orace,” said Mr. Tridge, with gratitude.
“Then you takes it wrong,” retorted Mr. Dobb. “You know my motter, don’t you?”
“Yes, we all knows it,” put in Mr. Lock, a little hostilely. “It’s ‘Strictly Business!’ Saved you a pint or two in its time, hasn’t it, that motter?”
“It ’as,” confirmed Mr. Dobb, by no means abashed. “It is a jolly good motter, far as I’m concerned. And this ’air-dressing idea is strictly business. I’m working it for all our sakes, and mine most of all. When I’ve got Joe settled as a barber and found something for you, Peter, the four of us ought to work some good deals together, from my little place.”
“A ferryman, a barber, a—a something else, and a second-hand dealer,” catalogued Mr. Lock. “It ain’t a bad web to spread. Lots of rubbish gets sold because of rumours about them being vallyble.”
“Exackly!” concurred Mr. Dobb. “And barbers’ shops and ferry-boats is the place for gossip. And there’s lots of strangers visits Shore’aven during the year.”
“And so you’re going to start me in a barber’s shop!” remarked Mr. Tridge, with great satisfaction. “Will there be a cash-register?” he asked, as an interesting after-thought.
“No,Iain’t going to start you, Joe,” corrected Mr.Dobb. “It’s a Mrs. Jackson what’s going to start you, only she don’t know it yet.”
“A widow!” divined Mr. Tridge.
“A old widow, and a bit of a pal of my missis’s,” supplemented Mr. Dobb.
“Ah, I guessed there was a catch somewhere!” sourly stated Mr. Tridge. “Well, I ain’t going to get married, see? I ain’t at all the marrying sort. I prefers to remain single, thank you. Besides which, I’ve got one somewhere, already.”
“That’s all right, Joe,” returned Mr. Dobb, soothingly. “I expect she’d turn up ’er eyes at you in ’oly ’orror in any case. She’s a pillar of temp’rance, Joe, and a anti-smoker and a anti-gambler, and all the rest of it.”
“No wonder she’s a widow!” softly commented Mr. Lock.
“And, anyway,” said Mr. Tridge, churlishly, “I don’t want no business dealings with a woman likethat!”
“You won’t see ’er often, Joe,” returned Mr. Dobb. “She only comes into Shore’aven once a month or so, just to collect the rents of a few cottages she’s got. Comes in for the day, she does, settles ’er business, gets a cheap tea along of my missis, and back she goes ’ome, a good three miles away.”
“Well, where do I come in?” asked Mr. Tridge.
“You comes in at one hundred and twenty-one, ’Igh Street,” replied Mr. Dobb. “That belongs to ’er. It’s a little, tiny, squeezed-in shop what she owns. It’s a barber’s shop.”
“I see. And I’m to be the hassistant,” surmised Mr. Tridge.
“Hassistant? Why, it’s so small that if there wasto be a hassistant there’d be no room left for a customer! No, Joe; you’re to run the ’ole show. The chap what’s there now is leaving soon, you see.”
Mr. Dobb, anticipating the further curiosity of Mr. Tridge, went on to explain that the present tenant was in occupation of the premises on profit-sharing terms with the landlady. The stock and fixtures had recently come into Mrs. Jackson’s possession in the course of business, subsequent to the temporary employment of a broker’s man.
And now Mrs. Jackson, loth to lose her interest in the barbering profession, designed to procure yet another hairdresser to fill the place, on the same terms of partnership, of the dispossessed tenant.
“Of course,” said Mr. Dobb, “I ain’t supposed to know much about it. I only know what she’s told my missis in gossip, and I must say my missis is a good ’un at asking a few simple questions over a cup of tea without appearing nosey over it.”
“Well, and what do I do now?” asked Mr. Tridge. “Go up and ask ’er for the job?”
“Bless you, no!” was Horace’s baffling response. “Why, she’s filled it already, far as she’s concerned.”
“That’s the back of my neck, Joe, when you’ve finished cutting rashers out of it,” came Mr. Clark’s mild reminder.
“Well, ’Orace shouldn’t go giving me shocks like that!” indignantly exclaimed Mr. Tridge. “’Ere ’ave I been spending a ’ole week learning ’air-dressing in all its branches, and now, just when I’m perfect, ’e breaks the noos to me in a roundabout way that I’ve wasted my time for nothing!”
“I said as far asshewas concerned, Joe,” remarked Mr. Dobb. “Not as far asIwas concerned. That’sa very different matter. You just carry on and wait a day or two. And you, Sam Clark, you tell your boss that you’re rather hexpecting to ’ave another attack of colic soon, and stand by to take horders from me at any minute.”
Refusing to shed further enlightenment at this juncture, Mr. Dobb turned and left the “Jane Gladys” with rather a consciously Napoleonic stride.
For the rest of that day Mr. Tridge and Mr. Lock found engrossing employment in devising theories as to the exact nature of Mr. Dobb’s machinations. Mr. Lock was of opinion that Mr. Tridge would be called on to impersonate Mrs. Jackson’s new partner in the hairdressing business, though he admitted that he could not imagine how this was to be carried through to complete success. On the other hand, Mr. Tridge, displaying a truculent species of pessimism, obstinately inclined to the belief that yet a parson and a wedding-ring would be found to be lurking at the back of Mr. Dobb’s strategy.
And Mr. Samuel Clark, ever somewhat crude and confused in his ideas, plied his ferry all that afternoon, oblivious of his surroundings even to the point of returning thanks for a tip of a French halfpenny. The only thing his mind could dwell on was that, at some near date, the widowed Mrs. Jackson was to be lured by Horace into a hairdressing saloon and there relieved, by some pretext, of the money she had been collecting in rents. The morality of such a proceeding did not trouble the plump sailorman; he found sufficient extenuation in the thought that it was the job of the police to prevent such things.
But late that same evening, at the “Jolly Sailors,” Mr. Dobb exhibited himself in a more communicativemood. Assembling his former shipmates around him, he extended a strictly rationed hospitality towards them, and then, of his own free-will, reverted to the twin subjects of the hairdressing business and Mrs. Jackson.
“The old gal came in to tea quite unexpected to-day,” he said. “That’s three times in a little over a fortnight. ’Owever, I sold ’er a second-’and dish-cover, so she’s paid for more than she’s ate up to now. She sat a long time over ’er tea chatting to my missis. Of course it didn’t hinterest me, so I went out into the shop. Only I couldn’t ’elp ’earing a lot, because some-’ow I’d left the door open, and it would ’ave looked so rude to ’ave closed it deliberate between us.”
He leaned back and, with a smile of profound self-satisfaction, eyed each of his friends in turn.
“Well?” prompted Mr. Tridge.
“The new chap she’s got ’er eye on is arriving the day after to-morrow to see the place and fix up finally with ’er. Oh, she’s very took with ’im! She ain’t ever seen ’im yet, but ’is letters ’ave touched ’er ’eart proper. It seems ’e’s just the very sort of chap she’s been advertising for—a lifelong teetotaller, a nonsmoker, never bets nor swears, always punctual, steady, and methodical.”
“In short,” restively summarized Mr. Tridge, “just the sort of chap Iain’t! Seems to me I stands a fine chance against ’im with a silly old geezer like ’er!” he added, ungallantly. “’Owever, go on!”
“’E’s coming down from London by the hexpress. Well, now, supposing ’e didn’t harrive, or something went wrong and they failed to come to a hagreement? Why, the shop would be standing empty from next Saturday, and she’d be at ’er wits’ ends to find some one else! She’s spent pounds in hadvertising for ateetotal, non-smoking barber as it is. Well, up you goes to see ’er, Joe Tridge, givesmeas a reference, and gets the job temporary. And once you’re in, you ain’t the man you used to be if anything short of dynamite gets you out of that job again.”
“But why couldn’t you ’ave recommended me to start with?”
“I didn’t know in time. And, for another thing, she was so set on getting a pattern of virtue. But when she finds things ’ave gone wrong, and there’s no time to spare, unless she’s willing to lose money by it, she won’t be so partic’lar, and she’ll overlook some of your faults, Joe, if you keeps the rest of ’em dark.”
“You seem pretty sure things are going wrong,” said Mr. Tridge.
“I can feel it in me bones,” returned Mr. Dobb. “Anyway Mrs. Jackson’s coming in the day after to-morrow to meet this chap at one hundred and twenty-one, ’Igh Street. Now, Imaybe at the station when ’e arrives, and pass the time of day with ’im.”
“I can ’ear the dawn breaking,” observed Mr. Tridge, humorously. “You’ll tell ’im there’s nothing doing, and say you were sent by ’er to meet ’im and tell ’im so. And she’ll think ’e never come?”
“Helementary, Joe,” criticized Mr. Dobb. “Most helementary! ’E’d write to ’er when ’e got back, and then the fat ’ud be out of the frying-pan and into the fire. No, I mean to fix it so that she’s finished with ’im for good and all two minutes after she’s first set eyes on ’im!”
“And ’ow do you do that?” asked Mr. Lock. “Mesmerism?”
“No, circumstantial hevidence,” returned Mr. Dobb,happily. “There’s more people comes a cropper over circumstantial hevidence than over the truth coming out by haccident, and that’s saying a lot!”
He glanced warily about him, and then raised his arms in a gesture inviting closer heed to his words. Four heads bent over the table; three pairs of ears listened attentively. From one pair of lips came a whispered fluency of instruction and explanation. Finally, Mr. Dobb sat back with simpering pride, and his three companions unanimously expressed their awed respect for his brain-powers.
Again Mr. Dobb bent forward to add sundry details, promising to instruct those selected for dramatic roles at a more private opportunity on the morrow.
Mr. Samuel Clark, flattered by having the star part assigned to him, promised that he would rehearse on every possible occasion during the following day. Some twenty-two hours later Mr. Dobb called at Mr. Clark’s lodgings to see whether he was fulfilling this promise, and Mr. Clark at once afforded him something in the nature of a dress rehearsal.
“Puffect!” declared Horace, with enthusiasm. “A born actor couldn’t do it better, especially when you rolls your eyes up like that. I see it was blowing a bit fresh when I come along just now, so there’ll be a nice little ground-swell off the ’arbour-mouth to-morrow. ’Ave you arranged to ’ave colic to-morrow, like I told you?”
“All fixed up; and I’ve got some one else to look after the ferry for the day, and I’ve borrowed a small boat, like what you said. And I shall be waiting where you told me all the morning.”
“That’s the idea!” approved Horace. “And now we’ll just go and see if Peter Lock remembers all he’sgot to say, and then we’ll see if the clock in the ‘Jolly Sailors’ keeps good time.”
Mr. Horace Dobb was patrolling the platform of Shorehaven railway-station next morning when the express from London came to a standstill there.
Of the few passengers that thankfully alighted, the majority were sailormen. Several women and children made up a goodly share of the rest of the number. Of the half-dozen residue, five were gentlemen known to Mr. Dobb by sight or personally. The sixth was a complete stranger, and Mr. Dobb, with a pious expression of gratitude for this simplification of his task of identifying Mrs. Jackson’s expected visitor, at once approached him.
“Are you going straight back to the Town ’All, Mr. Binson?” asked Horace, innocently.
“I’m afraid you’re making an error,” was the reply. “My name is not Binson.”
“Mean to tell me you’re not Mr. Binson, our town-clerk of Shore’aven ’ere?” demanded Mr. Dobb, incredulously.
“No, I am not. I am a complete stranger to this town.”
“Well, well,” marvelled Mr. Dobb, “you are the exact image of Mr. Binson, that’s all I can say.”
“Indeed?” returned the other, with scant interest in the coincidence. “Well, as I say, I am a perfect stranger here. I should be glad, in fact, if you would tell me the nearest way to the High Street. I have a business appointment there.”
“Oh!” said Mr. Dobb, with equal listlessness. “Which end of ’Igh Street? It makes a difference ’ow you goes from ’ere, according to which end you want.”
“Number one hundred and twenty-one. It’s a barber’s shop.”
“I know it,” said Mr. Dobb. “Name of Bonner.”
“At present, yes,” conceded the other. “It really belongs to a lady, though—to Mrs. Jackson. Perhaps you know her?”
“’Eard of ’er, I fancy,” returned Mr. Dobb, cursorily. “Pity you got out at this station, though. Your nearest would ’ave been the station the other side of the river. ’Owever, you come along of me, and I’ll see you on the right road. Shall we just ’ave one gargle before we start?”
“Gargle?” asked the other one, in perplexity.
“Tonic,” elucidated Mr. Dobb. “Drink.”
“Thank you, no,” was the reply. “I am a lifelong abstainer from all alcoholic drinks.”
“Just as you like,” said Mr. Dobb, readily. “Well, come along with me, and I’ll take you down to the ferry and get you taken across the river, and you’ll soon be there.”
“I didn’t know there was another station. I suppose the ferryisthe shortest way? I’m not a good sailor, and—”
Mr. Dobb’s eyes glinted.
“Oh, you’ll be all right!” he declared, and led the other man by devious paths away from the neighbourhood of the High Street and down to the harbour. To avoid questions which might be thorny to answer, Mr. Dobb walked swiftly and a little in advance of his companion, who, evidently deeming Mr. Dobb something of a roisterous blade, seemed relieved by this arrangement. Arrived at the quay, Mr. Dobb perceived the lounging form of Mr. Samuel Clark, and led the stranger up to him.
“This gent wants you to row ’im over to near the ’Igh Street, ferryman,” said Mr. Dobb. “Oh, and be as quick over it as you can,” he added, holding Mr. Clark’s gaze; “because ’e says ’e’s not a very good sailor.”
“I’ll be as quick as I can,” promised Mr. Clark; “but there’s a pretty strong tide running, sir, don’t forget.”
“There’s no risk I suppose?” asked the visitor, smiling a little anxiously.
“Bless you, no, sir,” declared Mr. Clark, cosily. “You’ll be as safe as ’ouses with me!”
With a courteous exchange of compliments, Mr. Dobb parted from his new acquaintance. A minute later Mr. Clark had begun to convey his passenger across the river, and Mr. Dobb was returning homeward with the mien of one whose morning has been well spent.
“The current seems quite strong,” remarked the gentleman from London.
“It are,” agreed Mr. Clark, straining at his sculls. “The current’s always pretty strong ’ere when the tide’s running out. Like a mill-stream sometimes, and the worst of it is that you don’t know it till you get well out on it.”