CHAPTER LIII.

A BAD NIGHT.

NEVERTHELESS, that vision, if it was a vision, cheered me. The more I thought of it, the more I felt that it meant something; and though free as any man can be from human superstition, here I found a special mercy, showing that I was not quite abandoned and forsaken. But I took good care not to make myself the laughing-stock of any one. Neither Uncle Corny, nor Henderson (who was now come back from his honeymoon), nor even Tabby Tapscott, who might well claim the best right of all, ever heard a word of it. To Mr. Golightly alone I spoke at all about the matter, and he, instead of laughing at me, took it very gravely.

“It is meant to encourage you,” he said; “and you should be thankful. Many even of the true believers have their doubts, as is natural, whether our little earthly course is guided by a higher hand; or whether in the light of full instruction we are left to work it out. But I venture to think with the men of old, that all things are ordered for us. You have had a bitter trial, such as befalls very few so young; and you have borne it well, my friend. Sometimes you have been gloomy and downcast, but never bitter. A more mysterious affliction I have never witnessed, and you know well how my heart is with you, though I seldom speak of it. ‘Bear and be strong’ is the true watchword, and you have kept it nobly. I pray that I may live to see you in your happiness again; and you may without presumption hold that this has been vouchsafed you, as a token of approval, and a signal to encourage you.”

So I tried to take it, though it seemed but meagre comfort. And I wished that I had broken my knees again, before I jumped up in such haste, and spoiled the chance of learning more. My darling seemed to have finished; but if I had only waited, very likely she would have begun again, as women generally do. Of geography I had little knowledge, except as taught at a grammar-school, and then it went some three inches down the “World as known to the ancients.” I doubted whether the south of France could be “thousands of miles” from Sunbury, though that might be a poetical expression, and no lady is expected to be accurate. And what was meant by the declaration, that I knew better than she did the reason of her quitting me? That looked as if I had done something wrong; and an inspired vision should have known that I had never even glanced at any other woman. Thinking of all this, I was puzzled, almost as much as comforted.

In the next thing that occurred I found a further element of puzzle, but none at all of comfort. It was now the usual thing for me, being in bachelor condition, to turn into my Uncle Corny’s house, at the time he was having his early dinner. Not that it mattered much to me; only that I was able thus to save myself from bread and cheese, and secure a little nourishment.

I was doing this to the best of my ability, without observing it, when in came Tony Tonks, as if he was running away from the bailiff. One of my firm convictions was that thin men never panted; but that impression, like all others, now required revising. Tony Tonks was in such a state, alike of mind and body, that neither could at all work out the meaning of the other.

We happened to have a little bit of boiled beef and young carrots; and my uncle was just helping me to a scutcheon of gristle at the corner. For he liked to keep a level cut, and he found me fitter now than he was, for the horny places. But Tony was in such a state, that when his knife and fork were laid, he said, “Not a bit for me, sir.”

My uncle looked at him as if he were troubled with his ears again, as he had been last winter. “Certainly, a nice bit,” he said; “and close to the bone accordingly. We buy it fresh, and we pickle it. At this time of year, the butchers make it leather with saltpetre.”

Tony saw that his face was stern; and to escape acrimony, he took my plate with all upon it that should have been for my inside. To this sort of thing I am too much accustomed to remonstrate.

“Not a word, till you have finished,” my uncle spoke decisively; “I have known a man who cut his throat, by talking too much at dinner-time.”

Mr. Tonks looked not unlikely to commit this error; but after yielding to my uncle’s orders he seemed better. Then he crossed his knife and fork, which is a very defiant thing to do, and said as if he shot a pea at us—“I am come to throw up my appointment.”

My uncle did not speak at first. When people took him suddenly, he would not be disturbed by any contagious gush of suddenness. And he waited for Tony to go on, instead of being pushed by him.

“What I mean is”—Tonks continued, seeing that he might as well go slowly—“I have done the best I can; and there is nothing more to be made of it. I can make out all about a horse, because he is straightfor’ard. But about a man is a different thing; and I shall go back to my business.”

“Have you been frightened?” asked my uncle, looking at him steadily.

“Not a bit of it. What is there to frighten me, or any one? In the eye of the law, we are all equal. The man who killed me would swing as high as if he had killed Prince Albert.”

“But that would not bring you back to life. You have been frightened, Tony Tonks; and it is useless to deny it.”

“Well, my life is as much to me as the greatest man’s that ever lived. ‘Frightened’ is not the proper word. Only I look things in the face, and weigh the rusk against the risk; and I find the last come heavier. And I am wanted now for the Leger nags. I am worth ten pounds a week at least, so I wish to say good-bye to you.”

“I call you a coward, and a sneak,” said my uncle, getting his wrath up; “and it serves us altogether right for dealing with such a fellow. I could not bear it from the first; but I listened to other people, as I am always much too apt to do. You won’t have your spy-money, I can tell you, for any day since Saturday.”

“Ah, but I’ve got it,” answered Mr. Tonks, who seemed well accustomed to reproaches; “it was paid in advance, you must remember. I have cashed it, and mean to stick to it.”

“I don’t quite see how that can be,” said my uncle, with great sagacity; “you must be making some mistake. You can never have got so in front of us.”

“Ah, but I have, old cock, I have. All expenses paid; and here is my five-pound note, as safe as eggs.” He tapped his pocket, in a manner quite unworthy of an experienced tout.

“Very kind of you to show us. We will have it back.” My uncle seized him by the waist, and planted him on the table. “Leave him to me, Kit. He won’t hurt me, and I won’t hurt him, if he is quiet.”

He pinned the spy’s arms with one of his, and took the note from his waistcoat pocket, while the poor man struggled vainly. Then he set him again on the floor, and said. “You should learn to be more just, my friend.”

“Highway robbery!” shouted Tonks.

“High table, you mean,” said my uncle.

“I’ll fetch the police. I’ll give you in charge. I’ll take out a warrant. I’ll—”

“You won’t do anything of the sort. Sit down, and reason quietly. You have broken contract; and if you were one of my workmen, I would pay you nothing. But as you are a poor little jackanapes, and did your best for us, I believe, until you got into this blue funk, you shall have half of this money, Tonks, to pay your way back to your proper work. But only on one condition—that you tell us what has scared you so.”

“Well,” answered Tonks very sulkily; “I always do what is fair and right. But you can’t expect a man to go with his life in his hand, to please you. Fact of it is I got into grief by following up that Migwell Bengoose, or whatever his name is. I told you that I was bound to do it, before Downy went to see him again, unless I could get any chance, you know, of seeing what was in that packet. And I got no chance at all of that, though I did my best in Bulwrag’s rooms, whenever I went to see him. But his hand, in spite of all the doctor’s work got swollen as big as a horse’s head pretty nearly; and his temper became that frightful, that I scarcely durst go nigh him, and of course there was nothing to watch, when he could scarcely get about at all. Naturally I did my best to make something out of his grumbles; but he would not have it, and at last he says, ‘Bowles, what the devil are you always after me for? It ain’t from friendly affection,’ he says, ‘and I can’t pick up anything now, you see. If you want to spy into family affairs, I’ve got one hand left,’ he says, ‘and that’s enough for you.’

“Well, that was pretty plain, you know. And worse than that, in comes the doctor, and says he will not answer for his life, unless he goes into some place where he can be properly nursed and tended. So Downy makes his mind up in two minutes, gives up his rooms in Dover Street, and goes back to Bulwrag Park, as they call it, for his mother to coddle and comfort him. And there they’ve got a hospital nurse, and a wheel-chair, and I don’t know what all; and much too grand of course for me to go near with a binocle. ‘You’d better come and see my mother, Bowles, when you want any further information,’ Downy said to me, with his frightful grin, like a yellow mangle-wuzzle, ‘ah, she does like answering questions—light and sweetness, that’s her nature!’

“So I was shut off, as you may suppose; and I pretty soon found out what made him so suspicious. He discovered somehow that I had been living, for the first week, you know, not afterwards, at good mother Wilcox’s place near by, and they look upon her as an enemy, no doubt, having been nurse to the young lady they have stolen. If you try any more watching work up there, you must not make that the head-quarters, for they keep a look-out there, you may depend. But I don’t see what more you have now to watch. The lady is out of England, you may take that for certain; most likely she is snug in some lunatic asylum, or nunnery perhaps, or monastery”—Mr. Tonks was not well versed in such matters—“either in the South of France, or somewhere on the Continent; and unless you can lay hold of Downy Bulwrag, and put him on the rack (as they do in Spain) until he squeaks out all the truth, there’s no chance of your being much the wiser. I mean, of course, unless she escapes, or comes to herself, or whatever it may be, and tells you all about it with her own lips; and that is not very likely. They know what they are about, a great deal better than you do.”

“Because they are scoundrels, and we are honest men,” said my uncle, making the little room resound; “it may take a long time, but we shall win, and grind them beneath our heels, sir. You have seen as much robbery, Tony Tonks, as any man yet created. Now don’t deny it, don’t falter with it; but speak, as you will have to speak that day, when you go where lies are useless. Have you ever known cheating prosper?”

“Better than anything else in the world. You can’t get on without it, Mr. Orchardson.”

“You know what I mean. Don’t play with words. Does it prosper in the long run?”

“It would, if they only knew when to stop; but that is just where the difference is. An honest man stops in good time, you know.”

“An honest man never begins,” said my uncle; “but it is no good talking to you, Tonks. You have got corrupted altogether. Well, what did you do about Bengoose?”

“Ah that’s just the point, that is. Says I to myself—‘Now the coast is clear, and I’ll have a turn at that fellow. Downy is laid up with his mammy, and I’ll get to the bottom of that affair.’ So I set off last night, with a pistol in my pocket, one of those Colt’s revolver things; for I knew it was a bad place, and they might not stick at trifles. And sure enough, they didn’t, as you must acknowledge. I came up very quiet, and knocked gently at the door and said ‘Cluck!’ as the fellow gave the ticket. It was opened very civil, and I asked for Migwell Bengoose, and the man said ‘All right, just wait a minute.’ A little dark place it was under the stairs, and I did not much like the look of it; for I could hear a lot of voices further on, and they seemed to be drinking and card-playing. However, I sat down where I was told, and began to think over my story. My plan was to tell him that the Captain was ill, and had sent me to say that the papers were all right, but he would like to know how he got hold of them, and where he could get the others that were mentioned in them, and to pay him a sovereign, just to keep things going, till the Captain should be about again. The fellow would remember seeing me with him, and I had made up a very nice tale of it.

“But the smell of the place was something awful, worse than all the bookmakers put together, and there is plenty to spare when you get among them. Either that, or something else, made me feel quite heavy, and I began to doze a little, though I fought very hard against it. And all of a sudden, before I could jump up, there was a leather strap round me, and my arms were buckled in it, as tight as you had me on the table, Squire; and a deal worse than that, for I was fastened to the chair, with a dollop of some stinking stuff across my eyes and mouth, so that I was blind and pretty well choked. Then my legs were tied together as tight as any hayband, and in that way I was left, I shall never know how long, to listen to a lot of blackguards laughing. There were women cackling too among the hooting of the men, and they cried ‘Cluck, cluck, my noble cock!’ and the worse I tried to rave at them the better they enjoyed it. Then they searched me, and took all my money, and my pistol, and threw me, chair and all, upon the floor, and whacked me on the arms and legs with a towel knotted up.

“I thought my last moment was come; and it would have been, if I had not shammed dead, and rolled over against the wall, where I got a little air, by rubbing the sacking against it, for I could not get my hands near my mouth. Then they began to talk in some thieves’ lingo, which I could not make head or tail of. But the upshot was that they released my face, and gave me some horrible stuff to drink, and let me lie there the Lord knows how long. I would rather die straight off than have such another night, for I saw great holes in the floor, and expected to be pitched down, and never come up again.

“At last a big fellow came and untied me, and pitched me out of the cellar-flap. ‘Had enough of cluck, cluck, haven’t you, old chap?’ he said as he banged the door behind me. And I found it was daylight, and I was in the court where I hid behind the truck from Downy. I was in such a state that I could scarcely crawl; but a good-natured coster put me on his barrow, and took me to Drury Lane, and there I found a cab. I never saw Bengoose all the time; but no doubt he had arranged it all, under orders from Downy Bulwrag. If you don’t think I have had enough of this job, I do, Mr. Orchardson.”

“Show your legs,” said my uncle, with a smile in which there was not too much compassion; “I don’t wish to be hard upon a man in trouble; but you are given to romance a little, by your own account, friend Tonks.”

“Never to my employers, sir. But look here!”

His poor little drumsticks had plainly been acting the part of the drum quite recently, and were painted of divers colours, while a broad stripe showed where the ligaments had been.

“I have a better opinion of you, Tonks, than I ever expected to have,” said my uncle. “You are a plucky little chap. Here’s your five-pound note, for you have earned it. It was your fault that I took it from you, because you defied me. Now go back to your proper work. And if ever you come this way, look in, and I will give you a good dinner.”