Half A Chance

by Frederic Stewart Isham

  CHAPTER XVII

  THE UNEXPECTED

  Before the sudden fierce passion gleaming on John Steele's face, thebright flame of his look, the person who had accosted him shrank back;his pinched and pale face showed surprise, fear; almost incoherently hebegan to stammer. Steele's arm had half raised; it now fell to his side;his eyes continued to study, with swift, piercing glance, the man whohad called. He was not a fear-inspiring object; hunger and privationseemed so to have gripped him that now he presented but a pitiableshadow of himself.

  Did John Steele notice that changed, abject aspect, that bearing, devoidtotally of confidence? All pretense of a certain coster smartness thathe remembered, had vanished; the hair, once curled with cheapjauntiness, hung now straight and straggling; a tawdry ornament whichhad stood out in the past, absurdly distinct on a bright cravat, withmany other details that had served to build up a definite type ofindividual, seemed to have dropped off into oblivion.

  Steele looked about; they two, as far as he could see, were alone. Heregarded the man again; it was very strange, as if a circular stage, thebuskined world's tragic-comic wheel of fortune, had turned, and a personwhom he had seen in one character had reappeared in another.

  "I ask your pardon." The fellow found his voice. "I'll not be troublingyou further, Mr. Steele."

  The other's expression altered; he could have laughed; he had beenprepared for almost anything, but not this. The man's tones werehopeless; very deferential, however.

  "You were about to beg--of me?" John Steele smiled, as if, despite hisown danger, despite his physical pangs, he found the scene odd,unexampled, between this man and himself--this man, a sorry vagrant;himself, become now but a--"You were about to--?"

  "I had, sir, so far forgotten myself as to venture to think of applyingfor temporary assistance; however--" Dandy Joe began to shuffle off in aspiritless way, when--

  "You are hungry?" said John Steele.

  "A little, sir."

  "A modest answer in view of the actual truth, I suspect," observed theother. But although his words were brusk, he felt in his pocket; asovereign--it was all he had left about him. When he had departedpost-haste for Strathorn House, he had neglected to furnish himself withfunds for an indefinite period; a contingency he should have foreseenhad risen; for the present he could not appear at the bank to drawagainst the balance he always maintained there. His own future, how heshould be able to subsist, even if he could evade those who sought him,had thus become problematical. John Steele fingered that last sovereign;started to turn, when he caught the look in the other's eyes. Did itrecall to him his own plight but a short twenty-four hours before?

  "Very well!" he said, and was about to give the coin to the man and walkaway, when another thought held him.

  This fellow had been a link in a certain chain of events; the temptationgrew to linger with him, the single, tangible, though paltry anduseless, figure in the drama he could lay hands on. John Steele lookedaround; in a byway he saw the lighted window of a cheap oyster buffet.It appeared a place where they were not likely to be interrupted, andmotioning to the man, he wheeled abruptly and started for it.

  A few minutes later found them seated in the shabby back room; a numberof faded sporting pictures adorned the wall; one--how John Steelestarted!--showed the 'Frisco Pet in a favorite attitude. Absorbed instudying it, he hardly heard the proprietor of the place, and it was Joewho first answered him; he had the honor of being asked there by thisgentleman, and--he regarded John Steele expectantly.

  Steele spoke now; his dark eyes shone strangely; a sardonic expressionlurked there. The proprietor could bring his companion a steak, if hehad one. Large or small?--large--with an enigmatical smile.

  The "hexibition styke" in the window; would that do, queried theproprietor, displaying it.

  Would it? the eyes of the erstwhile dandy of the east side asked of JohnSteele; that gentleman only answered with a nod, and the supplementalinformation that he would take "half a dozen natives himself." Theproprietor bustled out; from an opposite corner of the room, the onlyother occupant regarded with casual curiosity the two ill-assortedfigures. Tall, florid, Amazonian, this third person represented a fairexample of the London grisette, the _petite dame_ who is not verypetite, of its thoroughfares. Setting down a pewter pot fit for aguardsman, she rose and sauntered toward the door; stopping there, withone hand on her hip, she looked back.

  "Ever see 'im?" she observed, nodding her bonnet at the portrait."Noticed you appeared hinterested, as if you 'ad!"

  "Perhaps!" Steele laughed, not pleasantly. "In my mind's eye, as thepoet says."

  "Wot the--!" she retorted elegantly. "'Ere's a swell toff to chawf alidy! 'Owever," reflectively, "I'ave 'eard 'e could 'it 'ard!"

  "But that," said the gentleman, indicating the tankard, "could hitharder."

  "My hyes; wot's the name of yer missionary friend, ragbags?" to Joe.

  "The gentleman's a lawyer, and when I tell you his name is--"

  John Steele reached over and stopped the speaker; the woman laughed.

  "Perhaps it ayn't syfe to give it!"

  Her voice floated back now from the threshold; predominated for a momentlater in one of the corners of the bar leading to the street: "Oi soi,you cawn't go in for a 'arf of bitters without a bloomin' graveyard mistcomin' up be'ind yer back!" Then the door slammed; the modern prototypeof the "roaring girl" vanished, and another voice--hoarse, that of aman--was heard:

  "The blarsted fog is coming down fast."

  For some time the two men in the little back room sat silent; then oneof them leaned over: "She might have asked you that question, eh, Joe?"The speaker's eyes had turned again to the picture.

  The smaller man drew back; a shiver seemed to run over him. "They're along while about the steak," he murmured.

  "For your testimony helped to send him over the water, I believe?" wenton the other.

  "How do you--? I ain't on the stand now, Mr. Steele!" A spark ofdefiance momentarily came into Dandy Joe's eyes.

  "No; no!" John Steele leaned back, half closed his eyes; again pain,fatigue seemed creeping over him. Outside sounded the clicking andclinking of glasses, a staccato of guffaws, tones _vivace_. "The harm'sbeen done so far as you are concerned; you, as a factor, havedisappeared from the case."

  "Glad to hear you say so, Mr. Steele. I mean," the other's voice wasuncertain, cautious, "that's a matter long since dead and done with.Didn't imagine you ever knew about it; because that was before yourtime; you weren't even in London then." The keen eyes of the listenerrested steadily on the other; seemed to read deeper. "But as for mytestimony helping to send him over the water--"

  "Or under!" _sotto voce_.

  Joe swallowed. "It was true, every word of it."

  "Good!" John Steele spoke almost listlessly. "Always stick by any onewho sticks to you,--whether a friend, or a pal, or a patron."

  "A patron!" From the other's lips fell an oath; he seemed about to saysomething but checked himself; the seconds went by.

  "But even if there had been something not quite--strictly inaccord--which there wasn't"--quickly--"a man couldn't gainsay what hadbeen said," Dandy Joe began.

  "He could," indifferently.

  "But that would be--"

  "Confessing to perjury? Yes."

  "Hold on, Mr. Steele!" The man's eyes began to shine with alarm. "I'mnot on the---"

  "I know. And it wouldn't do any good, if you were."

  "You mean--" in spite of himself, the fellow's tones wavered--"becausehe's under the water?"

  "No; I had in mind that even if he hadn't been drowned, your---"

  "Wot! Hadn't---"

  "A purely hypothetical case! If the sea gave up its dead"--Joe stirreduneasily--"any retraction on your part wouldn't serve him. In the firstplace, you wouldn't confess; then if you did--which you wouldn't--toemploy the sort of Irish bull you yourself used--you would bediscredited. And thus, in any contingency," leaning back with foldedarms, his head against the wall,
"you have become _nil_!"

  "Blest if I follow you, sir!"

  "That, also," said John Steele, "doesn't matter. The principal subjectof any consequence, relating to you, is the steak, which is now coming."As he spoke, he rose, leaving Dandy Joe alone at the table.

  For a time he did not speak; sitting before a cheerless fire, thatfeebly attempted to assert itself, he looked once or twice toward thedoor, as if mindful to go out and leave the place.

  But for an inexplicable reason he did not do so; there was nothing to begained here; yet he lingered. Perhaps one of those subtle, illusoryinfluences we do not yet understand, and which sometimes shape theblundering finite will, mysteriously, without conscious volition, was atwork. One about to stumble blindly forward, occasionally stops; why, heknows not.

  John Steele continued to regard the dark coals; to divers and sundrysounds from the table where the other ate, he seemed oblivious. Oncewhen the proprietor stepped in, he asked, without looking around, for acertain number of grains of quinine with a glass of water; they probablykept it at the bar. Yes, the man always had it on hand and brought itin.

  A touch of fever, might he ask, as the visitor took it; nothing to speakof, was the indifferent answer.

  Well, the gentleman should have a care; the gentleman did not replyexcept to ask for the reckoning; the proprietor figured a moment, thendeparted with the sovereign that had been tossed to the table.

  By this time Dandy Joe had pushed back his chair; his dull eyes gleamedwith satisfaction; also, perhaps, with a little calculation.

  "Thanking you kindly, sir, it's more than I had a right to expect. Ifever I can do anything to show--"

  "You can't!"

  "I don't suppose so," humbly. Joe looked down; he was thinking; acertain matter in which self-interest played no small part had come tomind. John Steele was known to be generous in his services and small inhis charges. Joe regarded him covertly. "Asking your pardon forreferring to it--but you've helped so many a poor chap--there's an oldpal of mine what is down on his luck, and, happenin' across him theother day, he was asking of me for a good lawyer, who could give himstraight talk. One moment, sir! He can pay, or soon would be able to,if--"

  "I am not at present," Steele experienced a sense of grim humor,"looking for new clients."

  "Well, I thought I'd be mentioning the matter, sir, although I hadn'tmuch hopes of him being able to interest the likes of you. You see he'sbeen out of old England for a long time, and was goin' away again, whenw'at should he suddenly hear but that his old woman that was, meaninghis mother, died and left a tidy bit. A few hundred pounds or so; enoughto start a nice, little pub. for him and me to run; only it's in thehands of a trustee, who is waiting for him to appear and claim it."

  "You say he has been out of England?" John Steele stopped. "How long?"

  "A good many years. There was one or two little matters agin him when heleft 'ome; but he has heard that certain offenses may be 'outlawed.' Notthat he has much 'ope his'n had, only he wanted to see a lawyer; andfind out, in any case, how he could get his money without--"

  "The law getting hold of him? What is his name?"

  "Tom Rogers."

  For some minutes John Steele did not speak; he stood motionless. On thestreet before the house a barrel-organ began to play; its tones, broken,wheezy, appealed, nevertheless, to the sodden senses of those at thebar:

  "Down with the Liberals, Tories, Parties of all degree."

  Dandy Joe smiled, beat time with his hand.

  "You can give me," John Steele spoke bruskly, taking from his pocket anote-book, "this Tom Rogers' address."

  Joe looked at the other, seemed about to speak on the impulse, but didnot; then his hand slowly ceased its motion.

  "I, sir--you see, I can't quite do that--for Tom's laying low, youunderstand. But if you would let him call around quiet-like, on you--"

  John Steele replaced the note-book. "On me?" He spoke slowly; Dandy Joeregarded him with small crafty eyes. "I hardly think the case will provesufficiently attractive."

  The other made no answer; looked away thoughtfully; at the same momentthe proprietor stepped in. Steele took the change that was laid on thetable, leaving a half-crown, which he indicated that Dandy Joe couldappropriate.

  "Better not think of going now, sir," the proprietor said to JohnSteele. "Never saw anything like it the way the fog has thickened; a mancouldn't get across London to-night to save his neck."

  "Couldn't he?" Dandy Joe stepped toward the door. "I'm going to have atry."

  A mist blew in; Dandy Joe went out. John Steele waited a moment, thenwith a perfunctory nod, walked quietly to the front door. The man hadnot exaggerated the situation; the fog lay before him like a thickyellow blanket. He looked in the direction his late companion hadturned; his figure was just discernible; in a moment it would have beenswallowed by the fog, when quickly John Steele walked after him.

  * * * * *