At Large
Page 8
VII
SOUTH KENSINGTON
The first act of every Australian who landed in England that summer was,very naturally, to visit the Exhibition--their Exhibition--at SouthKensington.
Dick was not an Australian, and it therefore did not consume him to putoff South Kensington until he had been a week or so quietly at home.Nevertheless he was sufficiently eager to inspect the choice products ofa land that he regarded with gratitude as indeed his alma mater; andstill more eager to expatiate on all that was to be seen to insularfriends, who believed that New Zealand was an inland colony, and whoasked if Victoria was not the capital of Sydney. On that very firstevening he had made a sort of offer to escort Colonel Bristo and Alice;but there he was too late; and he experienced the first of a series ofpetty mortifications--already mentioned--which originated from a commoncause. Mr. Miles had already been with the Bristos to the Exhibition,and had proved a most entertaining showman. He had promised to accompanythem again in a week or two; would not Dick join the party? For threevisits would be more than impartial persons, such as the Colonel and hisdaughter, were likely to care about--even with so splendid a cicerone asMr. Miles.
Of course, Dick was not going to play second fiddle to the Australiandeliberately and with his eyes open. He made his excuses, and neveralluded to the matter again. But one day, after a morning's business inthe City, he went alone.
When he was once in the vast place, and had found his way to theAustralian section, his interest speedily rose to a high pitch. It isone thing to go to an exhibition to be instructed, or to wonder what onearth half the things are; it is something quite different to findyourself among familiar objects and signs which are not Greek to you, tothread corridors lined with curios which you hail as the household godsof your exile. Instead of the bored outsider, with his shallowappreciation of everything, you become at once a discriminate observerand intelligent critic, and sightseeing for once loses its tedium. Dickwandered from aisle to aisle, from stand to stand, in rapt attention. Atevery turn he found something of peculiar interest to him: here it was aview of some township whose every stick he knew by heart; there a sampleof wood bearing on the printed label under the glass the name of a sheepstation where he had stayed time out of number.
The golden arch at the entrance to the Victorian Court arrested him, asit arrested all the world; but even more fascinating in his eyes was thecase of model nuggets close at hand. He heard a small boy asking hismamma if they were all real, and he heard mamma reply with bated breaththat she supposed so; then the small boy smacked his lips, and utteredawed (though slangy) ejaculations, and the enlightened parent led himon to wonders new. But Dick still gazed at the nuggets; he waswondering--if he could have it all over again--whether he would ratherpick up one of these fellows than win again their equivalent throughtoil and enterprise, step by step, when a smart slap on the back causedhim to turn sharp round with an exclamation.
A short, stout, red-faced man stood at his elbow with arms akimbo, andgrinned familiarly in his face. Dick looked him up and down with a stareof indignation; he could not for the life of him recognise the fellow;yet there he stood, his red-stubbled chin thrust forward, and a broad,good-humoured grin on his apish face, and dressed gorgeously. He wore ahigh white hat tilted backward, a snowy waistcoat, a dazzling tie, and ablack frock-coat, with an enormous red rose in the button hole. Hislegs, which now formed two sides of an equilateral triangle with thefloor for its base, were encased in startling checks, and his feet,which were small, in the glossiest patent leather. His left hand restedgloved upon his hip, and four fingers of his ungloved right hand werethrust into his waistcoat pocket, leaving the little one in the coldwith a diamond of magnitude flashing from its lowest joint.
"Euchred?" this gentleman simply asked, in a nasal tone of immensemirth.
"If you mean do I know you, I don't," said Dick, only a degree lesshaughtily than if he had come straight from Oxford instead of from thebush.
"What! you don't remember me?" exclaimed the man more explicitly, hisfingers itching to leap from the waistcoat-pocket.
Dick stared an uncompromising denial.
The diamond flashed in his eyes, and a small piece of pasteboard washeld in front of him, on which were engraved these words:
"The Hon. Stephen Biggs."
Dick repressed an insane impulse to explode with laughter.
"What! of Marshall's Creek?"
"The same."
Dick stretched out his hand.
"A thousand pardons, my dear fellow; but how could I expect to see youhere? And--the Honourable?"
"Ah!" said Mr. Biggs, with legitimate pride, "that knocks you, old man!It was only the Legislative Assembly when you and me was mates; it's theLegislative Council now. I'm in the Upper 'Ouse, my son!"
"I'm sure I congratulate you," said Dick.
"But 'ang the 'andle," continued the senator magnanimously; "call meSteve just the same."
"Well, it's like the whiff of the gum leaves to see you again, Steve.When did you arrive?"
"Last week. You see," confidentially, "I'm in my noo rig out--the bestyour London can do; though, after all, this Colony'll do as good any dayin the week. I can't see where it is you do things better than we do.However, come and have a drink, old man."
In vain Dick protested that he was not thirsty; Mr. Biggs was. Besides,bushmen are not to be denied or trifled with on such points. The littleman seized Dick's arm, marched him to the nearest bar, and called forbeer.
"Ah!" sighed Mr. Biggs, setting down his tankard, "this is the one pointwhere the Old Country licks us. This Colony can't come within a cooee ofyou with the beer, and I'm the first to own it! We kep' nothing likethis at my place on the Murray, now did we?"
Dick was forced to shake his head, for, in fact, the Honourable Stephenhad formerly kept a flourishing "hotel" on the Murray, where theColonial beer had been no better than--other Colonial beer--a brew witha bad name. Dick observed an odd habit Mr. Biggs had of referring to hisnative heath as though he were still on it, speaking of his country ashe would have spoken of it out there--as "this Colony."
The Honourable Steve now insisted on tacking himself on to Dick, andthey roamed the Exhibition together. Biggs talked volubly of hisimpressions of England and the English (he had crowded a great deal intohis first few days, and had already "done" half London), of theExhibition, of being feted by the flower of Britain and fed on the fatof the land; and though his English was scarcely impeccable a vein ofshrewd common sense ran through his observations which was as admirablein the man (he had risen very rapidly even for Australia) as it wascharacteristic of his class.
"By-the-bye," said Mr. Biggs, after they had freely criticised theromantic group of blacks and fauna in the South Australian Court, "haveyou seen the Hut?"
"No," said Dick.
"Then come on; it's the best thing in the whole show; and," droppinghis voice mysteriously, "there's the rummest go there you ever saw inyour life."
Everybody remembers the Settler's Hut. It was a most realistic property,with its strips of bark and its bench and wash-basin, though somebushmen were heard to deny below their breath the existence of any hutso spick and span "where they come from."
"Good!" said Dick, as soon as he saw the Hut. "That's the real thing, ifyou like."
"Half a shake," said Mr. Biggs, "and I'll show you something realler."He drew Dick to the window of the hut. "Look there!" he whispered,pointing within.
Three or four persons were inspecting the interior, and debating aloudas to how they personally should care to live in such a place; and each,as he surveyed the rude walls, the huge fireplace, the primitive cookingutensils, reserved his most inquisitive scrutiny for an oddly-dressedman who sat motionless and silent on the low bank, as though the Hutbelonged to him. A more colourable inference would have been that theman belonged to the Hut; and in that case he must have been admitted themost picturesque exhibit in the Colonial Courts,
as he looked the mostgenuine; for the man was dressed in the simple mode of an Australianstockman, and looked the part from the thin soles of his plainside-spring boots to the crown of his cabbage-tree hat. From under thebroad brim of the latter a pair of quick, dark eyes played restlesslyamong the people who passed in and out, or thronged the door of the hut.His shoulders were bent, and his head habitually thrust forward, so thatit was impossible, in the half-light, to clearly make out the features;but long, iron-gray locks fell over the collar of his coarse tweed coat,and a bushy, pepper-and-salt beard hid the throat and the upper portionof the chest. Old though the man undoubtedly was, his massive framesuggested muscularity that must once have been enormous, and must stillbe considerable.
"Now, what do you think of that cove?" inquired the Hon. Stephen Biggsin a stage whisper.
"Why," said Dick, who was frowning in a puzzled manner, "he looks thereal thing too. I suppose that's what he's there for. Now, I wonderwhere----"
"Ah, but it ain't that," broke in Biggs, "I've been here every day,almost, and when I see him here every day, too, I soon found out hedon't belong to the place. No; he's an ordinary customer, who pays hisbob every morning when the show opens, and stays till closing-time. He'sto be seen all over the Exhibition, but generally at the Hut--mostalways about the Hut."
"Well, if he isn't paid for it, what on earth is his object?" said Dick,as they moved away.
"Ah," said Mr. Biggs darkly, "I have a notion of my own about that,though some of the people that belong to this here place share it withme."
"And?" said Dick.
"And," said Mr. Biggs with emphasis, "in my opinion the fellow's thedead spit of a detective; what's more, you may take your Colonial oathhe is one!"
"Well," said Dick coolly, "I've seen him before, though I can't tellwhere. I remember his bulk and shape better than his face."
"Yes? By Jove, my boy, you may be the very man he's after!"
Mr. Biggs burst into a loud guffaw; then turned grave in a moment, andrepeated impressively: "A detective--my oath!"
"But he looks a genuine Australian, if ever I saw one," objected Dick.
"Well, maybe he's what he looks."
"Then do you think he's come over on purpose? It must be a big job."
"I think he has. It must."
"Ah," said Dick, "then I have seen him out there somewhere; probably inMelbourne."
"Quite likely," said Mr. Biggs. "There are plenty of his sort in thisColony, and as sharp as you'll find anywhere else, my word!"
A little later they left the Exhibition, and spent the eveningtogether.