CHAPTER VIII.
AUNT ROB THINKS FLORENCE OUGHT TO MARRY A MARQUIS OR A PRINCE.
Dick Remington waited patiently to hear the full sum of the reproacheswhich Aunt Rob brought against him. He, too, saw with his mind's eyethe image of the young girl for whom he would have laid down his life,and if his thoughts of her brought a pang to his heart they were atthe same time charged with exceeding tenderness.
Inspector Robson shook himself free from dreams, and returned to hissubject.
"That is what Aunt Rob says. 'Here is Dick a grown man, and here isFlorence almost a grown woman. When Dick comes down in the morning hekisses Florence and she kisses him; and when he bids her good night hekisses her again. And,' says Aunt Rob, 'I don't know that this is athing that ought to be allowed to go on.' I dare say it's puzzledother people as well as us when kissing ought to be left off. So longas you were little it was as natural as natural could be. You wereplaymates and chums, and you rolled on the floor together and playedcoach and horses and London Bridge is Falling Down, and you'd carryher on your shoulder and lift her as high as the ceiling, and throwher up and catch her, she screaming with delight and crying, 'Again,Dick, again!' You grew up, Dick, and when you were eighteen Florencewas only twelve, and the kissing went on, and there was nothing toobject to. But you got to be twenty and Florence fourteen, and thekissing went on. Then her frocks were lengthened, and the pair of youcontinued to grow up till she was nineteen and you twenty-five--andall this time the kissing went on. Now, Dick, there _must_ come atime when, even between cousins, kissing must stop. Sometimes it'sdone gradual, sometimes all of a sudden, which makes things a bitawkward--but one way or the other it's got to be done. You must seethat yourself, Dick."
"Yes, I suppose so, uncle."
"And Aunt Rob has got an eye to the future. Pretty girls like Florencedon't grow on every gooseberry bush. Show me the girl that can comparewith her. Do _you_ know of one, Dick?"
"Not one in all the wide world," replied the young man. "God blessher, and make her happy!"
"She's been brought up sensible," said Inspector Robson. "She can makea beef steak pudding and play the piano; there's nothing she can'tturn her hand to, and the man that gets her will be a lucky chap. AuntRob thinks a gentleman born would not be too good for her. 'Why notsay a marquis, or a prince?' says I to her, speaking sarcastic like.And she bridles up and answers, 'Why not? He might do worse; hecouldn't do better.'"
"No gentleman in the land," said Dick, with a tremor in his voice,"could be too good for Florence. She's equal to the best, and couldhold her own among the best, even if they were born in a palace."
"That's what Aunt Rob thinks," said Inspector Robson, his eyes glowingwith loving pride, "and that's what we all think, and who that knowsFlorence could think differently? But let's come back to you, Dick,for that's the main point. Why don't you stick to one thing, my lad?"
"Perhaps because it won't stick to me," Dick replied.
"Nonsense, nonsense, lad, it's the other way about. Do you recollectthe morning you went to your first situation, and how we all stood atthe street door to see you off? There was Florence and Aunt Rob wavingtheir handkerchiefs and kissing their hands to you till you were outof sight. You kept that situation seven months, and then you threw itup. You didn't like the place, you said. All right. You got anothersituation, as traveller on commission in the sewing machine line. Youcommenced well, and was earning your fifteen shillings a week. Whatwas our surprise when you came home one night and told us you'd leftbecause it wouldn't suit you? The next thing you took to was thestage, and you gave us tickets to come and see you act. We rehearsedat home, and Florence gave you the cues. As for your make-up as youcall it, you did it so cleverly that we didn't know you when you comeon the stage. 'That's what he's cut out for,' I said. 'One of thesedays he'll have a theatre of his own.' But Aunt Rob shook her head.You wrote a little piece in one act, and got it played--actually gotit played. We thought it beautiful, and the way Florence laughed andcried over it--well! But it wasn't a success for all that. Still, youknow, Dick, if at first you don't succeed, try, try again. You didn'ttry again. You gave up the stage----"
Dick interposed with, "Or it gave up me."
"Anyway you left it. Your next move was clerk to Mr. Samuel Boyd ofCatchpole Square."
"Ah!" said Dick, and there was a look of inquiry in his eyes as hefixed them upon the Inspector.
"You may well say 'Ah,' for from what's known of him he's not the kindof man one would be proud to serve. What made you go to him?"
"I was hard up, and had been trying for a couple of months to get insomewhere. I was curious about him, too: thought he would do for acharacter that I could make up like if I ever went on the stage, orcould use if ever I wrote another play." He spoke with apparentcarelessness, but with a covert observance of the Inspector while hegave this explanation.
"It didn't surprise me that you remained with him only three months.When you left him you took to writing for the papers, and we read yourparagraphs and articles with wonder at your cleverness. You don't domuch in that way now, Dick?"
"Not much," said Dick, with a smile, "but I haven't given it upentirely. There is always the future."
"Ah, Dick, Dick," said Inspector Robson, very seriously, "we don'tlive in the future, we live in the present. When we're hungry a futuredinner won't satisfy our stomachs. Aunt Rob sums it up in three orfour words. 'Dick's got no stability,' she says, and, against my will,I've come round to her way of thinking. I suppose, Dick, all this timeyou haven't saved a penny--eh?" The young man made no reply, andInspector Robson cried, half angrily, half admiringly, "What businesshad you to be making us presents and bringing things home for Aunt Roband me and Florence when you ought to have been looking afteryourself? What did you do it for? 'Here's Dick brought home an immenseturkey,' says Aunt Rob to me at Christmas; and at other times, 'Here'sthat stupid Dick brought home a couple of chickens, or a veal and hampie,' and I don't know what all. 'I wish,' says Aunt Rob, 'that you'dtell him to stop it, and put his money into the savings bank.' But notyou! At the least mention of such a thing you fired up and wanted toknow what we meant by it."
"I could not have acted differently," said Dick. "I was living uponyou--yes, I was. You wouldn't take anything for my board and lodging,and I had to try and make it up in some way. It was little enough Idid, but if I hadn't done that little I should have been ashamed tolook you in the face. Besides, how many times have you said to me,'Dick, you must be in want of a bit of pocket money,' and forced ahalf sovereign upon me, and sometimes more?"
"Welcome you were to it," said Inspector Robson, in his heartiesttone, "though it's my firm belief if you had a thousand a year you'dnever have a shilling in your purse, you're that free with your money.A sailor come ashore after a two year's cruise is a fool to you." Hepaused a moment. "Dick, my lad, I've been too hard on you, in whatI've said: I'm downright ashamed of myself."
"It isn't in you, and it isn't in Aunt Rob, to do anything of whichyou need be ashamed. I have been thoughtless and inconsiderate----"
"No, no, Dick!"
"Yes, yes, uncle. I've been too much wrapped up in myself, and givenno thought to the best friends a young ne'er-do-well ever had. If Icould only make it up to you!" He turned his face to the wall, so thatthe Inspector should not see the tears that rushed into his eyes.
"Dick, my lad," said Inspector Robson, "have you got yourself into anymoney difficulty? Say the word, and I'll see what we can do to get youout of it."
"What a trump you are!" exclaimed Dick. "No, uncle. I owe no one ashilling except you and Aunt Rob."
"Don't keep on harping on that string or you'll get my temper up. Ifit isn't money, is it a woman?"
"If you mean whether I've entangled myself with a woman, or doneanything wrong that way, I can answer honestly, no."
"I knew it, my lad, I knew it," said Inspector Robson, triumphantly."Whatever your faults may be I was sure there wasn't a bit of vice
inyou. And now I tell you what it is; you shall come home with meto-night, your room's ready for you, and I'll make it all right withAunt Rob. Make it all right! It _is_ all right. 'The place isn't thesame, father,' she says to me, 'with Dick out of it.' If you knew howwe've missed you, my lad, you'd grow an inch taller."
"Who is it that has kept my room ready for me?"
"Aunt Rob and Florence, to be sure."
"And Florence," whispered Dick to himself, a wave of exceedingtenderness flowing over him.
"Florence it was who said to Aunt Rob, 'Mother, we mustn't let Dickthink when he comes back that we've been neglectful of him.' 'Ofcourse not,' said Aunt Rob, and up they go to see that everything issweet and clean. You know the pride that Aunt Rob takes in the house.You might eat off the floor. And there's Florence of a morningsweeping out your room, and looking in every corner for a speck ofdust. There's the canary and the cage you gave her, _and_ thegoldfish--why, if they were her own little babies she couldn't lookafter them better. So home we go together, and we'll let bygones bebygones and commence afresh."
"No, uncle, I can't come home with you," said Dick, shaking his head."I thank you from my heart, but it can't be."
"Not come home with me!" exclaimed Inspector Robson, in greatastonishment. "Why, what's the matter with the lad? You don't mean it,Dick, sure_ly!_"
"I do mean it, uncle."
"Dick, Dick, Dick," said Inspector Robson, shaking a warningforefinger at the young man, "pride's a proper thing in the rightplace, but a deuced ugly thing when it makes us take crooked views. Isay you _shall_ come home with me. Do you know what kind of a night itis, lad? I wouldn't turn a dog out in such weather, unless it was ablind dog, and then it wouldn't matter much. Come, come, Dick, thinkbetter of it."
"Nothing can alter my resolution, uncle--nothing. I did not come hereto-night to annoy you; I wanted a shelter, and I hoped the fog wouldclear; but it seems to have grown thicker. However, it can't last forever. In three or four hours it will be morning, and then----"
"Go on. And then?"
"The night will be gone, and it will be day," said Dick, gaily.
"And to-morrow night?"
"It will be night again."
"And you'll sleep in Buckingham Palace, for it stands to reason a manmust sleep somewhere, and they don't charge for beds there that I'maware of. How's the treasury, lad?" Dick laughed. "It's no laughingmatter. Here's a sovereign; it'll see through the week at all events."
"I'm not going to rob you, uncle," said Dick in a shaking voice.
Inspector Robson caught Dick's hand, forced it open, forced asovereign into it, and closed the young man's fingers over it, holdingthe hand tight in his to prevent the money being returned. In theexecution of a ruthless action the Inspector's muscles were of iron.
"If you drop it, or try to give it me back," he said, "I'll lock youup and charge you with loitering for an unlawful purpose. What willFlorence think when she sees your name in the papers and my namecharging you? Be sensible for once, Dick, if you've any feeling forher."
The blood rushed up into Dick's face, and he staggered as if he hadbeen struck; but he recovered himself quickly, and was the sameindolent, easy-mannered being as before.
"Thank you, uncle; I'll keep the sovereign. Before the week's out Idaresay I shall get something to do. The mischief of it is, there'snothing stirring; stagnation's the order of the day. If I could hitupon something startling and be first in the field, I should get wellpaid for it. Would you object to my dashing on the colour in anarticle headed, 'A Night in an Inspector's Office.'? I think I couldmake it lurid."
Before the laughing Inspector could reply a constable entered, holdingby the arm a poorly dressed woman of woebegone appearance. Hergestures, her sobs, the wild looks she cast around, were those of awoman driven to distraction. Clinging to her skirts was a little girlas woebegone and white-faced as her mother.
Inspector Robson instantly straightened himself; he was no longer aprivate individual, but an officer of the law prepared for duty inwhatever complicated shape it presented itself.
"She's been here half-a-dozen times to-night, sir," said theconstable, "and last night as well, and the night before. She's losther husband, she says."
"My husband--my husband!" moaned the woman. "Find him for me--find himfor me! He's gone, gone, gone! Merciful God! What has become of him?"
Inspector Robson saw at a glance that here before him was no womanmaddened by drink, but a woman suffering from terrible distress; andby a motion of his hand he conveyed an order to the constable, whoinstantly took his hand from the woman's arm.
"What is your husband's name?" asked the Inspector in a gentle tone.
"Abel Death, sir. Oh, for God's sake find him for me--find him forme--find him for me!"
Tears rolled down her face and choked her voice. Every nerve in herbody was quivering with anguish.
"How long has he been gone?" asked the Inspector.
"Five days, sir, five long, long days."
"Was he in employment?"
"Yes, sir, yes. Oh, what can have become of him?"
"What is the name of his employer?"
The agony the woman had endured overcame her, and she could notimmediately reply.
"Mr. Samuel Boyd, sir, of Catchpole Square," said the child.
Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square: A Mystery Page 9