CHAPTER XII.
DICK CONFESSES HOW HE BEHAVED HIMSELF IN THE SERVICE OF SAMUEL BOYD.
But Dick's nature was too elastic for morbid reflections such as theseto hold possession of him for any length of time.
"Come, come, old man," ran again the tenor of his musings, "this sortof thing won't do, you know. What's the use of crying for the moon?Leave that to children. Now where did I leave off? Ah--where Mr.Reginald was a regular visitor at Aunt Rob's house. All that time thename of Boyd was not mentioned by Florence or her parents. Nor did itpass my lips.
"I took service with Mr. Samuel Boyd in order to obtain a clue to hisson's suppression of his name. Before I had been with him a week Igauged his character. Devoid of the least sign of generous sentiment,crafty, tricky, mean, overbearing to those in his power, fawningto those above his station from whom he hoped to obtain someadvantage--such is the character of this odious man, whose son wasthen winning, or had won, his way into Florence's heart. If there isany truth in the adage, 'Like father, like son,' what a fate is instore for her! Fervently do I trust that this is not so, though thereare tricks of inheritance from which it is impossible to escape.
"Not once did I see Mr. Reginald in his father's house, nor did Mr.Boyd make the slightest reference to him. Had Mr. Boyd any otherresidence in which he and his son were in the habit of meeting? No--helived in Catchpole Square, had his meals there, slept there,transacted his business there. Yet his son was in London, within easydistance of him. It was obvious that they were not on friendly terms.I set my wits to work to ascertain the cause, but cautious as I was, Ifound myself baffled at every turn. Convinced that Mr. Boyd would turnme out of the house the moment his suspicions were aroused, the task Ihad undertaken proved more difficult than I had anticipated. If I keptsecret watch upon him he kept secret watch upon me. That he had noconfidence in me is not strange, for he has no confidence in any man.And the cunning tricks he played! He would leave me alone and godownstairs and slam the street door, to make me believe that he hadleft the house. Then, though not another sound had reached my ears, hewould suddenly enter the room, treading like a cat, and with a slysmile on his lips, and his cunning eyes would wander around to assurehimself that not an article had been shifted or removed.
"I remained with him three months, and discovered--nothing. During thefirst two months I did not tell them at home where I was employed, andthey teazed me about making a secret of it. A week or so before I leftMr. Boyd's service I fired a shot straight at Mr. Reginald. It was ona Sunday, and we were sitting together, chatting as usual, when I saidsuddenly, 'I don't see, Aunt Rob, why I should continue to make amystery of the work I am doing. I am clerk to Mr. Samuel Boyd, ofCatchpole Square.' Mr. Reginald flushed up, but I took no notice, andwent on to say that I had resolved not to stay much longer in theplace--that the pay was miserable, that the kind of business donethere was disreputable and execrable, and that Samuel Boyd was one ofthe trickiest and cunningest fellows in all London; in fact, I gavehim the worst of characters, and my only excuse is that he thoroughlydeserved it. 'That's another situation thrown up,' said Aunt Rob. 'Oh,Dick, Dick, a rolling stone gathers no moss.' 'Would you advise me tostop with such a man, and gather dirt?' I asked. 'No, I would not,'she answered emphatically. 'That Samuel Boyd must be an out-and-outrascal.' 'He is,' I said. 'You would hardly believe the things I'veseen in his office, the pitiless ruin he brings upon people.' Mr.Reginald said never a word; the flush died out of his face, and itturned white. I looked at Florence--no sign upon _her_ face that sheknew anything of the man we were speaking of. Here was proof positivethat Mr. Reginald had introduced himself under false colours.
"As all Mr. Boyd's other clerks had done, _I_ left at a moment'snotice, but I did not give him the opportunity of discharging me. Idischarged him. He had played me one of his usual tricks, pretendingto leave the house and sneaking in noiselessly behind my back andlooking over my shoulder. It happened that, with my thoughts onFlorence and Mr. Reginald, I had idly scribbled his name on a piece ofpaper, Mr. Reginald Boyd. Before I could put the paper away he hadseen it. 'Ah,' he said, without any show of passion, 'I have found youout at last, you scoundrel!' 'Scoundrel yourself,' I cried. 'Mr.Samuel Boyd, I discharge you. I've had about enough of you.' 'I've hadmore than enough of you,' he snarled. 'You came here to spy upon me,did you? You and your Mr. Reginald are confederates, are you, and youwormed yourself into my service in pursuance of some plot against me.I'll prosecute the pair of you for conspiracy.' 'You are a fool aswell as a knave, Mr. Samuel Boyd,' I said, laughing in his face. 'Asfor prosecuting me, shall I fetch a policeman, or will you go for one?I shall have something to tell him that will get into the papers. Itwill make fine reading.' He turned white at this. 'Go,' he said,throwing open the door. And I went, without asking for the five days'pay due to me, to which, perhaps, I was not entitled as I left himwithout giving him notice.
"Now, Dick, old man, what is to be done? The straight thing is tospeak first to Mr. Reginald himself, and that I'll do before I'm manydays older."
Here Dick's meditations came to an end. There were no indications thatthe fog was clearing, but his service with Samuel Boyd had made himfamiliar with the neighbourhood, and he threaded his way towardsCatchpole Square without much difficulty. He had not met a soul on theroad; the streets were quite deserted. "A man could almost fancy," hethought, "that he was walking through the vaults of death." In ShoreStreet--the backs of the houses in which faced the fronts of thehouses in Catchpole Square--he stumbled against a human being whocaught him by the arm.
"Who are you when you're at home?" demanded the man. "Here--let's havea look at you. I've had a large dose of shadders to-night; it's arelief to get hold of bone and muscle."
He pulled out his bull's-eye lamp and held it up to Dick's face, wholaughingly said, "Well, what do you make of my face? You're clevererthan I am, Applebee, if you can distinguish features on such a nightas this."
"Why, if it ain't Mr. Dick Remington!" cried Constable Applebee. "Begyour pardon, sir, but I've been that put out to-night that I can't besure of anything. If anybody was to say to me, 'Applebee, that head onyour shoulders don't belong to you,' I'd half believe him, I wouldindeed, sir. What with shadders that wouldn't give you a civil answerwhen you spoke to 'em, and that you could walk right through, andtaking hold of flesh and blood that slipped through your fingerslike a ghost, to say nothing of the fog, which is a pretty largeorder--well, if all that ain't enough to worry a night policeman, I'dlike to know what is."
Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square: A Mystery Page 13