The Lunatic at Large
Page 27
CHAPTER III.
That was Mr Bunker's first and last meeting with the Rev. John Duggs, andhe took no small credit to himself for having so effectually incensed hisneighbour, without, at the same time, bringing suspicion on anything morepertinent than his sobriety.
And yet sometimes in the course of the next three days he would have beenthankful to see him again, if only to have another passage-of-arms. Thetime passed most wearily; the consulting-room blinds were never raised; nocabs stopped before the doctor's door; nobody except the little servantever moved about the house.
He could think of no plan better than waiting; and so he waited, showinghimself seldom in the streets, and even sitting behind the curtain whilehe watched at the window. After writing at some length to the Baron he hadno further correspondence that he could distract himself with; he was evenforced once or twice to dip into the theological works. Mrs Gabbon hadevidently "'eard sommat" from Mr Duggs, and treated him to little of hersociety. The boredom became so excessive that he decided he must make amove soon, however rash it was.
The only active step he took, and indeed the only step he saw his way totake, was a call on Dr Twiddel's _locum_. But luck seemed to run deadagainst him. Dr Billson had departed "on his holiday," he was informed,and would not return for three weeks. So Mr Bunker was driven back to hiswindow and the Baron's cigars.
It was the evening of his fourth day in Mrs Gabbon's rooms. He hadfinished a modest dinner and was dealing himself hands at piquet with anold pack of cards, when he heard the rattle of a cab coming up the street.The usual faint flicker of hope rose: the cab stopped below him, theflicker burned brighter, and in an instant he was at the window. He openedthe slats of the blind, and the flicker was aflame. Before the doctor'shouse a four-wheeled cab was standing laden with luggage, and two men weregoing up the steps. He watched the luggage being taken in and the cabdrive away, and then he turned radiantly back to the fire.
"The curtain is up," he said to himself. "What's the first act to be?"
Presently he put on his wide-awake hat and went out for a stroll. Hewalked slowly past the doctor's house, but there was nothing to be seen orheard. Remembering the room at the back, he was not surprised to find nochink of light about the front windows, and thinking it better not to runthe risk of being seen lingering there, he walked on. He was in such goodspirits, and had been cooped up so continually for the last few days, thathe went on and on, and it was not till about a couple of hours had passedthat he approached his rooms again. As he came down the street he wassurprised to see by the light of a lamp that another four-wheeler wasstanding before the doctor's house, also laden with luggage.
Two men jumped in, one after another, and when he had come at his fastestwalk within twenty yards or so, the cabman whipped up and drove rapidlyaway, luggage and men and all.
He looked up and down for a hansom, but there were none to be seen. For afew yards he set off at a run in pursuit, and then, finding that the horsewas being driven at a great rate, and remembering the paucity of straycabs in the quiet streets and roads round about, he stopped and consideredthe question.
"After all," he reflected, "it may not have been Dr Twiddel who droveaway; in fact, if it was he who arrived in the first cab, it's any oddsagainst it. Pooh! It can't be. Still, it's a curious thing if two cabsloaded with luggage came to the house in the same evening, and one droveaway without unlading."
With his spirits a little damped in spite of his philosophy, he went backto his rooms.
In the morning the consulting-room blinds were still down, and the houselooked as deserted as ever.
He waited till lunch, and then he went out boldly and pulled the doctor'sbell. The same little maid appeared, but she evidently did not recognisethe fashionable patient who disappeared so mysteriously in thedemure-looking clergyman at the door.
"Is Dr Twiddel at home?"
"No, sir, he ain't back yet."
"He hasn't been back?"
"No, sir."
Mr Bunker looked at her keenly, and then said to himself, "She is lying."
He thought he would try a chance shot.
"But he was expected home last night, I believe."
The maid looked a little staggered.
"He ain't been," she replied.
"I happen to have heard that he called here," he hazarded again.
This time she was evidently put about.
"He ain't been here--as I knows of."
He slipped half-a-crown into her hand.
"Think again," he said, in his most winning accents.
The poor little maid was obviously in a dilemma.
"Do you want him particular, sir?"
"Particularly."
She fidgeted a little.
"He told me," he pursued, "that he might look in at his rooms last night.He left no message for me?"
"What name, sir?"
"Mr Butler."
"No, sir."
"Then, my dear," said Mr Bunker, with his most insinuating smile, "he washere for a little, you can't deny?"
At the maid's embarrassed glance down his long coat, he suddenly realisedthat there was perhaps a distinction between lay and clerical smiles.
"He might have just looked in, sir," she admitted.
"But he didn't want it known?"
"No, sir."
"Quite right, I advised him not to, and you did very well not to tell meat first."
He smiled approvingly and made a pretence of turning away.
"Oh, by the way," he added, stopping as if struck by an after-thought, "Ishe still in town? He promised to leave word for me, but he has evidentlyforgotten."
"I don't know, sir; 'e didn't say."
"What? He left _no_ word at all?"
"No, sir."
Mr Bunker held out another half-crown.
"It's truth, sir," said the maid, drawing back; "we don't know where 'eis."
"Take it, all the same; you have been very discreet. You have no idea?"
The maid hesitated.
"I _did_ 'ear Mr Welsh say something about lookin' for rooms," sheallowed.
"In London?"
"I expect so, sir; but 'e didn't say no more."
"Mr Welsh is the friend who came with him, of course?"
"Yes, sir."
"Thanks," said Mr Bunker. "By the way, Dr Twiddel might not like yourtelling this even to a friend, so you needn't say I called, I'll tell himmyself when I see him, and I won't give you away."
He smiled benignly, and the little maid thanked him quite gratefully.
"Evidently," he thought as he went away, "I was meant for something in thedetective line."
He returned to his rooms to meditate, and the longer he thought the morepuzzled he became, and yet the more convinced that he had taken up athread that must lead him somewhere.
"As for my plan of action," he considered, "I see nothing better for itthan staying where I am--and watching. This mysterious doctor must surelysteal back some night. Now and then I might go round the town and try acast in the likeliest bars--oh, hang me, though! I forgot I was aclergyman."
That night he had a welcome distraction in the shape of a letter from theBaron. It was written from Brierley Park, in the Baron's best pointedGerman hand, and it ran thus--
"MY DEAR BUNKER,--I was greatly more delighted than I am able to express toyou from the amusing correspondence you addressed me. How glad I am, I canassure you, that you are still in safety and comfort. Remember, my dearfriend, to call for me when need arises, although I do think you can guardyourself as well as most alone.
"This leaves me happy and healthful, and in utmost prosperity with thekind Sir Richard and his charming Lady. You English certainly know wellhow to cause time to pass with mirth. About instruction I say less!
"They have talked of you here. I laugh and keep my tongue when they wonderwho he is and whither gone away. Now that anger is passed and they see Imyself enjoy the joke, they say, and especially do
the ladies, (Youhumbug, Bunker!) 'How charming was the imitation, Baron!' You can indeedwin the hearts, if wishful so. The Lady Grillyer and her unexpressabledaughter I have often seen. To-day they come here for two nights. I didsuggest it to Lady Brierley, and I fear she did suspect the condition ofmy heart; but she charmingly smiled, she asked them, and they come!
"The Countess, I fear, does not now love you much, my friend; but then sheknows not the truth. The Lady Alicia is strangely silent on the matter ofMr Bunker, but in time she also doubtless will forgive. (At this Mr Bunkersmiled in some amusement.)
"When they leave Brierley I also shall take my departure on the followingday, that is in three days. Therefore write hastily, Bunker, and name theplace and hour where we shall meet again and dine festively. I expect amost reverent clergyman and much instructive discourse. Ah, humbug!--Thinealways,
RUDOLPH VON BLITZENBERG."
"_P.S._--She is sometimes more kind and sometimes so distant. Ah, I knownot what to surmise! But to-morrow or the next my fate will be decided.Give me of your prayers, my reverent friend!
R. VON B."
"Dear old Baron!" said Mr Bunker. "Well, I've at least a dinner to lookforward to."