Light Freights

by W. W. Jacobs

  The "Terrace," consisting of eight gaunt houses, faced the sea, whilethe back rooms commanded a view of the ancient little town some halfmile distant. The beach, a waste of shingle, was desolate and bareexcept for a ruined bathing machine and a few pieces of linen drying inthe winter sunshine. In the offing tiny steamers left a trail of smoke,while sailing-craft, their canvas glistening in the sun, slowly meltedfrom the sight. On all these things the "Terrace" turned a stolid eye,and, counting up its gains of the previous season, wondered whether itcould hold on to the next. It was a discontented "Terrace," and hadbecome prematurely soured by a Board which refused them a pier, aband-stand, and illuminated gardens.

  From the front windows of the third storey of No. 1 Mrs. Cox, gazing outto sea, sighed softly.

  The season had been a bad one, and Mr. Cox had been even moretroublesome than usual owing to tightness in the money market and theavowed preference of local publicans for cash transactions to assets inchalk and slate. In Mr. Cox's memory there never had been such adrought, and his crop of patience was nearly exhausted.

  He had in his earlier days attempted to do a little work, but his healthhad suffered so much that his wife had become alarmed for his safety.Work invariably brought on a cough, and as he came from a family whoselungs had formed the staple conversation of their lives, he had beencompelled to abandon it, and at last it came to be understood that if hewould only consent to amuse himself, and not get into trouble, nothingmore would be expected of him. It was not much of a life for a man ofspirit, and at times it became so unbearable that Mr. Cox woulddisappear for days together in search of work, returning unsuccessfulafter many days with nerves shattered in the pursuit.

  Mrs. Cox's meditations were disturbed by a knock at the front door, and,the servants having been discharged for the season, she hurrieddownstairs to open it, not without a hope of belated lodgers--invalidsin search of an east wind. A stout, middle-aged woman in widow's weedsstood on the door-step.

  "Glad to see you, my dear," said the visitor, kissing her loudly.

  Mrs. Cox gave her a subdued caress in return, not from any lack offeeling, but because she did everything in a quiet and spiritlessfashion.

  "I've got my Uncle Joseph from London staying with us," continued thevisitor, following her into the hall, "so I just got into the train andbrought him down for a blow at the sea."

  A question on Mrs. Cox's lips died away as a very small man who had beenhidden by his niece came into sight.

  "My Uncle Joseph," said Mrs. Berry; "Mr. Joseph Piper," she added.

  Mr. Piper shook hands, and after a performance on the door-mat,protracted by reason of a festoon of hemp, followed his hostess into thefaded drawing-room.

  "And Mr. Cox?" inquired Mrs. Berry, in a cold voice.

  Mrs. Cox shook her head. "He's been away this last three days," shesaid, flushing slightly.

  "Looking for work?" suggested the visitor.

  Mrs. Cox nodded, and, placing the tips of her fingers together, fidgetedgently.

  "Well, I hope he finds it," said Mrs. Berry, with more venom than theremark seemed to require. "Why, where's your marble clock?"

  Mrs. Cox coughed. "It's being mended," she said, confusedly.

  Mrs. Berry eyed her anxiously. "Don't mind him, my dear," she said, witha jerk of her head in the direction of Mr. Piper, "he's nobody. Wouldn'tyou like to go out on the beach a little while, uncle?"

  "No," said Mr. Piper.

  "I suppose Mr. Cox took the clock for company," remarked Mrs. Berry,after a hostile stare at her relative.

  Mrs. Cox sighed and shook her head. It was no use pretending with Mrs.Berry.

  "He'll pawn the clock and anything else he can lay his hands on, andwhen he's drunk it up come home to be made a fuss of," continued Mrs.Berry, heatedly; "that's you men."

  Her glance was so fiery that Mr. Joseph Piper was unable to allow theremark to pass unchallenged.

  "I never pawned a clock," he said, stroking his little grey head.

  "That's a lot to boast of, isn't it?" demanded his niece; "if I hadn'tgot anything better than that to boast of I wouldn't boast at all."

  Mr. Piper said that he was not boasting.

  "It'll go on like this, my dear, till you're ruined," said thesympathetic Mrs. Berry, turning to her friend again; "what'll you dothen?"

  "Yes, I know," said Mrs. Cox. "I've had a bad season, too, and I'm soanxious about him in spite of it all. I can't sleep at nights forfearing that he's in some trouble. I'm sure I laid awake half last nightcrying."

  Mrs. Berry sniffed loudly, and Mr. Piper making a remark in a low voice,turned on him with ferocity.

  "What did you say?" she demanded.

  "I said it does her credit," said Mr. Piper, firmly.

  "I might have known it was nonsense," retorted his niece, hotly. "Can'tyou get him to take the pledge, Mary?"

  "I couldn't insult him like that," said Mrs. Cox, with a shiver; "youdon't know his pride. He never admits that he drinks; he says that heonly takes a little for his indigestion. He'd never forgive me. When hepawns the things he pretends that somebody has stolen them, and the wayhe goes on at me for my carelessness is alarming. He gets worked up tosuch a pitch that sometimes I almost think he believes it himself."

  "Rubbish," said Mrs. Berry, tartly, "you're too easy with him."

  Mrs. Cox sighed, and, leaving the room, returned with a bottle of winewhich was port to the look and red-currant to the taste, and a seedcakeof formidable appearance. The visitors attacked these refreshmentsmildly, Mr. Piper sipping his wine with an obtrusive carefulness whichhis niece rightly regarded as a reflection upon her friend'shospitality.

  "What Cox wants is a shock," she said; "you've dropped some crumbs onthe carpet, uncle."

  Mr. Piper apologised and said he had got his eye on them, and would pickthem up when he had finished and pick up his niece's at the same time toprevent her stooping. Mrs. Berry, in an aside to Mrs. Cox, said that herUncle Joseph's tongue had got itself disliked on both sides of thefamily.

  "And I'd give him one," said Mrs. Berry, returning again to the subjectof Mr. Cox and shocks. "He has a gentleman's life of it here, and hewould look rather silly if you were sold up and he had to do somethingfor his living."

  "It's putting away the things that is so bad," said Mrs. Cox, shakingher head; "that clock won't last him out, I know; he'll come back andtake some of the other things. Every spring I have to go through hispockets for the tickets and get the things out again, and I mustn't saya word for fear of hurting his feelings. If I do he goes off again."

  "If I were you," said Mrs. Berry, emphatically, "I'd get behind with therent or something and have the brokers in. He'd look rather astonishedif he came home and saw a broker's man sitting in a chair--"

  "He'd look more astonished if he saw him sitting in a flower-pot,"suggested the caustic Mr. Piper.

  "I couldn't do that," said Mrs. Cox. "I couldn't stand the disgrace,even though I knew I could pay him out. As it is, Cox is always settinghis family above mine."

  Mrs. Berry, without ceasing to stare Mr. Piper out of countenance, shookher head, and, folding her arms, again stated her opinion that Mr. Coxwanted a shock, and expressed a great yearning to be the humble means ofgiving him one.

  "If you can't have the brokers in, get somebody to pretend to be one,"she said, sharply; "that would prevent him pawning any more things, atany rate. Why wouldn't he do?" she added, nodding at her uncle.

  Anxiety on Mrs. Cox's face was exaggerated on that of Mr. Piper.

  "Let uncle pretend to be a broker's man in for the rent," continued theexcitable lady, rapidly. "When Mr. Cox turns up after his spree, tellhim what his doings have brought you to, and say you'll have to go tothe workhouse."

  "I look like a broker's man, don't I?" said Mr. Piper, in a voice morethan tinged with sarcasm.

  "Yes," said his niece, "that's what put it into my head."

  "It's very kind of you, dear, and very kind of Mr. Piper," said Mrs.Cox, "but I
couldn't think of it, I really couldn't."

  "Uncle would be delighted," said Mrs. Berry, with a wilful blinking ofplain facts. "He's got nothing better to do; it's a nice house and goodfood, and he could sit at the open window and sniff at the sea all daylong."

  Mr. Piper sniffed even as she spoke, but not at the sea.

  "And I'll come for him the day after to-morrow," said Mrs. Berry.

  It was the old story of the stronger will: Mrs. Cox after a feeble standgave way altogether, and Mr. Piper's objections were demolished beforehe had given them full utterance. Mrs. Berry went off alone afterdinner, secretly glad to have got rid of Mr. Piper, who was making aself-invited stay at her house of indefinite duration; and Mr. Piper, inhis new role of broker's man, essayed the part with as much help as aclay pipe and a pint of beer could afford him.

  That day and the following he spent amid the faded grandeurs of thedrawing-room, gazing longingly at the wide expanse of beach and thetumbling sea beyond. The house was almost uncanily quiet, an occasionaltinkle of metal or crash of china from the basement giving the onlyindication of the industrious Mrs. Cox; but on the day after the quietof the house was broken by the return of its master, whose annoyance,when he found the drawing-room clock stolen and a man in possession, wasalarming in its vehemence. He lectured his wife severely on hermismanagement, and after some hesitation announced his intention ofgoing through her books. Mrs. Cox gave them to him, and, armed with penand ink and four square inches of pink blotting-paper, he performedfeats of balancing which made him a very Blondin of finance.

  "I shall have to get something to do," he said, gloomily, laying downhis pen.

  "Yes, dear," said his wife.

  Mr. Cox leaned back in his chair and, wiping his pen on theblotting-paper, gazed in a speculative fashion round the room. "Have youany money?" he inquired.

  For reply his wife rummaged in her pocket and after a lengthy searchproduced a bunch of keys, a thimble, a needle-case, twopocket-handkerchiefs, and a halfpenny. She put this last on the table,and Mr. Cox, whose temper had been mounting steadily, threw it to theother end of the room.

  "I can't help it," said Mrs. Cox, wiping her eyes. "I'm sure I've doneall I could to keep a home together. I can't even raise money onanything."

  Mr. Cox, who had been glancing round the room again, looked up sharply.

  "Why not?" he inquired.

  "The broker's man," said Mrs. Cox, nervously; "he's made an inventory ofeverything, and he holds us responsible."

  Mr. Cox leaned back in his chair. "This is a pretty state of things," heblurted, wildly. "Here have I been walking my legs off looking for work,any work so long as it's honest labour, and I come back to find abroker's man sitting in my own house and drinking up my beer."

  He rose and walked up and down the room, and Mrs. Cox, whose nerves werehardly equal to the occasion, slipped on her bonnet and announced herintention of trying to obtain a few necessaries on credit. Her husbandwaited in indignant silence until he heard the front door close behindher, and then stole softly upstairs to have a look at the fell destroyerof his domestic happiness.

  Mr. Piper, who was already very tired of his imprisonment, looked upcuriously as he heard the door pushed open, and discovered an elderlygentleman with an appearance of great stateliness staring at him. In theordinary way he was one of the meekest of men, but the insolence of thisstare was outrageous. Mr. Piper, opening his mild blue eyes wide, staredback. Whereupon Mr. Cox, fumbling in his vest pocket, found a pair offolders, and putting them astride his nose, gazed at the pseudo-broker'sman with crushing effect.

  "What do you want here?" he asked, at length. "Are you the father of oneof the servants?"

  "I'm the father of all the servants in the house," said Mr. Piper,sweetly.

  "Don't answer me, sir," said Mr. Cox, with much pomposity; "you're aneyesore to an honest man, a vulture, a harpy."

  Mr. Piper pondered.

  "How do you know what's an eyesore to an honest man?" he asked, atlength.

  Mr. Cox smiled scornfully.

  "Where is your warrant or order, or whatever you call it?" he demanded.

  "I've shown it to Mrs. Cox," said Mr. Piper.

  "Show it to me," said the other.

  "I've complied with the law by showing it once," said Mr. Piper,bluffing, "and I'm not going to show it again."

  Mr. Cox stared at him disdainfully, beginning at his little sleek greyhead and travelling slowly downwards to his untidy boots and then backagain. He repeated this several times, until Mr. Piper, unable to bearit patiently, began to eye him in the same fashion.

  "What are you looking at, vulture?" demanded the incensed Mr. Cox.

  "Three spots o' grease on a dirty weskit," replied Mr. Piper, readily,"a pair o' bow legs in a pair o' somebody else's trousers, and a shabbycoat wore under the right arm, with carrying off"--he paused a moment asthough to make sure--"with carrying off of a drawing-room clock."

  He regretted this retort almost before he had finished it, and rose tohis feet with a faint cry of alarm as the heated Mr. Cox first lockedthe door and put the key in his pocket and then threw up the window.

  "Vulture!" he cried, in a terrible voice.

  "Yes, sir," said the trembling Mr. Piper.

  Mr. Cox waved his hand towards the window.

  "Fly," he said, briefly.

  Mr. Piper tried to form his white lips into a smile, and his kneestrembled beneath him.

  "Did you hear what I said?" demanded Mr. Cox. "What are you waiting for?If you don't fly out of the window I'll throw you out."

  "Don't touch me," screamed Mr. Piper, retreating behind a table, "it'sall a mistake. All a joke. I'm not a broker's man. Ha! ha!"

  "Eh?" said the other; "not a broker's man? What are you, then?"

  In eager, trembling tones Mr. Piper told him, and, gathering confidenceas he proceeded, related the conversation which had led up to hisimposture. Mr. Cox listened in a dazed fashion, and as he concludedthrew himself into a chair, and gave way to a terrible outburst ofgrief.

  "The way I've worked for that woman," he said, brokenly, "to think itshould come to this! The deceit of the thing; the wickedness of it. Myheart is broken; I shall never be the same man again--never!"

  Mr. Piper made a sympathetic noise.

  "It's been very unpleasant for me," he said, "but my niece is somasterful."

  "I don't blame you," said Mr. Cox, kindly; "shake hands."

  They shook hands solemnly, and Mr. Piper, muttering something about adraught, closed the window.

  "You might have been killed in trying to jump out of that window," saidMr. Cox; "fancy the feelings of those two deceitful women then."

  "Fancy my feelings!" said Mr. Piper, with a shudder. "Playing with fire,that's what I call it. My niece is coming this afternoon; it would serveher right if you gave her a fright by telling her you had killed me.Perhaps it would be a lesson to her not to be so officious."

  "It would serve 'em both right," agreed Mr. Cox; "only Mrs. Berry mightsend for the police."

  "I never thought of that," said Mr. Piper, fondling his chin.

  "I might frighten my wife," mused the amiable Mr. Cox; "it would be alesson to her not to be deceitful again. And, by Jove, I'll get somemoney from her to escape with; I know she's got some, and if she hasn'tshe will have in a day or two. There's a little pub at Newstead, eightmiles from here, where we could be as happy as fighting cocks with afiver or two. And while we're there enjoying ourselves my wife'll behalf out of her mind trying to account for your disappearance to Mrs.Berry."

  "It sounds all right," said Mr. Piper, cautiously, "but she won'tbelieve you. You don't look wild enough to have killed anybody."

  "I'll look wild enough when the time comes," said the other, nodding."You get on to the White Horse at Newstead and wait for me. I'll let youout at the back way. Come along."

  "But you said it was eight miles," said Mr. Piper.

  "Eight miles easy walking," rejoined Mr. Cox. "Or there's a trai
n atthree o'clock. There's a sign-post at the corner there, and if you don'thurry I shall be able to catch you up. Good-bye."

  He patted the hesitating Mr. Piper on the back, and letting him outthrough the garden, indicated the road. Then he returned to thedrawing-room, and carefully rumpling his hair, tore his collar from thestud, overturned a couple of chairs and a small table, and sat down towait as patiently as he could for the return of his wife.

  He waited about twenty minutes, and then he heard a key turn in the doorbelow and his wife's footsteps slowly mounting the stairs. By the timeshe reached the drawing-room his tableau was complete, and she fell backwith a faint shriek at the frenzied figure which met her eyes.

  "Hush," said the tragedian, putting his finger to his lips.

  "Henry, what is it?" cried Mrs. Cox. "What is the matter?"

  "The broker's man," said her husband, in a thrilling whisper. "We hadwords--he struck me. In a fit of fury I--I--choked him."

  "Much?" inquired the bewildered woman.

  "Much?" repeated Mr. Cox, frantically. "I've killed him and hidden thebody. Now I must escape and fly the country."

  The bewilderment on Mrs. Cox's face increased; she was trying toreconcile her husband's statement with a vision of a trim little figurewhich she had seen ten minutes before with its head tilted backwardsstudying the sign-post, and which she was now quite certain was Mr.Piper.

  "Are you sure he's dead?" she inquired.

  "Dead as a door nail," replied Mr. Cox, promptly. "I'd no idea he wassuch a delicate little man. What am I to do? Every moment adds to mydanger. I must fly. How much money have you got?"

  The question explained everything. Mrs. Cox closed her lips with a snapand shook her head.

  "Don't play the fool," said her husband, wildly; "my neck's in danger."

  "I haven't got anything," asseverated Mrs. Cox. "It's no good lookinglike that, Henry, I can't make money."

  Mr. Cox's reply was interrupted by a loud knock at the hall door, whichhe was pleased to associate with the police. It gave him a fineopportunity for melodrama, in the midst of which his wife, rightlyguessing that Mrs. Berry had returned according to arrangement, went tothe door to admit her. The visitor was only busy two minutes on thedoor-mat, but in that time Mrs. Cox was able in low whispers to appriseher of the state of affairs.

  "That's my uncle all over," said Mrs. Berry, fiercely; "that's just themean trick I should have expected of him. You leave 'em to me, my dear."

  She followed her friend into the drawing-room, and having shaken handswith Mr. Cox, drew her handkerchief from her pocket and applied it toher eyes.

  "She's told me all about it," she said, nodding at Mrs. Cox, "and it'sworse than you think, much worse. It isn't a broker's man--it's my pooruncle, Joseph Piper."

  "Your uncle!" repeated Mr. Cox, reeling back; "the broker's man youruncle?"

  Mrs. Berry sniffed. "It was a little joke on our part," she admitted,sinking into a chair and holding her handkerchief to her face. "Pooruncle; but I dare say he's happier where he is."

  With its head tilted back, studyin Mr. Cox wiped his brow, and then,leaning his elbow on the mantelpiece, stared at her in well-simulatedamazement.

  "See what your joking has led to," he said, at last. "I have got to be awanderer over the face of the earth, all on account of your jokes."

  "It was an accident," murmured Mrs. Berry, "and nobody knows he washere, and I'm sure, poor dear, he hadn't got much to live for."

  "It's very kind of you to look at it in that way, Susan, I'm sure," saidMrs. Cox.

  "I was never one to make mischief," said Mrs. Berry. "It's no goodcrying over spilt milk. If uncle's killed he's killed, and there's anend of it. But I don't think it's quite safe for Mr. Cox to stay here."

  "Just what I say," said that gentleman, eagerly; "but I've got nomoney."

  "You get away," said Mrs. Berry, with a warning glance at her friend,and nodding to emphasise her words; "leave us some address to write to,and we must try and scrape twenty or thirty pounds to send you."

  "Thirty?" said Mr. Cox, hardly able to believe his ears.

  Mrs. Berry nodded. "You'll have to make that do to go on with," shesaid, pondering. "'And as soon as yoa get it you had better get as faraway as possible before poor uncl'e is discovered. Where are we to sendthe money?"

  Mr. Cox affected to consider.

  "The White Horse, Newstead," he said at length, in a whisper; "betterwrite it down."

  Mrs. Berry obeyed; and this business being completed, Mr. Cox, aftertrying in vain to obtain a shilling or two cash in hand, bade them apathetic farewell and went off down the path, for some reason best knownto himself, on tiptoe.

  For the first two days Messrs. Cox and Piper waited with exemplarypatience for the remittance, the demands of the landlord, a man ofcoarse fibre, being met in the meantime by the latter gentleman from hisown slender resources. They were both reasonable men, and knew fromexperience the difficulty of raising money at short notice; but on thefourth day, their funds being nearly exhausted, an urgent telegram wasdispatched to Mrs. Cox.

  Mr. Cox was alone when the reply came, and Mr. Piper, returning to theinn-parlour, was amazed and distressed at his friend's appearance.

  Twice he had to address him before he seemed to be aware of hispresence, and then Mr. Cox, breathing hard and staring at him strangely,handed him the message.

  "Eh?" said Mr. Piper, in amaze, as he read slowly:"'No--need--send--money--Uncle--Joseph--has--come--back.--Berry,' Whatdoes it mean? Is she mad?"

  Mr. Cox shook his head, and taking the paper from him, held it at arm'slength and regarded it at an angle.

  "How can you be there when you're supposed to be dead?" he said, atlength.

  "How can I be there when I'm here?" rejoined Mr. Piper, no lessreasonably.

  Both gentlemen lapsed into a wondering silence, devoted to the attemptedsolution of their own riddles. Finally Mr. Cox, seized with a brightidea that the telegram had got altered in transmission, went off to thepost-office and dispatched another, which went straight to the heart ofthings:

  "Don't--understand--is--Uncle--Joseph--alive?"

  A reply was brought to the inn-parlour an hour later on. Mr. Cox openedit, gave one glance at it, and then with a suffocating cry handed it tothe other. Mr. Piper took it gingerly, and his eyebrows almostdisappeared as he read:

  "Yes--smoking--in--drawing-room."

  His first strong impression was that it was a case for the PsychicalResearch Society, but this romantic view faded in favour of a simplesolution, propounded by Mr. Cox with much crispness, that Mrs. Berry wasleaving the realms of fact for those of romance. His actual words wereshorter, but the meaning is the same.

  "I'll go home and ask to see you," he said, fiercely; "that'll bringthings to a head, I should think."

  "And she'll say I've gone back to London, perhaps," said Mr. Piper,gifted with sudden clearness of vision. "You can't show her up unlessyou take me with you, and that'll show us up. That's her artfulness;that's Susan all over."

  "She's a wicked, untruthful woman," gasped Mr. Cox.

  "I never did like Susan," said Mr. Piper, with acerbity, "never."

  Mr. Cox said he could easily understand it, and then, as a forlorn hope,sat down and wrote a long letter to his wife, in which, after dwellingat great length on the lamentable circumstances surrounding the suddendemise of Mr. Piper, he bade her thank Mrs. Berry for her well-meantefforts to ease his mind, and asked for the immediate dispatch of themoney promised.

  A reply came the following evening from Mrs. Berry herself. It was along letter, and not only long, but badly written and crossed. It beganwith the weather, asked after Mr. Cox's health, and referred to thewriter's; described with much minuteness a strange headache which hadattacked Mrs. Cox, together with a long list of the remedies prescribedand the effects of each, and wound up in an out-of-the-way corner, in avein of cheery optimism which reduced both readers to the verge ofmadness.

  "Dear Uncle Joseph has
quite recovered, and, in spite of a littlenervousness--he was always rather timid--at meeting you again, hasconsented to go to the White Horse to satisfy you that he is alive. Idare say he will be with you as soon as this letter--perhaps help you toread it."

  Mr. Cox laid the letter down with extreme care, and, coughing gently,glanced in a sheepish fashion at the goggle-eyed Mr. Piper.

  For some time neither of them spoke. Mr. Cox was the first to break thesilence and--when he had finished--Mr. Piper said "Hush."

  "Besides, it does no good," he added.

  "It does me good," said Mr. Cox, recommencing.

  Mr. Piper held up his hand with a startled gesture for silence. Thewords died away on his friend's lips as a familiar voice was heard inthe passage, and the next moment Mrs. Berry entered the room and stoodregarding them.

  "I ran down by the same train to make sure you came, uncle," sheremarked. "How long have you been here?"

  Mr. Piper moistened his lips and gazed wildly at Mr. Cox for guidance.

  "'Bout--'bout five minutes," he stammered.

  "We were so glad dear uncle wasn't hurt much," continued Mrs. Berry,smiling, and shaking her head at Mr. Cox; "but the idea of your buryinghim in the geranium-bed; we haven't got him clean yet."

  Mr. Piper, giving utterance to uncouth noises, quitted the room hastily,but Mr. Cox sat still and stared at her dumbly.

  "Weren't you surprised to see him?" inquired his tormentor.

  "Not after your letter," said Mr. Cox, finding his voice at last, andspeaking with an attempt at chilly dignity. "Nothing could surprise memuch after that."

  Mrs. Berry smiled again.

  "Ah, I've got another little surprise for you," she said, briskly. "Mrs.Cox was so upset at the idea of being alone while you were a wandererover the face of the earth, that she and I have gone into partnership.We have had a proper deed drawn up, so that now there are two of us tolook after things. Eh? What did you say?"

  "I was just thinking," said Mr. Cox.

  SAM'S BOY