Part 8 (1/2)
”An' good 'olesome grub?” suggested Croucher with another slant of his goggle eyes.
”And plenty of square meals. Perhaps not so square as this morning's, because you won't have any exercise; but that sort of thing.”
”A little drop of anythin' to drink, doctor?”
”With your meals, and in moderation, by all means; but don't ask me for nightcaps, and don't try to smuggle anything in.”
”I wouldn't do such a thing!” exclaimed Croucher, with virtuous decision. ”Doctor, I'm your man, and ready to turn in as soon as ever you like.”
And a shabby waistcoat hung unb.u.t.toned at the swoop of a horned thumb.
”One moment,” said the doctor. ”If you are really coming to me, and coming to stay, I am to telephone to my tailor, who will take some little time getting here.”
”Your tailor!” cried Croucher. ”Where the dooce does _'e_ come in?”
”You may well ask!” replied Dollar with involuntary candor. ”That friend in need, who was the first to a.s.sert your innocence, and to whom you owe more than you will ever know, is anxious to give you a fresh start in life, and an entire new outfit in which to make it.”
”Well! I call that 'andsome,” declared Alfred Croucher, for once without reserve. ”I won't arst 'oo it is no more, but I shall live in 'opes o'
findin' out an' sayin' thanky like a man. Not but wot it's right,” he added after all, ”for them as is rich to 'old out an 'elpin' 'and to them as is pore and 'ave been tret like I've been, through no fault o'
their own. But it ain't everybody as sees it like that, an' it makes you think better o' the world when you strike them as does.”
”I agree,” said the doctor, in a tone entirely lost on his expansive patient.
”I'm griteful to 'im,” that worthy went so far as to a.s.sert, ”and to you too, sir, if it comes to that.”
Doctor Dollar took the opportunity of being no less explicit in his turn.
”There's no reason why it should come to that, Croucher, I a.s.sure you. I can not too strongly impress on you that anything I do for you is by business arrangement with the friend who takes this extraordinary interest in your career.”
In this statement, but especially in its relative clause, there was a note of sheer resentment which recalled other notes and other clauses to the retentive memory of Mr. Croucher. In a flash the lot had fused in his suspicious mind, and so visibly that Dollar was relieved to find himself the object of suspicion.
”You talk as if it went against your grain,” said Croucher, with a growl and a show of growler's teeth. ”I 'ope you don't think I went an' done it all the time, do yer?”
”I don't follow you, Croucher.”
”I mean the big job--the first job--the one I very near swung for!”
muttered the fellow, hoa.r.s.e and hot with evident emotion.
”No; indeed I don't,” responded the doctor, in an unexpected voice; and he sighed, as though to think that his sentiments toward his patient should have been so misunderstood.
Such at least was the patient's final interpretation of all that was unsatisfactory in the doctor's manner; and if a doubt still rankled in his mind, it was but the crumpled petal in what was almost literally a bed of roses. Bed and room alike were the most luxurious in which Alfred Croucher had ever lain; after prison they were as the seventh heaven after the most excruciating circle of Dante's Inferno. He stretched his great limbs in peace ineffable, fell asleep dreaming of the fine flash suits for which they had been duly measured, and was never decently awake until the evening.
A substantial tea, when he did wake up, was the least they could provide after neglecting to rouse a man for his midday meal; but a distinct grievance on that score was forgot in the appet.i.te that accrued for dinner, and the infinitely tactful choice of the eventful viands. Steak and onions was the strong act of a romantic drama after the very heart of this transpontine rough. If he had been shown a bill of fare, Alfred Croucher would have chosen steak and onions, with Welsh rarebit to follow; and Welsh rarebit did follow, as if by magic. There was rather less to be said for the drink; the patient could have done with a longer and a stronger draught. But it was a drop of good stuff, if Mr. Croucher was any judge; and he decided not to create a possibly prejudicial impression by complaints of quality or quant.i.ty.
”You done me top-'ole,” he murmured, rolling his bulbs of eyes when the doctor stood over him once more. ”Top-'ole, you 'ave, and no error. I never struck a nicer bit o' fillet. Saucy gla.s.s o' wine that, too. Not that I was ever much 'and at the liquor, but there are times w'en it seems to do yer good.”
”You shall continue to take it, medicinally,” returned Dollar, gravely; ”but don't count on the type of fare you've had to-day. Three meals in future, but rather lighter ones. The first day was different, I tried to put myself in your place, and am glad I seem to have succeeded on the whole. But remember you are here to lie low, and that doesn't do on fighting food. Sufficient for the day, Croucher! Here are some flowers from the friend who works by stealth, and these are the weeds I promised you this morning. You might do worse than judge the givers by their gifts.”
It was perhaps as well that Alfred Croucher did not pause to puzzle out that saying, for the rare blooms were as pearls before his kindred of the sty, but the box of Upmanns as a trough of offal. One was ignited without delay; yet it was hardly a matter of hours before the chartered sluggard was blissfully asleep once more, his door locked and bolted on principle, and a red fire dying in the grate.