Part 43 (2/2)

”Found who?”

”Your relation, sir; the little boy--I mean gurl.”

”No, I have found neither the boy nor the girl,” returned the lodger sharply. ”Haven't even begun to look for them yet.”

”Oh! beg parding, sir, I didn't know there was _two_ of 'em.”

”Neither are there. There's only one. Fetch me some hot water, Mrs b.u.t.t, your tea is _too_ good. I never take it strong.”

The landlady retired, and, on returning with the water, found her lodger so deep in a newspaper that she did not venture to interrupt him.

Tea over, Charlie locked his door and clothed himself in his late purchase, which fitted him fairly well, considering that he had measured it only by eye. Putting on the billyc.o.c.k, and tying the green cotton kerchief loosely round his neck to hide his s.h.i.+rt, he stepped in front of the looking-gla.s.s above the mantelpiece.

At sight of himself he was prepared to be amused, but he had not expected to be shocked! Yet shocked he certainly was, for the transformation was so complete that it suddenly revealed to him something of the depth of degradation to which he _might_ fall--to which many a man as good as himself, if not better, _had_ fallen. Then amus.e.m.e.nt rose within him, for he was the very beau-ideal of a typical burglar, or a prize-fighter: big, square-shouldered, deep-chested, large-chinned. The only parts that did not quite correspond to the type were his straight, well-formed nose and his clear blue eyes, but these defects were put right by slightly drooping his eyelids, pus.h.i.+ng his billyc.o.c.k a little back on his head, and drawing a lock of hair in a drunken fas.h.i.+on over his forehead.

Suddenly an idea occurred to him. Slipping his latchkey into his pocket he went out of the house and closed the door softly. Then he rang the bell.

”Is the gen'leman at 'ome?” he asked of Mrs b.u.t.t, in a gruff, hoa.r.s.e voice, as if still engaged in a struggle with a bad cold.

”What gentleman?” asked Mrs b.u.t.t eyeing him suspiciously.

”W'y, the gen'leman as sent for me to give 'im boxin' lessons--Buck or Book, or some sitch name.”

”Brooke, you mean,” said Mrs b.u.t.t still suspicious, and interposing her solid person in the doorway.

”Ay, that's the cove--the gen'leman I mean came here this arternoon to lodge wi' a Missis b.u.t.t or Brute, or suthin' o' that sort--air you Mrs Brute?”

”_Certainly_ not,” answered the landlady, with indignation; ”but I'm Mrs b.u.t.t.”

”Well, it's all the same. I ax yer parding for the mistake, but there's sitch a mixin' up o' Brutes an' Brookes, an' b.u.t.ts an' Bucks, that it comes hard o' a man o' no edication to speak of to take it all in. This gen'leman, Mr Brute, 'e said if 'e was hout w'en I called I was to wait, an' say you was to make tea for two, an' 'ave it laid in the bedroom as 'e'd require the parlour for the mill.”

The man's evident knowledge of her lodger's affairs, and his gross stupidity, disarmed Mrs b.u.t.t. She would have laughed at his last speech if it had not been for the astounding conclusion. Tea in the bedroom and a mill in the parlour the first night was a degree of eccentricity she had not even conceived of.

”Come in, then, young man,” she said, making way. ”You'll find Mr Brooke in the parlour at his tea.”

The prize-fighter stepped quickly along the dark pa.s.sage into the parlour, and while the somewhat sluggish Mrs b.u.t.t was closing the door she overheard her lodger exclaim--

”Ha! Jem Mace, this is good of you--very good of you--to come so promptly. Mrs b.u.t.t,” shouting at the parlour door, ”another cup and plate for Mr Mace, and--and bring the _ham_!”

”The 'am!” repeated Mrs b.u.t.t softly to herself, as she gazed in perplexity round her little kitchen, ”_did_ 'e order a 'am?”

Unable to solve the riddle she gave it up and carried in the cup and saucer and plate.

”I beg your parding, sir, you mentioned a 'am,” she began, but stopped abruptly on seeing no one there but the prize-fighter standing before the fire in a free-and-easy manner with his hands in his breeches pockets.

The light of the street-lamps had very imperfectly revealed the person of Jem Mace. Now that Mrs b.u.t.t saw him slouching in all his native hideousness against her mantelpiece in the full blaze of a paraffin lamp, she inwardly congratulated herself that Mr Brooke was such a big strong man--almost a match, she thought, for Mace!

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