Part 18 (1/2)
”Doesn't matter what it means,” she said sharply, ”so long as you've done nothing wrong. Pull yourself together, Mr. Langham. Why don't you knock off the drink, and be a man?”
”I'll go and get some now.”
”It will do you no good. You've been in the habit of taking it when you didn't need it, and you've spoilt it as a remedy. Stay here for a while, and calm yourself.”
”Bad enough,” he complained, ”when living people begin to track you about, but when the others start doing it--!” He s.h.i.+vered. Gertie went to the parlour, and asked her aunt to make some coffee.
”Has Lady Dougla.s.s gone away yet?”
”Now why, apropos of nothing, should you mention her name?”
”You never did have much sense about you, and now you seem to have none at all. Concentrate your mind. Think! What was the question I put to you?” He admitted he could not recall it, and she repeated the inquiry.
”Leaves early to-morrow morning,” he answered; ”that is partly why I have come up to town. I don't want to see her again before she goes.”
Jim Langham rested elbows on the counter, and covered eyes with his hands. ”Have you ever,” he asked, ”in the course of your existence, met with a bigger fool than me?”
”To be quite candid,” said Gertie, ”I don't think I have.”
She fetched the cup from the back room, and brought it to him. He sipped at the hot beverage, and appeared to recover.
”Do you mind if I smoke?” he asked courteously.
She laughed. ”This is half a tobacconist's shop!”
”Quite so,” remarked Jim Langham, taking a cigar from his case. ”I say,” he went on confidentially, taking the movable gas jet, ”do you know anything about the Argentine?”
”Mr. Trew might tell you something about it if he were here. I don't take any interest in horse-racing.”
”It's a place in South America,” he said. ”I've an idea of getting out there, and making a fresh start. But I'm in the state of mind that prevents me from knowing how to set about it. It would be a great kindness on your part to give me some a.s.sistance.”
”I want all the money I've saved up.”
He placed his hand in his waistcoat pocket and pulled out sovereigns.
Gertie, taking a newspaper, turned the pages to find the s.h.i.+pping advertis.e.m.e.nts.
”'The R. M. S. P.,'” she read. ”I thought that meant you had to reply to an invitation. Oh, I see. Royal Mail Steam Packet. Here's the address. There's a boat leaving to-morrow. Would you like to catch that?”
”The earlier the better,” he cried. ”I must get away at once. Now, who can do it all?”
A lad came for a packet of cigarettes, and, as Gertie served him, Mr.
Trew entered the doorway; his cheerful salutation caused Jim Langham to start. Trew announced, joyously, that he was up to the neck in trouble; for failing to see a young constable's warning in Oxford Street, he had been suspended from duty for a period of three days.
”As I told him, if a driver took notice of all the baby hands held up, why the 'bus would never reach Victoria. Howsomever, here I am; my own master for a time, and ready to make myself generally useless. What about a half-day excursion to Brighton to-morrow, little missy?”
”This, Mr. Trew, is Mr. Langham.”
”I don't get on over and above first cla.s.s,” he said, ”with a certain relative of yours, sir, but I never met a family yet that was all alike. Some white sheep in every flock.”
Gertie explained Jim Langham's requirements, and Trew, placing his hat upon the counter, and admitting himself to be something of an authority on matters connected with the sea, brought his best intelligence to bear upon the subject. It was too late, he decided, to go down that evening to the steams.h.i.+p office, but a telegram might be sent, asking for a berth to be reserved, and Mr. Langham could go to the docks in the morning.