Part 25 (1/2)

While Paxton had been endeavouring to collect his scattered senses, so that they might enable him, if possible, to comprehend his situation, the man with the pail had been eyeing him with a curious grin.

Paxton asked himself, as he looked at him, if the man might not be susceptible to the softening influence of a substantial bribe. He decided, at any rate, to see if he had not in his const.i.tution such a thing as a sympathetic spot.

”These ropes are cutting me like knives. If you were to loosen them a bit you would still have me tied as tight as your heart could desire.

Suppose you were to ease them a trifle.”

The fellow shook his head.

”It couldn't be done, not at no price. It's only a-getting of yer used to what's a-coming--it ain't nothing to what yer going to have, lor'

bless yer, no. The Baron, he says to me, says he, 'Tie 'em tight,' he says, 'don't let's 'ave no fooling,' he says. 'So as when the Toff's a-ready to deal with him he'll be in a humbler frame of mind.'”

”The Baron?--the Toff?--who are they?”

”There you are again, a-asking of your questions. If you ask questions I'll give you another dose from this here pail.”

The speaker brandished his pail with a gesture which was ill.u.s.trative of his meaning. Paxton felt, as he regarded him, that he would have given a good round sum to have been able to carry on a conversation with him on terms of something like equality.

”What's your name?”

”What!”

As, almost unconsciously, still another question escaped Mr. Paxton's lips, the fellow, moving forward, brandished his pail at arm's length above his shoulders. Although he expected, momentarily, that the formidable weapon would be brought down with merciless force upon his unprotected face and head, Paxton, looking his a.s.sailant steadily in the eyes, showed no signs of flinching. It was, possibly, this which induced the fellow to change his mind--for change it he apparently did. He brought the pail back slowly to its original position.

”Next time you'll get it. I'm dreadful short of temper, I am--can't stand no crossing. Talk to me about the state of the nation, or the price of coals, or your mother-in-law, and I'm with you, but questions I bar.”

Paxton tried to summon up a smile.

”Under different circ.u.mstances I should be happy to discuss with you the political and other tendencies of the age, but just at present, for conversation on such an exalted plane, the conditions can scarcely be called auspicious.”

Up went the pail once more.

”None of your sauce for me, or you'll get it. Now, what's the matter?”

The matter was that Paxton had closed his eyes and compressed his lips, and that a suggestive pallor had come into his cheeks. The pain of his ligatures was rapidly becoming so excruciating that it was as much as he could do to bear it and keep his senses.

”These ropes of yours cut like knives,” he murmured.

Instead of being moved to pity, the fellow was moved to smile.

”Like another pailful--hot or cold?”

It was a moment or two before Paxton could trust himself to speak.

When he did it was once more with the ghastly semblance of a smile.

”What a pleasant sort of man you seem to be!”

”I am that for certain sure.”

”What would you say to a five-pound note?”