Part 17 (1/2)
But Frank entertained no thoughts of returning to the scene of gaiety he had quitted on its very threshold. Stopping only to put a cigar in his mouth he turned, without a pang, from these ”halls of dazzling light,”
to walk slowly away through a succession of dark streets, like a man in a dream.
”It's waiting for you!” Of course it was; and what a fool had he been not to inquire for his letters at the ”Cauliflower” ere he dressed for dinner. She must have answered his proposal very quickly, he thought; couldn't have taken time to consult papa, nor any one else; must have made up her mind in a moment--women always did. Was this a good omen or not? At each alternate lamp-post he changed his opinion. Here he argued, she had jumped at the offer the instant it was made, loving him so dearly, and being so determined to marry him that it was needless to consult any one else on the subject; ten paces further on, he saw the other side of the question. If she meant to refuse him, it couldn't be done too quickly, and the less said about it the better. Such an answer would, of course, be sent by return of post; and, pre-occupied as he was, he found himself vaguely calculating the many deliveries of that valuable inst.i.tution, speculating whether he could indeed have received her letter at his club, had he called for it so early as half-past seven o'clock.
Revolving this irrelevant consideration in his mind, Helen's beauty and confusion, as he saw her ten minutes ago, rose like a vision before his eyes, and he felt all joy and confidence once more. ”Sure of winning!”
he said out loud, with a puff of smoke into the hot, close night.
”c.o.c.k-sure, my boy, as if you'd got the race in your pocket!”
In two more streets he would reach the ”Cauliflower,” and his heart leaped wildly to think of the dainty white missive, with its delicate superscription, even now awaiting him in the lobby of that caravanserai.
Quickening his pace, the sooner to end suspense, he came in sight of a figure lurching along the pavement some fifty yards ahead, with the gait of a man who, not in the least overcome by wine, is yet enough under its influence to walk more leisurely and with a more pretentious swing than usual.
He saw them by dozens every night of his life, and would have taken little notice of this convivial bird returning to roost, but that his attention was aroused by the scrutinising manner in which two men, by whom he was himself overtaken at a quick walk, looked under the brim of his hat as they pa.s.sed by. Returning their stare, he observed they were an ill-favoured couple enough, and that one shook his head as if dissatisfied, crossing the street forthwith to join a third figure that stole out of the shade cast by the opposite houses. Whatever might be their object, all three seemed now to join eagerly in chase. Frank slackened sail to observe their movements, and was soon satisfied they were d.o.g.g.i.ng the steps of the pa.s.senger ahead, who walked carelessly on in happy unconsciousness that he was watched or pursued.
These four, tracked and trackers, were pretty close together as they turned out of the main thoroughfare into a street, which several yards of high dead wall without lamps rendered one of the darkest in the West-End of London. Frank looked up and down for a policeman in vain.
Not a soul was to be seen, and finding himself the only occupant of the pavement, he ran stealthily forward to the corner round which the others had lately disappeared, much mistrusting his a.s.sistance would be wanted without delay.
He was right. Already he could hear a scuffling of feet, a smothered oath, two or three blows exchanged, in short, sharp cracks like pistol-shots, while a hoa.r.s.e voice muttered:
”Slip it into him, George! Would ye now? Take that--and that?”
Notwithstanding their numbers, however, the ruffians seemed to have a hard bargain of their prey. The latter, with his back to the dead wall, fought like a wild cat, but three to one make short work, and in a couple of minutes he was overpowered, and down on his knee. Had his head touched the pavement, it might never have risen again, but at this critical juncture in leaped Frank Vanguard, like an Apollo who had learned to box. One remarkably straight left-hander doubled up the smallest a.s.sailant like the kick of a horse, while another sent the next in size staggering into the middle of the road, where he thought well to remain for a s.p.a.ce, grasping his jaw with both hands, and blaspheming hideously. The biggest villain, shouting ”Bobbies!” with an execration, and expressing his intention to ”hook it,” took to his sc.r.a.pers, as he called them, at once, and was speedily followed by his equally cowardly auxiliaries.
Frank looked wistfully after the a.s.sailants, while he lifted their victim to his feet, exclaiming, with the utmost surprise, ”Why, it's Picard!” as the dim light enabled him to identify that gentleman, considerably mauled and dishevelled, yet apparently not very seriously hurt.
Bleeding and breathless, Picard's presence of mind seemed, however, not to have deserted him. Before thanking Vanguard he felt for a parcel of notes in his breast-pocket, and laughed as heartily as aching bones and heaving lungs would permit.
”They have missed 'the swag,'” said he, wiping his b.l.o.o.d.y face with a cambric handkerchief, ”and it's worth collaring, I can tell you. It's always my maxim to stick by the stuff; but if it hadn't been for _you_, 'squire, I must have caved out this spell, I estimate. It would have been a pity, too,” he added, relapsing into the English language as he cooled down, ”for, bar one at Baltimore, two years back, it's the best night I ever had in my life. 'Pon my soul, Vanguard, I'm heartily obliged to you; and how you hit out! Why, that dirty, black-muzzled chap spun round as if he was shot.”
”He's hurt my knuckles, the little beast!” said Frank, looking with much commiseration at certain abrasions on a white and bony hand. ”But what have you been about, my dear fellow! and how did they know you'd got money? Were you at all screwed?”
”Sober as a judge!” answered Picard. ”In fact, a deal soberer than some judges I've seen down West in my time! I've been playing billiards ever since eleven o'clock, making game after game off the b.a.l.l.s in a form you'd hardly believe. The fact is, I caught a flat, who thought he was a sharp! First he lost his money, then his temper. Of course he played on to get back both. I didn't win so very easy, you know; indeed I had rather a squeak for it more than once; but I always managed to nail him in the last break. Then we got to double or quits, and I needn't tell you how _that_ went. He'd a friend, too, from the country, what you Britishers call 'a yokel,' I suspect, who backed his man handsome and paid up like the Bank of England. I drew this sportsman to a lively tune, I can tell you. Altogether I landed a hatful, and not a drop would I have to drink till just before starting. I don't _think_ they hocussed me; no, I've been hocussed before, and I know what it is. But their brandy was infernally strong, or the soda-water unaccountably weak, for somehow I felt so jolly I said I wouldn't have a cab, but walk home behind a weed.
”Now I think of it, there was a big, awkward-looking skunk loafing about the table most of the night, who never betted nor played, but seemed always on the watch, to see we didn't steal the chalk, as I supposed. I know better now. He sneaked out, I remarked, when I went for a c.o.c.ktail.
No doubt he watched me start off to walk, and followed with his pals.
That's the gentleman who 'skedaddled' just now so freely when it came to a fight. Captain Vanguard, I say again, I'm infernally obliged to you!”
Frank, whose excitement had cooled down, was on thorns to receive his letter. ”Have a cigar,” said he, proffering his case. ”I fear I can't do anything more for you now. I'll see you home, if you like, but I'm rather anxious to get to my club before they shut up. It's the 'Cauliflower,' you know. Almost in the next street.”
”I live close by,” exclaimed Picard. ”We'll go together, and I hope you'll come and look me up at my rooms to-morrow. I've a few Yankee notions, and things I've got together knocking about Mexico and the States. They might amuse you, and I can give you a capital weed--n.o.body better; and you shall have the best I have, you shall! John Picard never yet forgot a good turn nor a bad one. You're the right sort, Captain, real grit; and you and me are mates for life. It's John Picard says so, and there's his hand upon it!”
Frank, who entertained a truly British horror of being thanked, would fain have escaped forthwith, but there was no avoiding the proffered hand; and it struck him also that his new friend reeled somewhat in his gait, talking the while more volubly and thicker than at first.
Resolving, therefore, to see him safely to his own door, and return as speedily as possible to the ”Cauliflower,” he grappled his companion firmly by the arm, and steered him without difficulty along the now deserted pavement.
A couple of heavy blows on the head, with a strong squeeze of the throat, had served, no doubt, to intensify the effect of such villanous brandy as Picard imbibed before leaving the billiard-room in which he had been so successful. He said as much, admitting a certain influence on his physical powers, but repudiating, with suspicious jealousy, the idea that hard knocks or alcohol could in any way affect his brain.
”My boots are a little screwed,” he observed, contemplating them with a gentle forbearance, ”but my legs are right enough, and so am I. John Picard isn't a man, sir, to be upset by a drop of corn-brandy, nor a hug from a loafer like that. I'd have whipped him into Devons.h.i.+re cream if I'd had a clear stage. How many were there, now, according to your calculation? I tell ye fair, I was down (because these d--d boots chose to get drunk) before I'd time to count!”