Part 49 (1/2)

The memory of kindness received was almost too much for him, he paused, unable to go on.

John Ellison looked the other way as he sat down at a respectful distance, and began to scatter sugar-drops to the monkeys. Then he cleared his throat elaborately.

'Like as you saved me, I expect, sir, from breaking my neck over them blamed stairs last night, sir. One good turn deserves another, as the sayin' is, so we're about quits. Not,' he went on, as if to make a diversion, 'that I was, so to speak, onnecessary drunk, sir, for it was a case o' gettin' tight or killin' a chap as cut me out, fair an'

square, with my fancy. So, it bein' fair an' square, I chose the better part an' drowned my sor'rers in the flowin' bowl. It's surprisin',' he continued, with the affable defiance with which he always alluded to his own lapses from grace, 'wot a teeny drop o' whisky will drown 'em; don't it, sir?' As he scattered the sugar-drops he sang the chorus of a drinking-song with great gusto.

They were an odd couple those two, the alien feeding the sacred monkeys, the native watching him silently, and both conscious of a bond of fellows.h.i.+p between them.

'I suppose so,' replied Chris, after such a lapse of time that the remark seemed almost irrelevant, 'but I never tried it. I'm a teetotaller.'

'Deary dear!' e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Jan-Ali-shan sympathetically. It was really the only remark he could think of in such an extraordinary connection.

'It doesn't last, though, does it?' asked Chris after another long pause. 'And it gives you a headache next morning, doesn't it?'

Jan-Ali-shan's fluency returned to him. 'Lor' love you, no, sir! Not if you's used to it; special if kind friends put you to by-bye proper.' He broke off, then turned to Chris and shook his head--'Now you, sir, if I may make so bold, looks as if you 'ad one. You takes things too dutiful, sir, I expec's. It's 'ard on the 'ead, sir, is duty.'

Even _so_ much sympathy drove Chris to hiding the mist in his eyes by watching the monkeys. They were jostling and hustling, as ever, over the prize; but the sight for a wonder had brought few spectators, and such as they were stood far off, more curious than amused.

Jan-Ali-shan, looking towards them, raised his eyebrows and nodded carelessly. 'Got the 'ump to-day, 'as you, Ram-sammy? Well, keep it, sonny! It don't make no odds to me or 'Oneyman. Do it, siree?'

Apparently none, for the h.o.a.ry old sinner, out and away the tamest there, was pouching sugar-drops as fast as he could from the loafer's hand.

'Ellison,' came Chris Davenant's voice at last, with a note of decision in it, 'what would you do if you found yourself in--in such a tight place that you couldn't--yes, that you couldn't possibly get out of it?'

'Do?' echoed the other slowly, as he shook out the crumbs and tore the paper into fragments. 'W'y, kill the chap as put me there, if it was John Ellison 'imself as done the job! That's what I'd do, sir.'

Chris rose, and the note of decision was stronger. 'Thanks,' he said briefly, 'I think you're right.'

But Jan-Ali-shan had risen also, and now stood facing his superior officer with an expression of kindly tolerance and mournful respect.

'Not, sir, as there ever is sich an almighty tight place, as a chap can't get out of by leavin' a h'arm or a leg or a bit of hisself generally to be cast into 'ell fire, as it say in 'Oly Writ; for there ain't nothin' impossible, if you've enough of the devil in you--that's 'ow it comes in, sir; here he paused, doubtful, perhaps, whether Holy Writ contained this also, then went on easily, 'for it ain't no manner of use, sir, reachin' round for things as you can't catch no real holt of--you must jes' take wot comes 'andy, though it mayn't be much to be proud of--such as cuss words an' kicks and that like. But they give a powerful grip sometimes, sir, as you'd find, savin' your presence, if you was to give 'em a fair try.' He paused again, looked at Chris tentatively, then smiled a perfectly seraphic smile full of pity, wisdom, almost of tenderness. 'If I might make so bold, sir, w'ot a man you an' me 'd make if we was mixed up! H'arch-h'angels wouldn't 'ave a look in! And w'ot's more, I shouldn't 'ave to clean d.a.m.n myself keepin'

them _Kusseye_ coolies from sneakin' the cold chisels; an' a good name too for the lot, though it is cuss-you as I make it in general.'

'_Kuzai?_' echoed Chris quickly. 'What! are those fellows from the butcher's quarter giving trouble--and I only put them on out of charity? Why didn't you tell me before?'

But Jan-Ali-shan had reverted to his affable indifference. 'Trouble,'

he echoed in his turn, 'Lord, no, sir! I has to read the Riot Act summary most days--they get quarrelling with the 'Indoos over some cow-killin' tommy-rot; but w'en it come to sneakin' cold chisels, I 'ad to knock 'arf a dozen o' 'em down. But they don't give no trouble to speak of. Nor won't,' he added significantly, 'if they're spoke to proper.'

'I'll see to it to-morrow,' said Chris, and then, once more, wondered at his own words. This afternoon a frock-coat; to-morrow an inquiry into a workmen's quarrel; and between the two, inevitably, that decision. The rest was all unreal, but that was certain, that must come.

Jan-Ali-shan, however, as--after touching his cap decorously--he moved away, sang

'To-morrow will be Monday'

as if all the foundations of his world were absolutely sure.

And there were others, besides these two, on the river steps that morning whose outlook on the future showed the same divergence. A couple of munic.i.p.al scavengers, armed with the broom and basket which under our rule bids defiance to privilege, prejudice, and privacy, talked with cheerful certainty as they swept up the paper Jan-Ali-shan had torn to bits. The _Sirkar_ would have to employ everybody's relations if the plague went on as it had begun. They were shutting the shops already in the butcher's quarter, the hospitals were full, the bazaars empty. Of a surety there was a good time coming for scavengers!