Part 7 (2/2)
At the sight of the fuzzy little bare poll light slowly dawned on the inspector; but even more quickly Mr. Biggleswade had seen that the game was up, flung Blazer away from him, and bolted through the barrier.
The Inspector rushed after him; but Blazer, who apparently had not had enough of Mr. Biggleswade's calf, outstripped him, and pinned the fugitive on the very step of a hansom.
When Tinker and Elizabeth, escorted by an excited and applauding crowd, came out of the station they found Mr. Biggleswade, the inspector, two constables, and Blazer in a tangled, battling group. Tinker saw his chance of escaping any further aid from the police, thrust Elizabeth into a hansom, gave the cabman the address, whistled Blazer out of the fight, jumped in after her, and drove off amid the cheers of the crowd.
By the time the dishevelled police had Mr. Biggleswade secured, and could turn their attention to them, the children were half a mile away.
Tinker's hands had been torn by the savage rascal, and on the way to Cadogan Square he was busy staunching their bleeding. By tearing his handkerchief in two he managed with Elizabeth's aid to bandage both; but he was vexed that they must make such an unpleasant appearance before her relatives. When they reached Cadogan Square he paid the cabman, and rang the bell; but when the door opened, Elizabeth a.s.sumed the leaders.h.i.+p. She caught Tinker's hand, dragged him past the astonished footman, hurried him up the stairs, and burst with him into a drawing room, where half a score of mournful people were discussing over their tea the further measures for her recovery.
”I've come back, mamma! And this is Hildebrand Anne Beauleigh, but his real name is Tinker!” cried Elizabeth.
In a breath Mrs. Kernaby had her in her arms; there were screams and pantings, and a bandying to and fro of smelling salts. Everyone was hugging Elizabeth, or shaking hands with Mr. Kernaby, or slapping one another on the back and a.s.suring one another that they had always said so. Tinker watched their exuberance with some distaste, which redoubled when Elizabeth's tangled and incoherent tale drew upon him the embraces of half a dozen animated and highly scented ladies of the kind who haunt the houses of unprotected millionaires. When at last quiet was restored, he told his story, omitting as many of his own doings as were not absolutely necessary to make it clear, in a fear lest they should provoke another outburst of embraces.
When he had clearly grasped the fact that Tinker was the son of Sir Tancred Beauleigh, all the warm-heartedness of his native Drumtochty bubbled up in Mr. Joseph Kernaby; he shook him warmly by the hand, and cried:
”Mah mannie; eh, but you're a braw sonsie laddie; an' aiblins ye need it, nor yoursel' nor any o' your n.o.ble an' deesteengueeshed family shall ne'er ask the twice a wee bit bite or soop unner this humble roof.”
Tinker, not having the Gaelic, was somewhat taken aback by the cryptic utterance; but an anxious-looking younger son of an embarra.s.sed peer, who for a considerable consideration was bear-leading the millionaire through the social labyrinth, hurriedly interpreted it to him as a standing invitation to dinner. He thanked Mr. Kernaby, and begged that a telegram might at once be sent to his father, informing him of his success and safety.
”They tallygrams they yanners the saxpences, mah mannie,” said the millionaire with a falling face. ”A poostcaird is a verra----”
But the anxious-looking younger son cut him short, said that it should be sent at once, and bade the footman charged with its despatch bring also a doctor to dress Tinker's wounded hands.
Meanwhile Sir Tancred, as soon as he learnt that Mr. Biggleswade had caught the express, had hurried hot-foot in a devouring anxiety to Beachley, where dwelt a p.a.w.nbroker, raised money, and caught there a train to town. When he reached Cadogan Square he found Tinker making an excellent tea after his exhausting labours, and giving an account of the Biggleswades to a detective from Scotland Yard. When he had heard Sir Tancred's story, too, the detective said that Mr. Biggleswade would get five years; and the event proved him right.
There was no getting away from the grateful Kernabys, but after the cooking of the Royal Victoria hotel Sir Tancred was more than ready for a good dinner. He found in his host and hostess a strong disposition to adopt Tinker forthwith; and before the end of dinner he found them no less inclined to adopt him, too. But it could not be.
After dinner, disregarding the faint expostulations of the anxious-looking younger son, the millionaire rose to his feet and p.r.o.nounced a glowing, fervid, but, save for the couplet,
”The rank is but the guinea stamp The maan's the maan for a' that”
unintelligible eulogy on the family of Beauleigh.
As he drove away with Tinker to the Hotel Cecil, Sir Tancred crinkled the millionaire's cheque in his waistcoat pocket, and said, ”Four thousand pounds is a good day's work--two thousand for you--and two thousand for me. We'll move to Brighton. But I spent some of the most horrible hours of my life wondering if that beast had got into the same compartment with you. None of the fools at the station could tell me.”
”I was afraid you'd be anxious, sir,” said Tinker, patting his arm.
”But I think that Blazer and I could have dealt with him.”
Then he gave Blazer--who, distended by the fat of the land, was snoring heavily through happy dreams of the human calf, at the bottom of the cab--a gentle kick, and said with sad severity, ”I shall never make a real bloodhound of Blazer. Bloodhounds leap at a man's throat; they don't collar him by the leg.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE STOLEN FLYING-MACHINE
”You vas a vonder-child!” said Herr Schlugst. ”You know dat machine as good as me!” And his goggle eyes stared out of his round, good-natured face at Hildebrand Anne in a wondering admiration.
”Yes; I think I have got the hang of her,” said Hildebrand Anne with some pride, looking up at the great cigar-shaped balloon which hung motionless in the still air.
”Vat for do dey call thee Tinkar? You vas not look like a tinkar; and you vas not haf--do not haf de tinkar brain.”
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