The Red Derelict Part 27

The time was the middle of the morning, the place the saloon bar of the Golden Crown in Ba.s.singham, and the speaker Bob Calmour, who had been indulging in more John Walker than was good for him, incidentally at the expense of an opportune friend. The man thus unceremoniously expostulated with was a tallish man with a weather-beaten face and a white beard, who had committed the grave indiscretion of being there what time the unsteady Bob had lurched backward, thus cannoning against him. We have seen him twice before for a short s.p.a.ce--once at Hilversea Court and once in Hilversea park.

"See here, young man," was the answer, drily given, "I think it's time you went home."

"See here, old c.o.c.k, when I want to know what you _think_ I'll ask; till then I'll trouble you to keep it to yourself."

And the tone was particularly aggressive and insulting.

"If you don't keep a civil tongue in your head I shall be under the necessity of starting you on the first homeward stage by firing you into the street," said the stranger with the most provoking tranquillity.

That white beard proved Bob's undoing. He a.s.sociated it with age, and age with decrepitude.

"Will you?" he yelped. "You couldn't do it--no, nor three of you."

"Not, eh?" said the stranger; and then Bob Calmour hardly knew what had happened, except that some irresistible force had got him by the scruff of the neck and was propelling him rapidly towards the swing doors. The latter swung, and Bob shot down the steps outside, and would have fallen bang on his nose but that he cannoned into a pa.s.sing stranger just in time.

"Here! Hi! Hold up! Why the devil don't you look where you're going, you silly young a.s.s!" cried the latter angrily as he collared him. All the swagger and bounce had evaporated from the luckless Bob. The whimpered apology died away into a sort of yelp of terror, and his pasty face went ashy white as he realised that he had run bang into no less formidable a person than Haldane. And in the hand of the latter was a riding-crop. Visions of the ghastly thras.h.i.+ng he had deserved at that individual's hands, and would certainly receive, finished him off, and he dropped limply on to the pavement in a sitting posture, half fainting.

"Awfully sorry, sir," he was just able to whine; "but I've been violently a.s.saulted by a ruffian in there, and--er--couldn't see where I--I--was going."

Haldane looked at him with a sort of good-natured contempt, seeing before him just an ordinary raffish young pup who had probably got quarrelsome in his cups and come off worst.

"Well, you'd better go away home," he said shortly, and pa.s.sed on, leaving the unspeakable Bob to pick himself up with feelings akin to those of a criminal reprieved on the very drop itself, then as one condemned afresh as he saw Wagram cross the road and join Haldane. The two stood talking together, then, turning, they looked at him. Of course, Wagram was giving him away, decided the terror-stricken Bob, whose every instinct now was flight--headlong flight; wherefore, having shuffled rapidly round a friendly corner, he sprinted for cover all he knew, nor stopped till he found himself, panting, within the--for once welcome because protective--offices of Pownall and Skreet. Nor did he more than half hear the acrid jobation to which Pownall, who had seen him arrive, treated him by reason of having taken so long about the business upon which he had been sent out.

Here again came in the strange, mysterious workings of Fate--or Providence. Had the African adventurer been a little more roused to ire it is conceivable that, not content with throwing the offensive Bob into the street, he might even have kicked him along a section of the same, which, of course, would have befallen exactly what time Haldane was pa.s.sing. In which event the whole course of this history might have been changed; in fact, we will go as far as to say that it certainly would have been. And it has been recorded that Haldane seldom came to Ba.s.singham.

"Hope I haven't been the means of spoiling custom," said Develin Hunt pleasantly as he returned to where he had been standing, "because, if so, I hope that all here will put a name to theirs and join me by doing something to make up for it."

"Oh, that's all right, Mr Hunt," said the landlord, who, attracted by the scuffle, short as it was, had come in. "Not much 'custom' about that young waster."

"Who is he?"

"Young Calmour, a clerk at Pownall and Skreet's. I only wonder they haven't given him the sack long ago."

"I must say he brought it upon himself," said the man who had been "standing" him. "Bob can be pretty abusive when he's got anything on board. Mine? Oh, thanks; another Scotch, I think. Here's luck."

The landlord's answer had given Develin Hunt food for thought, not for astonishment; he had seen too many queer phases of life to be astonished at anything. So this egregious young pup stood in the relations.h.i.+p of brother to the exceedingly pretty and even refined-looking girl he had seen with Wagram and his party in Hilversea park some Sundays ago! It seemed hardly credible, but then, as we have said, he was astonished at nothing.

He had not spent all the intervening time in Ba.s.singham, where at the Golden Crown he was very popular, and instrumental in an increase of custom; for he was open-handed in setting up "rounds," and could tell strange, wild stories of strange, wild lands and stranger, wilder people, and this led to an increasing roll up of the good citizens of Ba.s.singham of an evening. But he had not as yet made acquaintance with old Calmour, for the very good reason that that worthy had transferred his custom elsewhere, from motives that may be readily divined.

Now, although Haldane had not seen Develin Hunt the latter had seen Haldane. It was a mere glimpse s.n.a.t.c.hed between the swing doors as they let out the obnoxious Bob; but in the school which had afforded the African adventurer his life training a mere glimpse to him was as good as half-an-hour's scrutiny to most men, and to this one and his plans it now made all the difference in the world.

"Who was the man I shot that young pup against?" he said. "Tallish man, sunburnt face, and riding-gaiters?"

"Squire Haldane, worse luck!" answered the landlord.

"Why 'worse luck'?"

"He's a magistrate. He don't often show up in Ba.s.singham, and now, when he does, get's nearly knocked down by a chump fired out of my bar in the middle of the morning. Maybe he'll have a word to say, when licensing day comes round, that I keep my house rowdy."

"Shouldn't think he'd do that, Smith, he looks too much of a sportsman.

I'll bet drinks all round that man has been in countries where firing anyone out doesn't const.i.tute the liveliest side of a bar worry."

"I won't take you, then, because he has," replied Smith. "But what made you think so?"

"Quite simple. He never got painted that colour by any sun that only shone over the British Isles."

"Here, I say, sir, excuse me," struck in the young man who had brought in Bob, "you're not Sherlock Holmes, are you?"

"No. Who's he?"

"Who's he? Never heard of Sherlock Holmes?"

"Now you're trying to get at me, young man. I suppose you're going to answer he was a chap who'd forgotten that everybody's gla.s.s had been empty too long. All right. Set 'em up again, Smith, for all hands."

There was a big laugh at this, and three persons started in to explain at once.

"Come to think of it, I had heard of the party, but I'd forgotten," said Hunt with his usual easy good humour. "But about this one, the one we were talking about--where did you say he'd been, Smith?"

"Squire Haldane? Oh, everywhere. Mostly in South Africa, I believe.

He lives out Fulkston way--a goodish step from here."

a.s.similating this piece of information, which, from the point of view of his purposes, was satisfactory, the adventurer easily and imperceptibly switched the conversation on to other matters, and shortly retired to his own quarters.

He sat down to think. He had made an important discovery that day-- important to the last degree. Haldane in the neighbourhood, and a resident at that! Heavens! what a near thing it had been that they had not run right into each other! The adventurer's hard face grew quite moist at the thought of it, and of what a volcano he had been sitting over during his sojournings in Ba.s.singham the last few weeks. This discovery had clean altered his plans, and now in their altered stage he must proceed to put them into operation without a moment of unnecessary delay.

And yet throughout that day, until after dark, Develin Hunt never ventured outside the doors of the Golden Crown.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

THE BOLT.

"Well, Squire, I've called to settle up that little matter that has been outstanding," said Develin Hunt pleasantly as he took the seat indicated to him--exactly the same seat, by the way, that he had occupied during that first interview in which we made his personal acquaintance.

"Yes?"

"Yes. But first of all you'll admit that I haven't hurried you any over the inquiries you've been making; in fact, have afforded you every facility I could in the making of them."

"Yes; I'll admit that."

"And it's a case of 'as you were.' Well, it's satisfactory to both of us, because now there's no room for any little mistake. I have enjoyed my stay in this charming neighbourhood. By the way, I hope you enjoyed yours at the moors, Squire, and had good sport. Well, now, I've got a modification of my former proposal to put to you. I've decided that this part of the country, delightful as it is, won't suit me for more than one reason; so, instead of becoming a neighbour of yours, I would suggest some comfortable little arrangement in hard cash."

"Yes. May I ask what would meet your requirements? Don't be too modest, pray."

The adventurer's face brightened. The easy tone, the satiric banter was only the other's philosophical and courtly manner of making the best of a bad job. He had won the game at last.

"What do you say to thirty thou? Not all at once; I would be prepared to accept a cheque for twenty-five thou, down, and the rest six months later."