The Brass Bottle Part 35

"I'll ring for my landlady and have the bottle brought up," said Horace.

"Perhaps that will satisfy you? Stay, you'd better not let her see you."

"I will render myself invisible," said the Jinnee, suiting the action to his words. "But beware lest thou play me false," his voice continued, "for I shall hear thee!"

"So you've come in, Mr. Ventimore?" said Mrs. Rapkin, as she entered.

"And without the furrin gentleman? I _was_ surprised, and so was Rapkin the same, to see you ridin' off this morning in the gorgious chariot and 'osses, and dressed up that lovely! 'Depend upon it,' I says to Rapkin, I says, 'depend upon it, Mr. Ventimore'll be sent for to Buckinham Pallis, if it ain't Windsor Castle!'"

"Never mind that now," said Horace, impatiently; "I want that bra.s.s bottle I bought the other day. Bring it up at once, please."

"I thought you said the other day you never wanted to set eyes on it again, and I was to do as I pleased with it, sir?"

"Well, I've changed my mind, so let me have it, quick."

"I'm sure I'm very sorry, sir, but that you can't, because Rapkin, not wishful to have the place lumbered up with rubbish, disposed of it on'y last night to a gentleman as keeps a rag and bone emporium off the Bridge Road, and 'alf-a-crown was the most he'd give for it, sir."

"Give me his name," said Horace.

"Dilger, sir--Emanuel Dilger. When Rapkin comes in I'm sure he'd go round with pleasure, and see about it, if required."

"I'll go round myself," said Horace. "It's all right, Mrs. Rapkin, quite a natural mistake on your part, but--but I happen to want the bottle again. You needn't stay."

"O thou smooth-faced and double-tongued one!" said the Jinnee, after she had gone, as he reappeared to view. "Did I not foresee that thou wouldst deal crookedly? Restore unto me my bottle!"

"I'll go and get it at once," said Horace; "I shan't be five minutes."

And he prepared to go.

"Thou shalt not leave this house," cried Fakrash, "for I perceive plainly that this is but a device of thine to escape and betray me to the Press Devil!"

"If you can't see," said Horace, angrily, "that I'm quite as anxious to see you safely back in that confounded bottle as ever you can be to get there, you must be pretty dense! _Can't_ you understand? The bottle's sold, and I can't buy it back without going out. Don't be so infernally unreasonable!"

"Go, then," said the Jinnee, "and I will await thy return here. But know this: that if thou delayest long or returnest without my bottle, I shall know that thou art a traitor, and will visit thee and those who are dear to thee with the most unpleasant punishments!"

"I'll be back in half an hour, at most," said Horace, feeling that this would allow him ample margin, and thankful that it did not occur to Fakrash to go in person.

He put on his hat, and hurried off in the gathering dusk. He had some little trouble in finding Mr. Dilger's establishment, which was a dirty, dusty little place in a back street, with a few deplorable old chairs, rickety washstands, and rusty fenders outside, and the interior almost completely blocked by piles of dingy mattresses, empty clock-cases, tarnished and cracked mirrors, broken lamps, damaged picture-frames, and everything else which one would imagine could have no possible value for any human being. But in all this collection of worthless curios the bra.s.s bottle was nowhere to be seen.

Ventimore went in and found a youth of about thirteen straining his eyes in the fading light over one of those halfpenny humorous journals which, thanks to an improved system of education, at least eighty per cent. of our juvenile population are now enabled to appreciate.

"I want to see Mr. Dilger," he began.

"You can't," said the youth. "'Cause he ain't in. He's attending of an auction."

"When _will_ he be in, do you know?"

"Might be back to his tea--but I wasn't to expect him not before supper."

"You don't happen to have any old metal bottles--copper or--or bra.s.s would do--for sale?"

"You don't git at me like that! Bottles is made o' glorss."

"Well, a jar, then--a big bra.s.s pot--anything of that kind?"

"Don't keep 'em," said the boy, and buried himself once more in his copy of "Spicy Sn.i.g.g.e.rs."

"I'll just look round," said Horace, and began to poke about with a sinking heart, and a horrid dread that he might have come to the wrong shop, for the big pot-bellied vessel certainly did not seem to be there.

At last, to his unspeakable joy, he discovered it under a piece of tattered drugget. "Why, this is the sort of thing I meant," he said, feeling in his pocket and discovering that he had exactly a sovereign.

"How much do you want for it?"

"I dunno," said the boy.

"I don't mind three s.h.i.+llings," said Horace, who did not wish to appear too keen at first.

"I'll tell the guv'nor when he comes in," was the reply, "and you can look in later."

"I want it at once," insisted Horace. "Come, I'll give you three-and-six for it."

"It's more than it's wurf," replied the candid youth.

"Perhaps," said Horace, "but I'm rather pressed for time. If you'll change this sovereign, I'll take the bottle away with me."

"You seem uncommon anxious to get 'old on it, mister!" said the boy, with sudden suspicion.

"Nonsense!" said Horace. "I live close by, and I thought I might as well take it, that's all."

"Oh, if that's all, you can wait till the guv'nor's in."

"I--I mayn't be pa.s.sing this way again for some time," said Horace.

"Bound to be, if you live close by," and the provoking youth returned to his "Sn.i.g.g.e.rs."

"Do you call this attending to your master's business?" said Horace.

"Listen to me, you young rascal. I'll give you five s.h.i.+llings for it.

You're not going to be fool enough to refuse an offer like that?"

"I ain't goin' to be fool enough to refuse it--nor yet I ain't goin' to be fool enough to take it, 'cause I'm only 'ere to see as n.o.body don't come in and sneak fings. I ain't got no authority to sell anyfink, and I don't know the proice o' nuffink, so there you _'ave_ it."

"Take the five s.h.i.+llings," said Horace, "and if it's too little I'll come round and settle with your master later."

"I thought you said you wasn't likely to be porsin' again? No, mister, you don't kid me that way!"

Horace had a mad impulse to s.n.a.t.c.h up the precious bottle then and there and make off with it, and might have yielded to the temptation, with disastrous consequences, had not an elderly man entered the shop at that moment. He was bent, and wore rather more fluff and flue upon his person than most well-dressed people would consider necessary, but he came in with a certain air of authority, nevertheless.

"Mr. Dilger, sir," piped the youth, "'ere's a gent took a fancy to this 'ere bra.s.s pot o' yours. Says he _must_ 'ave it. Five s.h.i.+llings he'd got to, but I told him he'd 'ave to wait till you come in."

"Quite right, my lad!" said Mr. Dilger, c.o.c.king a watery but sharp old eye at Horace. "Five s.h.i.+llings! Ah, sir, you can't know much about these hold bra.s.s antiquities to make an orfer like that."

"I know as much as most people," said Horace. "But let us say six s.h.i.+llings."

"Couldn't be done, sir; couldn't indeed. Why, I give a pound for it myself at Christie's, as sure as I'm standin' 'ere in the presence o' my Maker, and you a sinner!" he declared impressively, if rather ambiguously.