Johnny Ludlow First Series Part 111

"It is the red one, sir"

"For a steamer in sight. She is not in yet then. It must be for _her_.

It's hardly likely there would be another one coming in this morning."

"There she is!" I exclaimed. For at that moment I caught sight in the distance of a steamer riding on close up to the harbour mouth, pitching a little in her course.

"Run you on, Johnny," said Mr. Brandon, in excitement. "I'll come as quickly as I can, but my legs are not as fleet as yours. Get a place close to the cords, and look out sharply."

It was a bright day, somewhat colder than it had been, and the wind high enough to make it tolerably rough for any but good sailors--as the sparkles of white foam on the blue sea betrayed. I secured a good place behind the cord, close to the landing-stage: a regular crowd had collected, early though it was, Sunday being an idle day with some of the French. The boat came in, was being moored fast below us, and was crowded with pale faces.

Up came the pa.s.sengers, mounting the almost perpendicular gangway: a.s.sisted by the boatmen, below; and by two appariteurs, in their c.o.c.ked hats and Sunday clothes, above. It was nearly low water: another quarter-of-an-hour and they'd have missed their tide: pleasant, that would have been, for the excursionists. As only one could ascend the ladder at once, I had the opportunity of seeing them all.

Scores came: my sight was growing half-confused: and there had been no one resembling Clement-Pell. Some of them looked fearfully ill still, and had not put up the ears of their caps or turned down their coat collars; so that to get a good view of these faces was not possible--and Clement-Pell might have already landed, for all I could be sure of to the contrary. Cloaks were common in those days, and travelling caps had long ears to them.

It was quite a stroke of fortune. A lady with a little boy behind her came up the ladder, and the man standing next to me--he was vary tall and big--went at once into a state of excitement. "C'est toi! c'est toi, ma soeur!" he called out. She turned at the voice, and a batch of kissing ensued. A stout dame pushed forward frantically to share the kissing: but a douanier angrily marched off the pa.s.senger towards the custom-house. She retorted on him not to be so _difficile_, turned round and said she must wait for her other little one. Altogether there was no end of chatter and commotion. I was eclipsed and pushed back into the shade.

The other child was appearing over the top of the ladder then; a mite of a girl, her face held close to the face of the gentleman carrying her. I supposed he was the husband. He wore a cloak, his cap was drawn well over his eyebrows, and very little could be seen of him but his hands and his nose. Was he the husband? The mother, thanking him volubly in broken English for his politeness in carrying up her little girl, would have taken her from him; but he motioned as if he would carry her to the custom-house, and stepped onward, looking neither to the left nor right. At that moment my tall neighbour and the stout dame raised a loud greeting to the child, clapping their hands and blowing kisses: the man put out his long arm and pulled at the sleeve of the young one's pelisse. It caused the gentleman to halt and look round. Enough to make him.

Why--where had I seen the eyes? They were close to mine, and seemed quite familiar. Then remembrance flashed over me. They were Clement-Pell's.

It is almost the only thing about a man or woman that cannot be disguised--the expression of the eyes. Once you are familiar with any one's eye, and have learned its expression by heart; the soul that looks out of it; you cannot be mistaken in the eye, though you meet it in a desert, and its owner be disguised as a cannibal.

But for the eyes, I should never have known him, got up, as he was, with false red hair. He went straight on instantly, not suspecting I was there, for the two had hidden me. The little child's face was pressed close to Mr. Pell's as he went on; a feeling came over me that he was carrying it, the better to conceal himself. As he went into the custom-house, I pushed backwards out of the crowd; saw Mr. Brandon, and whispered to him. He nodded quietly; as much as to say he thought Pell would come.

"Johnny, we must follow him: but we must not let him see us on any account. I dare say he is going all the way up to Maquetra--or whatever you call the place."

Making our way round to the door by which the pa.s.sengers were let out, we mixed with the mob and waited. The custom-house was not particular with Sunday excursionists, and they came swarming out by dozens. When Pell appeared, I jogged Mr. Brandon's elbow.

The touters, proclaiming the merits of their respective hotels, and thrusting their cards in Pell's face, seemed to startle him, for he shrank back. Comprehending the next moment, he said, No, no, pa.s.sed on to the carriages, and stepped into one that was closed. The driver was a couple of minutes at least, taking his orders: perhaps there was some bother, the one jabbering French, the other English. But the coach drove off at last.

"Now then, Johnny, for that other closed coach. We shall have to do without church this morning. Mind you make the coachman understand what he is to do."

"Suivez cette voiture qui vient de partir; mais pas trop pres." The man gave back a hearty "Oui, monsieur," as if he understood the case.

It was a slow journey. The first coach did not hurry itself, and took by-ways to its destination. It turned into the Rue de la Coupe, opposite our hotel, went through the Rue de l'Hopital, and thence to regions unknown. All I knew was, we went up a hill worse than that of the Grande Rue, and arrived circuitously at Maquetra. Mr. Brandon had stretched his head out as we pa.s.sed the hotel, but could not see the Squire.

"It's his affair, you know, Johnny. Not mine."

Clement Pell got out at his gate, and went in. We followed cautiously, and found the house-door on the latch, Mathilde having probably forgotten to close it after admitting Mr. Pell. They stood in the salon: Mathilde in a handsome light chintz gown and white stockings and shoes, for she had been to nine-o'clock ma.s.s; he with a strangely perplexed, blank expression on his face as he listened to her explanation.

"Yes, monsieur, it is sure they are depart; it is but the morning of yesterday. The proprietaire, he have the letter for you that Madame confide to him. He--Tiens, voici encore ces Messieurs!"

Surprise at our appearance must have caused her change of language.

Clement-Pell gave one look at us and turned his face to the window, hoping to escape unrecognized. Mr. Brandon ordered me to the English church in the Upper Town, saying I should not be very late for that, and told Mathilde he did not want her.

"I shall make the little promenade and meet my bon-ami," observed Mathilde, independently, as I proceeded to do as I was bid. And what took place between the two we left can only be related at second hand.

"Now, Mr. Pell, will you spare me your attention?" began Mr. Brandon.

Clement-Pell turned, and took off his cloak and cap, seeing that it would be worse than useless to attempt to keep up the farce. With the red wig on his head and the red hair on his face, no un.o.bservant man would then have recognized him for the great ex-financier.

Mr. Brandon was cold, uncompromising, but civil; Clement-Pell at first subdued and humble. Taking courage after a bit, he became slightly restive, somewhat inclined to be insolent.

"It is a piece of a.s.surance for you to come here at all, sir; tracking me over my very threshold, as if you were a detective officer. What is the meaning of it? I don't owe you money."

"I have told you the meaning," replied Mr. Brandon--feeling that his voice had never been more squeaky, but showing no sign of wrath. "The affair is not mine at all, but Squire Todhetley's, I was down on the port when you landed--went to look for you, in fact; the Squire did not happen to be in the way, so I followed you up in his place."

"With what object?"

"Why, dear me, Mr. Pell, you are not deaf. I mentioned the object; the Squire wants his two hundred pounds refunded. A very clever trick, your getting it from him!"

Clement-Pell drew in his lips; his face had no more colour in it than chalk. He sat with his back to the wall, his hands restlessly playing with his steel watch-chain. What had come of the thick gold one he used to wear? Mr. Brandon had a chair near the table, and faced him.

"Perhaps you would like me to refund to you all my creditors' money wholesale, as well as Mr. Todhetley's?" retorted Clement-Pell, mockingly.

"I have nothing to do with them, Mr. Pell. Neither, I imagine, does Mr.

Todhetley intend to make their business his. Let each man mind his own course, and stand or fall by it. If you choose to a.s.sure me you don't owe a fraction to any one else in the world, I shall not tell you that you do. I am speaking now for my friend, Squire Todhetley: I would a great deal rather he were here to deal with you himself; but action has accidentally been forced upon me."

"I know that I owe a good deal of money; or, rather, that a good many people have lost money through me," returned Clement-Pell, after a pause. "It's my misfortune; not my fault."

Mr. Brandon gave a dry cough. "As to its not being your fault, Mr. Pell, the less said about that the better. It was in your power to pull up in time, I conclude, when you first saw things were going wrong."

Clement-Pell lifted his hand to his forehead, as if he felt a pain there. "You don't know; you don't know," he said irritably,--a great deal of impatience in his tone.

"No, I'm thankful that I _don't_," said Mr. Brandon, taking out his tin box, and coolly eating a lozenge. "I am very subject to heartburn, Mr.

Pell. If ever you get it try magnesia lozenges. An upset, such as this affair of yours has been, would drive a man of my nerves into a lunatic asylum."

"It may do the same by me before I have done with it," returned Clement Pell. And Mr. Brandon thought he meant what he said.

"Any way, it is rumoured that some of those who are ruined will be there before long, Mr. Pell. You might, perhaps, feel a qualm of conscience if you saw the misery it has entailed."

"And do you think I don't feel it?" returned Mr. Pell, catching his breath. "You are mistaken, if you suppose I do not."

"About Squire Todhetley's two hundred pounds, sir?" resumed old Brandon, swallowing the last of the lozenge. "Is it convenient to you to give it me?"

"No, it is not," was the decided answer. And he seemed to be turning restive again.

"But I will _thank_ you to do so, Mr. Pell."

"I cannot do so."

"And not to make excuses over it. They will only waste time."

"I have not got the money; I cannot give it."

Upon that they set on again, hammer and tongs. Mr. Brandon insisting upon the money; Pell vowing that he had it not, and could not and would not give so much as a ten-pound note of it. Old Brandon never lost his temper, never raised his voice, but he said a thing or two that must have stung Pell's pride. At the end of twenty minutes, he was no nearer the money than before. Pell's patience gave signs of wearing out: Mr.

Brandon could have gone quietly on till bed-time.

"You must be aware that this is not a simple debt, Mr. Pell. It is--in fact--something worse. For your own sake, it may be well to refund it."