CHAPTER VIII. A SMALL PRECAUTION
My delight in the society of this young Squire Rattray (as I soon was tohear him styled) had been such as to make me almost forget the sinisterincident which had brought us together. When I returned to my room,however, there were the open window and the litter on the floor toremind me of what had happened earlier in the night. Yet I was lessdisconcerted than you might suppose. A common housebreaker can havefew terrors for one who has braved those of mid-ocean single-handed; mywould-be visitor had no longer any for me; for it had not yet occurredto me to connect him with the voices and the footsteps to which, indeed,I had been unable to swear before the doctor. On the other hand, thesemorbid imaginings (as I was far from unwilling to consider them) hadone and all deserted me in the sane, clean company of the capital youngfellow in the next room.
I have confessed my condition up to the time of this queer meeting.I have tried to bring young Rattray before you with some hint of hisfreshness and his boyish charm; and though the sense of failure is heavyupon me there, I who knew the man knew also that I must fail to do himjustice. Enough may have been said, however, to impart some faint ideaof what this youth was to me in the bitter and embittering anti-climaxof my life. Conventional figures spring to my pen, but every one of themis true; he was flowers in spring, he was sunshine after rain, he wasrain following long months of drought. I slept admirably after all;and I awoke to see the overturned toilet-table, and to thrill as Iremembered there was one fellow-creature with whom I could fraternizewithout fear of a rude reopening of my every wound.
I hurried my dressing in the hope of our breakfasting together. Iknocked at the next door, and, receiving no answer, even venturedto enter, with the same idea. He was not there. He was not in thecoffee-room. He was not in the hotel.
I broke my fast in disappointed solitude, and I hung about disconsolateall the morning, looking wistfully for my new-made friend. Towardsmid-day he drove up in a cab which he kept waiting at the curb.
"It's all right!" he cried out in his hearty way. "I sent my telegramfirst thing, and I've had the answer at my club. The rooms are vacant,and I'll see that Jane Braithwaite has all ready for you by to-morrownight."
I thanked him from my heart. "You seem in a hurry!" I added, as Ifollowed him up the stairs.
"I am," said he. "It's a near thing for the train. I've just time tostick in my things."
"Then I'll stick in mine," said I impulsively, "and I'll come with you,and doss down in any corner for the night."
He stopped and turned on the stairs.
"You mustn't do that," said he; "they won't have anything ready. I'mgoing to make it my privilege to see that everything is as cosey aspossible when you arrive. I simply can't allow you to come to-day, Mr.Cole!" He smiled, but I saw that he was in earnest, and of course I gavein.
"All right," said I; "then I must content myself with seeing you off atthe station."
To my surprise his smile faded, and a flush of undisguised annoyancemade him, if anything, better-looking than ever. It brought out acertain strength of mouth and jaw which I had not observed therehitherto. It gave him an ugliness of expression which only emphasizedhis perfection of feature.
"You mustn't do that either," said he, shortly. "I have an appointmentat the station. I shall be talking business all the time."
He was gone to his room, and I went to mine feeling duly snubbed; yet Ideserved it; for I had exhibited a characteristic (though not chronic)want of taste, of which I am sometimes guilty to this day. Not to showill-feeling on the head of it, I nevertheless followed him down againin four or five minutes. And I was rewarded by his brightest smile as hegrasped my hand.
"Come to-morrow by the same train," said he, naming station, line, andhour; "unless I telegraph, all will be ready and you shall be met. Youmay rely on reasonable charges. As to the fishing, go up-stream--to theright when you strike the beck--and you'll find a good pool or two. Imay have to go to Lancaster the day after to-morrow, but I shall giveyou a call when I get back."
With that we parted, as good friends as ever. I observed that my regretat losing him was shared by the boots, who stood beside me on the stepsas his hansom rattled off.
"I suppose Mr. Rattray stays here always when he comes to town?" said I.
"No, sir," said the man, "we've never had him before, not in my time;but I shouldn't mind if he came again." And he looked twice at the coinin his hand before pocketing it with evident satisfaction.
Lonely as I was, and wished to be, I think that I never felt myloneliness as I did during the twenty-four hours which intervenedbetween Rattray's departure and my own. They dragged like wet days bythe sea, and the effect was as depressing. I have seldom been at sucha loss for something to do; and in my idleness I behaved like a child,wishing my new friend back again, or myself on the railway with my newfriend, until I blushed for the beanstalk growth of my regard for him,an utter stranger, and a younger man. I am less ashamed of it now: hehad come into my dark life like a lamp, and his going left a darknessdeeper than before.
In my dejection I took a new view of the night's outrage. It was nocommon burglar's work, for what had I worth stealing? It was the work ofmy unseen enemies, who dogged me in the street; they alone knew why; thedoctor had called these hallucinations, and I had forced myself to agreewith the doctor; but I could not deceive myself in my present mood.I remembered the steps, the steps--the stopping when I stopped--thedrawing away in the crowded streets---the closing up in quieter places.Why had I never looked round? Why? Because till to-day I had thought itmere vulgar curiosity; because a few had bored me, I had imagined themany at my heels; but now I knew--I knew! It was the few again: a fewwho hated me even unto death.
The idea took such a hold upon me that I did not trouble my head withreasons and motives. Certain persons had designs upon my life; that wasenough for me. On the whole, the thought was stimulating; it set a newvalue on existence, and it roused a certain amount of spirit even in me.I would give the fellows another chance before I left town. They shouldfollow me once more, and this time to some purpose. Last night they hadleft a knife on me; to-night I would have a keepsake ready for them.
Hitherto I had gone unarmed since my landing, which, perhaps, was nomore than my duty as a civilized citizen. On Black Hill Flats, however,I had formed another habit, of which I should never have broken myselfso easily, but for the fact that all the firearms I ever had werereddening and rotting at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. I now wentout and bought me such a one as I had never possessed before.
The revolver was then in its infancy; but it did exist; and by duskI was owner of as fine a specimen as could be procured in the city ofLondon. It had but five chambers, but the barrel was ten inches long;one had to cap it, and to put in the powder and the wadded bulletseparately; but the last-named would have killed an elephant. The oakcase that I bought with it cumbers my desk as I write, and, shut,you would think that it had never contained anything more lethal thanfruit-knives. I open it, and there are the green-baize compartments, onewith a box of percussion caps, still apparently full, another that couldnot contain many more wadded-bullets, and a third with a powder-hornwhich can never have been much lighter. Within the lid is a labelbearing the makers' names; the gentlemen themselves are unknown to me,even if they are still alive; nevertheless, after five-and-forty years,let me dip my pen to Messrs. Deane, Adams and Deane!
That night I left this case in my room, locked, and the key in mywaistcoat pocket; in the right-hand side-pocket of my overcoat I carriedmy Deane and Adams, loaded in every chamber; also my right hand, asinnocently as you could wish. And just that night I was not followed! Iwalked across Regent's Park, and I dawdled on Primrose Hill, withoutthe least result. Down I turned into the Avenue Road, and presently wasstrolling between green fields towards Finchley. The moon was up, butnicely shaded by a thin coating of clouds which extended across the sky:it was an ideal night for it. It was also my last night in town, and Idid want to give the beggars their
last chance. But they did not evenattempt to avail themselves of it: never once did they follow me: myears were in too good training to make any mistake. And the reason onlydawned on me as I drove back disappointed: they had followed me alreadyto the gunsmith's!
Convinced of this, I entertained but little hope of another midnightvisitor. Nevertheless, I put my light out early, and sat a long timepeeping through my blind; but only an inevitable Tom, with back hunchedup and tail erect, broke the moonlit profile of the back-garden wall;and once more that disreputable music (which none the less had saved mylife) was the only near sound all night.
I felt very reluctant to pack Deane and Adams away in his case nextmorning, and the case in my portmanteau, where I could not get at it incase my unknown friends took it into their heads to accompany me out oftown. In the hope that they would, I kept him loaded, and in the sameovercoat pocket, until late in the afternoon, when, being very near mynorthern destination, and having the compartment to myself, I locked thetoy away with considerable remorse for the price I had paid for it. Alldown the line I had kept an eye for suspicious characters with an eyeupon me; but even my self-consciousness failed to discover one; and Ireached my haven of peace, and of fresh fell air, feeling, I suppose,much like any other fool who has spent his money upon a white elephant.