CHAPTER IX
AN EXCITING ADVENTURE
Mr Cargrim found a considerable number of people in the coffee-room, andthese, with tankards and glasses before them, were listening to theconversation of Jentham. Tobacco smoke filled the apartment with a thickatmosphere of fog, through which the gas-lights flared in a nebulousfashion, and rendered the air so hot that it was difficult to breathe inspite of the windows being open. At the head of the long table satJentham, drinking brandy-and-soda, and speaking in his cracked, refinedvoice with considerable spirit, his rat-like, quick eyes glittering thewhile with alcoholic lustre. He seemed to be considerably under theinfluence of drink, and his voice ran up and down from bass to treble ashe became excited in narrating his adventures.
Whether these were true or false Cargrim could not determine; foralthough the man trenched again and again on the marvellous, hecertainly seemed to be fully acquainted with what he was talking about,and related the most wonderful stories in a thoroughly dramatic fashion.Like Ulysses, he knew men and cities, and appeared to have travelled asmuch as that famous globe-trotter. In his narration he passed from Chinato Chili, sailed north to the Pole, steamed south to the Horn, describedthe paradise of the South Seas, and discoursed about the wild wastes ofsnowy Siberia. The capitals of Europe appeared to be as familiar to himas the chair he was seated in; and the steppes of Russia, the deserts ofAfrica, the sheep runs of Australia were all mentioned in turn, asadventure after adventure fell from his lips. And mixed up with thesegeographical accounts were thrilling tales of treasure-hunting, ofescapes from savages, of perilous deeds in the secret places of greatcities; and details of blood, and war, and lust, and hate, all told in afiercely dramatic fashion. The man was a tramp, a gipsy, a ragged,penniless rolling-stone; but in his own way he was a genius. Cargrimwondered, with all his bravery, and endurance, and resource, that he hadnot made his fortune. The eloquent scamp seemed to wonder also.
'For,' said he, striking the table with his fist, 'I have never beenable to hold what I won. I've been a millionaire twice over, but thegold wouldn't stay; it drifted away, it was swept away, it vanished,like Macbeth's witches, into thin air. Look at me, you country cabbages!I've reigned a king amongst savages. A poor sort of king, say you; but aking's a king, say I; and king I have been. Yet here I am, sitting in aBeorminster gutter, but I don't stay in it. By ----,' he confirmed hispurpose with an oath, 'not I. I've got my plans laid, and they'll liftme up to the stars yet.'
'Hev you the money, mister?' inquired a sceptical listener.
'What's that to you?' cried Jentham, and finished his drink. 'Yes, Ihave money!' He set down his empty glass with a bang. 'At least I knowwhere to get it. Bah! you fools, one can get blood out of a stone if oneknows how to go about it. I know! I know! My Tom Tiddler's ground isn'tfar from your holy township,' and he began to sing,--
'Southberry Heath's Tom Tiddler's ground, Gold and silver are there to be found. It's dropped by the priest, picked up by the knave, For the one is a coward, the other is brave.
More brandy, waiter; make it stiff, sonny! stiff! stiff! stiff!'
The man's wild speech and rude song were unintelligible to his stupid,drink-bemused audience; but the keen brain of the schemer lurking nearthe door picked up their sense at once. Dr Pendle was the priest who wasto drop the money on Southberry Heath, and Jentham the knave who was topick it up. As certainly as though the man had given chapter and verse,Cargrim understood his enigmatic stave. His mind flashed back to thememory that Dr Pendle intended to ride over to Southberry in themorning, across the heath. Without doubt he had agreed to meet therethis man who boasted that he could get blood out of a stone, and theobject of the meeting was to bribe him to silence. But however looselyJentham alluded to his intention of picking up gold, he was cunningenough, with all his excitement, to hold his tongue as to how he couldwork such a miracle. Undoubtedly there was a secret between Dr Pendleand this scamp; but what it might be, Cargrim could by no means guess.Was Jentham a disreputable relation of the bishop's? Had Dr Pendlecommitted a crime in his youth for which he was now being blackmailed?What could be the nature of the secret which gave this unscrupulousblackguard a hold on a dignitary of the Church? Cargrim's brain wasquite bewildered by his conjectures.
Hitherto Jentham had been in the blabbing stage of intoxication, butafter another glass of drink he relapsed into a sullen, silentcondition, and with his eyes on the table pulled fiercely at his pipe,so that his wicked face looked out like that of a devil from amid therolling clouds of smoke. His audience waited open-mouthed for morestories, but as their entertainer seemed too moody to tell them anymore, they began to talk amongst themselves, principally about horsesand dogs. It was now growing late, and the most respectable of the crowdwere moving homeward. Cargrim felt that to keep up the dignity of hiscloth he should depart also; for several looks of surprise were cast inhis direction. But Jentham and his wild speeches fascinated him, and helurked in his corner, watching the sullen face of the man until the twowere left the sole occupants of the room. Then Jentham looked up to callthe waiter to bring him a final drink, and his eyes met those of MrCargrim. After a keen glance he suddenly broke into a peal of discordantlaughter, which died away into a savage and menacing growl.
'Hallo!' he grumbled, 'here is the busybody of Beorminster. And what mayyou want, Mr Paul Pry?'
'A little civility in the first place, my worthy friend,' said Cargrim,in silky tones, for he did not relish the insolent tone of the satiricalscamp.
'I am no friend to spies!'
'How dare you speak to me like that, fellow?'
'You call me a fellow and I'll knock your head off,' cried Jentham,rising with a savage look in his eyes. 'If you aren't a spy why do youcome sneaking round here?'
'I came to see Mrs Mosk,' explained the chaplain, in a mighty dignifiedmanner, 'but she is asleep, so I could not see her. In passing the doorof this room I heard you relating your adventures, and I naturallystopped to listen.'
'To hear if I had anything to say about my visit to your bishop, Isuppose?' growled Jentham, unpleasantly. 'I have a great mind to tellhim how you watch me, you infernal devil-dodger!'
'Respect my cloth, sir.'
'Begin by respecting it yourself, d---- you. What would his lordship ofBeorminster say if he knew you were here?'
'His lordship does know.'
Jentham started. 'Perhaps he sent you?' he said, looking doubtful.
'No, he did not,' contradicted Cargrim, who saw that nothing was to belearned while the man was thus bemused with drink. 'I have told you thereason of my presence here. And as I am here, I warn you, as aclergyman, not to drink any more. You have already had more thanenough.'
Jentham was staggered by the boldness of the chaplain, and stared at himopen-mouthed; then recovering his speech, he poured forth such a volleyof vile words at Cargrim that the chaplain stepped to the door andcalled the landlord. He felt that it was time for him to assert himself.
'This man is drunk, Mosk,' said he, sharply, 'and if you keep such acreature on your premises you will get into trouble.'
'Creature yourself!' cried Jentham, advancing towards Cargrim. 'I'llwring your neck if you use such language to me. I've killed fifty bettermen than you in my time. Mosk!' he turned with a snarl on the landlord,'get me a drink of brandy.'
'I think you've had enough, Mr Jentham,' said the landlord, with aglance at Cargrim, 'and you know you owe me money.'
'Curse you, what of that?' raved Jentham, stamping. 'Do you think I'llnot pay you?'
'I've not seen the colour of your money lately.'
'You'll see it when I choose. I'll have hundreds of pounds nextweek--hundreds;' and he broke out fiercely, 'get me more brandy; don'tmind that devil-dodger.'
'Go to bed,' said Mosk, retiring, 'go to bed.'
Jentham ran after him with an angry cry, so Cargrim, feeling himselfsomewhat out of place in this pot-house row, nodded to Mosk and left thehotel with as much dignity as he could muster. As he went, t
he burden ofJentham's last speech--'hundreds of pounds! hundreds of pounds!'--rangin his ears; and more than ever he desired to examine the bishop'scheque-book, in order to ascertain the exact sum. The secret, hethought, must indeed be a precious one when the cost of its preservationran into three figures.
When Cargrim emerged into the street it was still filled with people, asten o'clock was just chiming from the cathedral tower. The gossipers hadretired within, and lights were gleaming in the upper windows of thehouses; but knots of neighbours still stood about here and there,talking and laughing loudly. Cargrim strolled slowly down the streettowards the Eastgate, musing over his late experience, and enjoying thecoolness of the night air after the sultry atmosphere of thecoffee-room. The sky was now brilliant with stars, and a silver moonrolled aloft in the blue arch, shedding down floods of light on thetown, and investing its commonplace aspect with something of romance.The streets were radiant with the cold, clear lustre; the shadows castby the houses lay black as Indian ink on the ground; and the laughterand noise of the passers-by seemed woefully out of place in this magicalwhite world.
Cargrim was alive to the beauty of the night, but was too much taken upwith his thoughts to pay much attention to its mingled mystery of shadowand light. As he took his musing way through the wide streets of themodern town, he was suddenly brought to a standstill by hearing thevoice of Jentham some distance away. Evidently the man had quarrelledwith the landlord, and had been turned out of the hotel, for he camerolling along in a lurching, drunken manner, roaring out a wild andsavage ditty, picked up, no doubt, in some land at the back of beyond.
'Oh, I have treked the eight world climes, And sailed the seven seas: I've made my pile a hundred times, And chucked the lot on sprees.
But when my ship comes home, my lads, Why, curse me, don't I know The spot that's worth, the blooming earth, The spot where I shall go.
They call it Callao! for oh, it's Callao. For on no condition Is extradition Allowed in Callao.'
Jentham roared and ranted the fierce old chanty with as much gusto andnoise as though he were camping in the waste lands to which the songapplied, instead of disturbing the peace of a quiet English town. As histhin form came swinging along in the silver light, men and women drewback with looks of alarm to let him pass, and Cargrim, not wishing tohave trouble with the drunken bully, slipped into the shadow of a houseuntil he passed. As usual, there was no policeman visible, and Jenthamwent bellowing and storming through the quiet summer night like thedissolute ruffian he was. He was making for the country in the directionof the palace, and wondering if he intended to force his way into thehouse to threaten Dr Pendle, the chaplain followed immediately behind.But he was careful to keep out of sight, as Jentham was in just theexcited frame of mind to draw a knife: and Cargrim, knowing his lawlessnature, had little doubt but that he had one concealed in his boot ortrouser belt. The delicate coward shivered at the idea of arough-and-tumble encounter with an armed buccaneer.
On went Jentham, swinging his arms with mad gestures, and followed bythe black shadow of the chaplain, until the two were clear of the town.Then the gipsy turned down a shadowy lane, cut through a footpath, andwhen he emerged again into the broad roadway, found himself opposite theiron gates of the episcopalian park. Here he stopped singing and shookhis fist at them.
'Come out, you devil-dodger!' he bellowed savagely. 'Come out and giveme money, or I'll shame you before the whole town, you clericalhypocrite.' Then he took a pull at a pocket-flask.
Cargrim listened eagerly in the hope of hearing something definite, andJentham gathered himself together for further denunciation of thebishop, when round the corner tripped two women, towards whom hisdrunken attention was at once attracted. With a hoarse chuckle he reeledtowards them.
'Come along m' beauty,' he hiccuped, stretching out his arms, 'here'syour haven. Wine and women! I love them both.'
The women both shrieked, and rushed along the road, pursued by theruffian. Just as he laid rude hands on the last one, a young man cameracing along the footpath and swung into the middle of the road. Thenext moment Jentham lay sprawling on his back, and the lady assaultedwas clinging to the arm of her preserver.
'Why, it's Mab!' said the young man, in surprise.
'George!' cried Miss Arden, and burst into tears. 'Oh, George!'
'Curse you both!' growled Jentham, rising slowly. 'I'll be even with youfor that blow, my lad.'
'I'll kick you into the next field if you don't clear out,' retortedGeorge Pendle. 'Did he hurt you, Mab?'
'No! no! but I was afraid. I was at Mrs Tears, and was coming home withEllen, when that man jumped on to us. Oh! oh! oh!'
'The villain!' cried Captain Pendle; 'who is he?'
It was at this moment that, all danger being over, Cargrim judged itjudicious to emerge from his retreat. He came forward hurriedly, asthough he had just arrived on the scene.
'What is the matter?' he exclaimed. 'I heard a scream. What, CaptainPendle! Miss Arden! This is indeed a surprise.'
'Captain Pendle!' cried Jentham. 'The son of the bishop. Curse him!'
George whirled his stick and made a dash at the creature, but wasrestrained by Mab, who implored him not to provoke further quarrels.
George took her arm within his own, gave a curt nod to the chaplain,whom he suspected had seen more of the affray than he chose to admit,and flung a word to Jentham.
'Clear out, you dog!' he said, 'or I'll hand you over to the police.Come, Mab, yonder is Ellen waiting for you. We'll join her, and I shallsee you both home.'
Jentham stood looking after the three figures with a scowl. 'You'll handme over to the police, George Pendle, will you?' he muttered, loudenough for Cargrim to overhear. 'Take care I don't do the same thing toyour father,' and like a noisome and dangerous animal he crept back inthe shadow of the hedge and disappeared.
'Aha!' chuckled Cargrim, as he walked towards the park gates, 'it has todo with the police, then, my lord bishop. So much the better for me, somuch the worse for you.'