CHAPTER XXVIII
STEPHEN'S TALE
My grandfather was uncommonly silent all that day, after his interviewwith Conolly. He bade me good night when I went to bed, and kissed me;but he said no more, though he sat by my bed till I fell asleep, whileJoe attended the bar.
I had a way, now and again, of waking when the bar was closed--perhapsbecause of the noise; and commonly at these times I lay awake tillGrandfather Nat came to bed, to bid him good night once more. It was sothis night, the night of nights. I woke at the shouting and thestumbling into the street, and lay while the bar was cleared, and thedoors banged and fastened.
My grandfather seemed to stay uncommonly long; and presently, as thenight grew stiller, I was aware of voices joined in conversation below.I wondered greatly who could be talking with Grandfather Nat at thishour, and I got out of bed to listen at the stair-head. It could not beBill Stagg, for the voices were in the bar-parlour, and not in thestore-place behind; and it was not Joe the potman, for I had heard himgo, and I knew his step well. I wondered if Grandfather Nat would mindif I went down to see.
I was doubtful, and I temporised; I began to put on some clothes,listening from time to time at the stair-head, in hope that I mightrecognise the other voice. But indeed both voices were indistinct, and Icould not distinguish one from the other. And then of a sudden thestairfoot door opened, and my grandfather came upstairs, heavy and slow.
I doubted what he might say when he saw my clothes on, but he seemed notto notice it. He brought a candle in from the landing, and he lookedstrangely grave--grave with a curious composure. He went to the littlewall-cupboard at his bed-head, and took out the cash-box, which had notbeen downstairs since the pale man had ceased work. "Stevy, my boy," hesaid, "have you said your prayers?"
"Yes, grandfather."
"An' didn't forget Gran'father Nat?"
"No, grandfather, I never forget you."
"Good boy, Stevy." He took the leather pocket-book from the box, andknelt by my side, with his arm about me. "Stevy," he said, "here's thismoney. It ain't ours, Stevy, neither yours nor mine, an' we've no rightto it. I kept it for you, but I did wrong; an' worse, I was leadin' youwrong. Will you give it up, Stevy?"
"Why, yes, grandfather." Truly that was an easy enough thing to say; andin fact I was in some way pleased to know that my mother had been right,after all.
"Right, Stevy; be an honest boy always, and an honest man--better thanme. Since I was a boy like you, I've gone a long way wrong, an' I'vebeen a bad man, Stevy, a bad man some ways, at least. An' now, Stevy,I'm goin' away--for a bit. Presently, when I'm gone, you can go to thestairs an' call Bill Stagg--he'll come at once. Call Bill Stagg--he'llstay with you to-night. You don't mind Bill Stagg, do you?"
Bill Stagg was an excellent friend of mine, and I liked his company; butI could not understand Grandfather Nat's going away. Where was he going,and why, so late at night?
"Never mind that just now, Stevy. I'm going away--for a bit; an'whatever happens you'll always say prayers night an' mornin' forGran'father Nat, won't you? An' be a good boy."
There was something piteous now in my grandfather's hard, grave face."Don't go, grandfather," I pleaded, with my arm at his neck, "don't go!Grandfather Nat! You're not--not going to die, are you?"
"That's as God wills, my boy. We must all die some day."
I think he was near breaking down here; but at the moment a voice calledup the stairs.
"Are you coming?" said the voice. "Time's nearly up!" And it frightenedme more than I can say to know this second voice at last for Viney's.
But my grandfather was firm again at once. "Yes," he cried, "I'mcoming!... No more to do, Stevy--snivelling's no good." And thenGrandfather Nat put his hands clumsily together, and shut his eyes likea little child. "God bless an' save this boy, whatever happens. Amen,"said Grandfather Nat.
Then he rose and took from the cash-box the watch that the broken-nosedman had sold. "There's that, too," he said musingly. "I dunno why I kep'it so long." And with that he shut the cash-box, and strode across tothe landing. He looked back at me for a moment, but said nothing; andthen descended the stairs.
Bewildered and miserably frightened, I followed him.
I could neither reason nor cry out, and I had an agonised hope that Iwas not really awake, and that this was just such a nightmare as hadafflicted me on the night of the murder at our door. I crouched on thelower stairs, and listened....
"Yes, I've got it," said my grandfather, answering an eager question."There it is. Look at that--count the notes."
I heard a hasty scrabbling of paper.
"Right?" asked my grandfather.
"Quite right," Viney answered; and there was exultation in his voice.
"Pack 'em up--put 'em safe in your pocket. Quite safe? There's thewatch, too; I paid for that."
"Oh, the watch? Well, all right, I don't mind having that too, sinceyou're pressing.... You might ha' saved a deal of trouble, yours an'mine too, if you'd done all this before."
"Yes, you're right; but I clear up all now. You've got the notes allquite safe, have you?"
"All safe." There was the sound of a slap on a breast-pocket.
"And the watch?"
"Ay; and the watch."
"Good!..."
I heard a bounce and a gasp of terror; and then my grandfather's voiceagain. "Come! Come, Viney! We'll be quits to the end. We're bad menboth, an' we'll go to the police together. Bring your papers, Viney!Tell 'em about the _Florence_ an' Dan Webb, an' I'll tell 'em about the_Juno_ an' my boy! I've got my witnesses--an' I'll find more--a dozen toyour one! Come, Viney! I'll have justice done now, on both of us!"
I could stay no longer. Viney was struggling desperately, reasoning,entreating. I pushed open the staircase door, but neither seemed to noteme. My grandfather had Viney by arm and collar, and was shaking him,face downward.
"I'll go halves, Kemp--I'll go halves," Viney gasped hoarsely. "Dividehow you like--but don't, don't be a fool! Take five hundred! Think o'the boy!"
"I've thought of the boy, an' I've thought of his father! God'll mindthe boy you've made an orphan! Come!"
My grandfather flung wide the door, and tumbled Viney up the steps intothe court. The little table with the lamp on it rocked from a kick, andI saved it by sheer instinct, for I was sick with terror.
I followed into the court, and saw my grandfather now nearly at thestreet corner, hustling and dragging his prisoner. "Dan! Dan!" Viney wascrying, struggling wildly. "Dan! I've got it! Draw him off me, Dan! Gofor the kid an' draw him off! Go for the kid on the stairs!"
And I could see a man come groping between the wall and the posts, ahand feeling from one post to the next, and the stick in the other handscraping the wall. I ran out to the farther side of the alley.
Viney's shout distracted my grandfather's attention, and I saw himlooking anxiously back. With that Viney took his chance, and flunghimself desperately round the end post. His collar went with a rip, andhe ran. For a moment my grandfather stood irresolute, and I ran towardhim. "I am safe here," I cried. "Come away, grandfather!"
But when he saw me clear of the groping man, he turned and dashed afterViney; while from the bar-parlour I heard a curse and a crash of brokenglass. I vaguely wondered if Viney's confederate were smashing windowsin the partition; and then I ran my hardest after Grandfather Nat.
Viney had made up the street toward the bridge and Ratcliff Highway, andCaptain Nat pursued with shouts of "Stop him!" Breathless and unsteady,I made slow progress with my smaller legs over the rough cobble-stones,which twisted my feet all ways as I ran. But I was conscious of agathering of other cries ahead, and I struggled on, with throbbing headand bursting heart. Plainly there were more shouts as I neared thecorner, and a running of more men than two. And when the corner wasturned, and the bridge and the lock before me, I saw that the chase wasover.
Three bull's-eye lanterns were flashing to and fro, pointing their longrays down on the black dock-water, and the poli
cemen who directed themwere calling to dockmen on the dark quay, who cried back, and ran, andcalled again.
"Man in!" cried one and another, hurrying in from the Highway. "Fell offthe lock." "No, he cut his lucky, an' headered in!" "He didn't, I tellye!" "Yes, he did! Why, I see 'im!"
I could not see my grandfather; and for a moment my thumping heart stoodstill and sick with the fear that it was he who was drowning in thedock. Then a policeman swung his lantern across to the opposite side,and in the passing flash Grandfather Nat's figure stood hard and clearfor an instant and no more. He was standing midway on the lock, staringand panting, and leaning on a stanchion.
With a dozen risks of being knocked into the dock by excited onlookers,I scrambled down to the lock and seized the first stanchion. It creakedand tottered in my hand, but I went forward, gripping at the swayingchain and keeping foothold on the slippery, uneven timbers I knew nothow. Sometimes the sagging chain would give till I felt myself pitchingheadlong, only to be saved by the check of the stanchion against theside of the socket; and once the chain hung so low, where it had slippedthrough the next stanchion-eye, that I had no choice but to let go, andplunged in the dark for the next upright--it might have been to plungeinto space. "Grandfather Nat! Grandfather Nat!"
I reached him somehow at last, and caught tight at his wrist. He wasleaning on the stanchion still, and staring at the dark water. "Here Iam, grandfather," I said, "but I am frightened. Stay with me, please!"
For a little while he still peered into the gloom. Then he turned andsaid quietly: "I've lost him, Stevy. He went over--here."
By the sweep of his hand I saw what had happened, though I could scarcerealise the whole matter then and there. As I presently learnt, however,Viney was running full for the bridge, with Captain Nat shouting behindhim, when he saw the lanterns of the three policemen barring the bridgeas they came on their beat from the Highway. To avoid them he swungaside and made for the lock, with his pursuer hard at his heels. Now alock of that sort joins in an angle or mitre at the middle, where thetwo sides meet like a valve, pointing to resist the tide; so that thehazardous path along the top turns off sharply midway. Flying headlong,with thought of nothing but the avenger behind him, Viney overran theangle, meeting the low chain full under his knees; and so was gone, witha yell and a splash.
Grandfather Nat took me by the collar, and turned me round. "We'll getback, Stevy," he said. "Go on, I'll hold you tight."
And so in the pitchy dark I went back along the way I had come, walkingbefore my grandfather as I had done when first I saw that lock. Thedockmen had flung random life-buoys, and now were groping with drags andhooks. Some judged that the man must have gone under like a stone;others thought it quite likely that a good swimmer might have got awayquietly. And everybody wished to know who the man was, and why he wasrunning.
To all such questions my grandfather made the same answer. "It was a manI wanted, wanted bad, for the police. You find him, dead or alive, an'I'll identify him, an' say the rest in the proper place; that's all."Only once he amplified this answer, and then he said: "You can judge hewas as much afraid o' the police as he was o' me, or more. Look where hewent, when he saw 'em on the bridge!" And again he repeated: "I'll saythe rest when he's found, not before; an' nobody can make me."
He was calm and cool enough now, as I could feel as well as hear, for myhand was buried in his, while he pushed his way stolidly through thelittle crowd. As for myself, I could neither think, nor speak, norlaugh, nor cry, though dizzily conscious of an impulse to do all four atonce. I had Grandfather Nat again, and now he would not go away; that Icould realise; and I clung with all my might to as much of his hand as Icould grip.