CHAPTER THREE
THE DEAD MAN
Lauriston was thinking about Zillah at the very moment in which shespoke to him: the memory of her dark eyes and the friendly smile thatshe had given him as he left the pawnshop had come as a relief in themidst of his speculations as to his immediate future. And now, as hesaw her real self, close to him, evidently disposed to be friendly, heblushed like any girl, being yet at that age when shyness was still apart of his character. Zillah blushed too--but she was moreself-possessed than Lauriston.
"I've been talking to my Cousin Melky about you," she said quickly."Or, rather, he's been talking to me. He says he's going to introduceyou to a man who wants his catalogue put in shape--for five pounds.Don't you do it for five pounds! I know that man--charge him ten!"
Lauriston moved away with her down the walk.
"Oh, but I couldn't do that, now!" he said eagerly. "You see I promisedI'd do it for five."
Zillah gave him a quick glance.
"Don't you be silly!" she said. "When anybody like Melky offers youfive pounds for anything, ask them double. They'll give it. You don'tknow much about money matters, do you?"
Lauriston laughed, and gaining confidence, gave the girl a knowing look.
"Not much," he admitted, "else I wouldn't have had to do that bit ofbusiness with you the other day."
"Oh--that!" she said indifferently. "That's nothing. You'd beastonished if you knew what sort of people just have to run round tous, now and then--I could tell you some secrets! But--I guessed youweren't very well up in money matters, all the same. Writing peopleseldom are."
"I suppose you are?" suggested Lauriston.
"I've been mixed up in them all my life, more or less," she answered."Couldn't help being, with my surroundings. You won't think meinquisitive if I ask you something? Were you--hard up--when you cameround the other night?"
"Hard up's a mild term," replied Lauriston, frankly. "I hadn't a penny!"
"Excepting a gold watch worth twelve or fifteen pounds," remarkedZillah, drily. "And how long had you been like that?"
"Two or three days--more or less," answered Lauriston. "You see, I'vebeen expecting money for more than a week--that was it."
"Has it come?" she asked.
"No--it hasn't," he replied, with a candid blush. "That's a fact!"
"Will it come--soon?" she demanded.
"By George!--I hope so!" he exclaimed. "I'll be hard up again, if itdoesn't."
"And then you offer to do for five what you might easily get ten for!"she said, almost reproachfully. "Let me give you a bit of advice--neveraccept a first offer. Stand out for a bit more--especially from anybodylike my cousin Melky."
"Is Melky a keen one, then?" enquired Lauriston.
"Melky's a young Jew," said Zillah, calmly. "I'm not--I'mhalf-and-half--a mixture. My mother was Jew--my father wasn't. Well--ifyou want money to be going on with, and you've got any more goldwatches, you know where to come. Don't you ever go with empty pocketsin London while you've got a bit of property to pledge! You're not aLondoner, of course?"
"I'm a Scotsman!" said Lauriston.
"To be sure--I knew it by your tongue," asserted Zillah. "And trying tomake a living by writing! Well, you'll want courage--and money. Haveyou had any luck?"
"I've sold two stories," answered Lauriston, who by that time wasfeeling as if the girl was an old friend. "They come to twenty poundsfor the two, at the rate that magazine pays, and I've asked for acheque--it's that I'm waiting for. It ought to come--any time."
"Oh, but I know that game!" said Zillah. "I've two friends--girls--whowrite. I know how they have to wait--till publication, or till nextpay-day. What a pity that some of you writers don't follow some otherprofession that would bring in a good income--then you could do yourwriting to please yourselves, and not be dependent on it. Haven't youthought of that?"
"Often!" answered Lauriston. "And it wouldn't do--for me, anyway. I'vemade my choice. I'll stick to my pen--and swim or sink with it. And I'mnot going to sink!"
"That's the way to talk--to be sure!" said the girl. "But--keepyourself in money, if you can. Don't go without money for three dayswhen you've anything you can raise money on. You see how practical Iam! But you've got to be in this world. Will you tell me something?"
"It strikes me," answered Lauriston, looking at her narrowly andbringing the colour to her cheeks, "that I'm just about getting tothis--that I'd tell you anything! And so--what is it?"
"How much money have you left?" she asked softly.
"Precisely a shilling--and a copper or two," he answered.
"And--if that cheque doesn't arrive?" she suggested.
"Maybe I'll be walking round to Praed Street again," he said, laughing."I've a bit of what you call property, yet."
The girl nodded, and turned towards a side-walk that led across theGardens.
"All right," she said. "Don't think me inquisitive--I don't like tothink of--of people like you being hard up: I'm not wrapped up inbusiness as much as all that. Let's talk of something else--tell mewhat you write about."
Lauriston spent the rest of that afternoon with Zillah, strolling aboutKensington Gardens. He had lived a very lonely life since coming toLondon, and it was a new and pleasant experience to him to have anintelligent companion to talk to. There was a decided sense ofexhilaration within him when he finally left her; as for Zillah, shewent homewards in a very thoughtful mood, already conscious that shewas more than half in love with this good-looking lad who had come sostrangely into her life. And at the corner of Praed Street she ran upagainst Mr. Melky Rubinstein, and button-holed him, and for ten minutestalked seriously to him. Melky, who had good reasons of his own forkeeping in his cousin's favour, listened like a lamb to all she had tosay, and went off promising implicit obedience to her commandments.
"Zillah ain't half gone on that chap!" mused Melky, as he pursued hisway. "Now, ain't it extraordinary that a girl who'll come into aperfect fortune should go and fall head over ears in love with ared-headed young feller what ain't got a penny to bless hisself with!Not but what he ain't got good looks--and brains. And brains is brains,when all's said!"
That night, as Lauriston sat writing in his shabby little room, a knockcame at his door--the door opened, and Melky slid in, laying his fingerto the side of his large nose in token of confidence.
"Hope I ain't interrupting," said Melky. "I say, mister, I beenthinking about that catalogue business. Now I come to sort of reflecton it, I think my friend'll go to ten pound. So we'll say tenpound--what? And I'll take you to see him next Friday. And I say,mister--if a pound or two on account 'ud be of any service--say theword, d'ye see?"
With this friendly assurance, Melky plunged his hand into a hip-pocket,and drew out some gold, which he held towards Lauriston on his openpalm.
"Two or three pound on account, now, mister?" he said, ingratiatingly."You're welcome as the flowers in May!"
But Lauriston shook his head; he had already decided on a plan of hisown, if the expected remittance did not arrive next morning.
"No, thank you," he answered. "It's uncommonly good of you--but I canmanage very well indeed--I can, really! Next Friday, then--I'll go withyou. I'm very much obliged to you."
Melky slipped his money into his pocket--conscious of having done hispart. "Just as you like, mister," he said. "But you was welcome, youknow. Next Friday, then--and you can reckon on cash down for this job."
The Monday morning brought neither of the expected letters toLauriston. But he had not spoken without reason when he said to Zillahthat he had a bit of property to fall back upon--now that he knew howready money could easily be raised. He had some pledgeable property inhis trunk--and when the remittances failed to arrive, he determined toavail himself of it. Deep down in a corner of the trunk he had twovaluable rings--all that his mother had left him, with the exception oftwo hundred pounds, with which he had ventured to London, and on whichhe had lived up to then. He got the rings out towards the end of Mondayafte
rnoon, determining to take them round to Daniel Multenius and raisesufficient funds on them to last him for, at any rate, another month ortwo. He had little idea of the real value of such articles, and he hadreasons of his own for not showing the rings to Melky Rubinstein; hisnotion was to wait until evening, when he would go to the pawnshop atabout the same time as on his previous visit, in the hope of findingZillah in charge again. After their meeting and talk of the afternoonbefore, he felt that she would do business with him in a sympatheticspirit--and if he could raise twenty pounds on the rings he would befree of all monetary anxiety for many a long week to come.
It was half-past five o'clock of that Monday evening when Lauriston,for the second time, turned into the narrow passage which led to thepawnshop door. He had already looked carefully through the streetwindow, in the hope of seeing Zillah inside the front shop. But therewas no Zillah to be seen; the front shop was empty. Nor did Zillahconfront him when he stepped into the little boxed-in compartment inthe pawnshop. There was a curious silence in the place--broken only bythe quiet, regular ticking of a clock. That ticking grew oppressiveduring the minute or two that he waited expecting somebody to stepforward. He rapped on the counter at last--gently at first, then moreinsistently. But nobody came. The clock--hidden from his sight--went onticking.
Lauriston bent over the counter at last and craned his neck to lookinto the open door of a little parlour which lay behind the shop. Thenext instant, with no thought but of the exigencies of the moment, hehad leapt over the partition and darted into the room. There, stretchedout across the floor, his head lying on the hearthrug, his hands lyinginert and nerveless at his sides, lay an old man, grey-bearded,venerable--Daniel Multenius, no doubt. He lay very still, verystatuesque--and Lauriston, bending over and placing a trembling hand onthe high, white forehead, knew that he was dead.
He started up--his only idea that of seeking help. The whole place wasso still that he knew he was alone with the dead in it. Instinctively,he ran through the front shop to the street door--and into the arms ofa man who was just entering.