CHAPTER XVIII
BINDLE ASSISTS IN AN ELOPEMENT
I
When Bindle announced to Mrs. Bindle that he intended to enlist inKitchener's Army, she opened upon him the floodgates of her wrath.
"You never was a proper husband," she snapped viciously. "You'veneglected me ever since we was married. Now you want to go away andget killed. What shall I do then? What would become of me?"
"Well," said Bindle slowly, "yer would become wot they calls a widder.Then yer could marry into the chapel and you an' 'im 'ud go to 'eaven'and in 'and."
Mrs. Bindle snorted and started to rake out the kitchen fire. WheneverMrs. Bindle reached the apex of her wrath, an attack upon the kitchenfire was inevitable. Suddenly she would conceive the idea that it wasnot burning as it should burn, and she would rake and dab and pokeuntil at last forced to relight it.
Bindle watched her with interest.
"The next worst thing to bein' Mrs. Bindle's 'usband," he muttered, "isto be a bloomin' kitchen fire with 'er at the other end of a poker."Then aloud he said, "You'd get an allowance while I'm away, and apension when I dies o' killin' too many Germans."
Mrs. Bindle paused. "How much?" she asked practically.
"Oh, about a pound a week," said Bindle recklessly.
Mrs. Bindle put down the poker and proceeded to wash up. She seemedfor ever washing up or sweeping. Presently she enquired:
"When are you goin'?"
"Well," said Bindle, "I thought of trottin' round to the War Officethis afternoon and breakin' the news. It'll sort o' buck 'em up toknow that I'm comin'."
Mrs. Bindle raised no further objections.
It was Saturday afternoon, and Bindle's time was his own. He joinedthe queue outside the Recruiting Station in the Fulham Road andpatiently waited his turn, incidentally helping to pass the time ofthose around him by his pungent remarks.
"Lord!" he remarked, "we're a funny sort o' crowd to beat the Germans.Look at us: we ain't got a chest among the 'ole bloomin' lot."
At length Bindle stood before the recruiting officer, cap in hand and ahappy look on his face.
"Name?" enquired the officer.
"Joseph Bindle."
"Age?"
"Wot's the age limit?" enquired Bindle cautiously.
"Thirty-eight."
"Then put me down as thirty-seven and a 'arf," he replied.
The officer looked up quickly. There was just the suspicion of a smilein his eyes. This was the type of man he liked.
After a few more questions he was turned over to the doctor, whoordered him to strip.
After a very rapid examination the doctor remarked:
"You won't do--varicose veins."
"Beg pardon, sir?" said Bindle.
"Varicose veins," said the doctor.
"An' 'oo's 'e when 'e's at 'ome?" enquired Bindle.
"You have got varicose veins in the legs and therefore you cannotenlist." The doctor was tired and impatient.
"But ain't you got veins in your legs?" enquired Bindle. "Why can't Ibe a soldier 'cos I got various veins in me legs?"
"You couldn't stand the marching," was the reply.
"Oh, couldn't I? That's all you know about it. You should see me'oppin' in an' out of 'ouses carrying pianners an' sofas. I want toenlist." Bindle was dogged.
The doctor relented somewhat. "It's no good, my man. We cannot takeyou. I'm sorry."
"But," said Bindle, "couldn't yer put me in somethin' wot sits on an'orse, or 'angs on be'ind? I want to go."
"It's no good; I cannot pass you."
"Couldn't yer make me even a 'ighlander? Me legs ain't too thin forthat, are they?"
"It's no good!"
"Are they catchin'?" enquired Bindle, with some eagerness in his voice.
"Are what catching?"
"Various veins."
"No."
"Just my luck," grumbled Bindle, "a-gettin' somethink wot I can't 'andon."
The doctor laughed.
Finding that nothing could break down the doctor's relentless refusal,Bindle reluctantly departed.
During the week following he made application at several otherrecruiting offices, but always with the same result.
"Nothin' doin'," he mumbled. "Nothin' left for me but to become abloomin' slop. I must do somethink." And he entered the localpolice-station.
"What is it?" enquired the officer in charge.
"Come to gi' meself up," said Bindle with a grin. "Goin' to be aspecial constable and run in all me dear ole pals."
He found the interrogations here far less severe. Certain particularswere asked of him. Finally he was told that he would hear in duecourse whether or no his services were accepted.
After an interval of about a week Bindle was sworn in. A few dayslater he called once more at the police-station for his equipment. Asthe truncheon, armlet, and whistle were handed to him, he eyed thearticles dubiously, then looking up at the officer, enquired:
"This all I got to wear? It don't seem decent."
He was told that he would wear his ordinary clothes, and would beexpected to report himself for duty at a certain hour on the followingMonday.
On his way home he called in on his brother-in-law and, to the delightof Smith and the errand boy, solemnly informed Mr. Hearty of the stephe had taken.
"Now look 'ere, 'Earty," he remarked, "you got to be pretty bloomin'careful what yer up to, or yer'll get run in. Yer'd look sort o' tastywith me a-shovin' of yer from be'ind in me new uniform, a bit in each'and and the rest round me arm. S' long! an' don't yer forget it. Nolate nights. No carryin's on with the choir." And Bindle winkedknowingly at Smith and the boy.
Bindle's popularity among his brother special constables wasinstantaneous and complete. They were for the most part sent out inpairs. "'untin' in couples," Bindle called it. The man who got Bindleas a companion considered himself lucky.
If Bindle saw a pair of lovers saying good-night, he would go up tothem gravely and demand what they were doing, and warn them as to theirproper course of conduct.
"There ain't goin' to be no kissin' on my beat," he would remark, "onlywot I does meself. Why ain't you in the army, young feller?"
He never lost an opportunity of indulging his sense of the ludicrous,and he soon became known to many of those whose property it was hisduty to protect. From servant-girls he came in for many dainties, andit was not long before he learnt that the solitary special gets moreattention from the other sex than the one who "'unts in couples." As aconsequence Bindle became an adept at losing his fellow-constable. "Ican lose a special quicker than most chaps can lose a flea," heremarked once to Mrs. Bindle.
One night, about half-past nine, when on duty alone on Putney Hill,Bindle saw a man slip down one of the turnings on the left-hand side,as if desirous of avoiding observation. A moment after he heard a softwhistle. Grasping his truncheon in his right hand, Bindle slid intothe shadow of the high wall surrounding a large house. A few minuteslater he heard another whistle.
"'Ullo," he muttered, "shouldn't be surprised if there wasn't somethinkon. Now, Joe B., for the V.C. or a pauper's grave."
Creeping stealthily along under the shadow of the wall, he came closeup to the man without being observed. Just as he gave vent to thethird whistle Bindle caught him by the arm.
"Now then, young feller, wot's all this about? I 'eard you. 'OlyAngels!" Bindle exclaimed in astonishment, "where did you spring from,sir?"
It was Dick Little.
"I was just a-goin' to run you in for a burglar."
"Well, you wouldn't have been far wrong," replied Little. "I'm bent ontheft."
"Right-oh," said Bindle. "I'm with yer, special or no special. Whatare yer stealin', if it ain't a rude question?"
"A girl," Little replied.
Bindle whistled significantly.
In the course of the next five minutes Dick Little explained that hewas in love with a girl whose people disapproved of him
, and she wasbeing kept almost a prisoner in the house in question. At night he wassometimes able to get a few words with her after dinner, she mounting aladder and talking to him from the top of the garden wall.
"One of these nights," Little concluded, "we're going to make a boltfor it. By Jove!" he suddenly broke off. "You're the very man; you'llhelp, of course."
"'Elp?" said Bindle; "o' course I'll 'elp. If yer want to be madeun'appy that's your affair. If yer wants me to 'elp to make yerun'appy, that's my affair."
At this moment there was a faint whistle from farther down the road.
"I must be off," said Little. "Come round and see me on Sunday, andI'll tell you all about it."
The next Sunday night Bindle heard the whole story. Dick Little wasdesperately in love with Ethel Knob-Kerrick, the daughter of LadyKnob-Kerrick, whose discomfiture at the Barton Bridge Temperance Fetehad been due to his tampering with the lemonade. Lady Knob-Kerrick hadcome to know of clandestine meetings, and henceforth her daughter hadbeen practically a prisoner, never being allowed out of her mother'ssight or that of Miss Strint, who, although in sympathy with thelovers, was too much afraid of Lady Knob-Kerrick to render them anyassistance.
"So I'm going to bolt with her," said Dick Little.
"And very nice too," remarked Bindle, as he gazed admiringly at thephotograph of an extremely pretty brunette with expressive eyes and atilted chin.
"Funny things, women," continued Bindle. "Yer think yer've got abloomin' peach, when squash! and there is only the stone and a littlejuice left in yer 'and. Funny things, women! She'll probably nag yerinto an asylum or the Blue Boar or----"
"Shut up, Bindle!" There was a hard note in Dick Little's voice.
"All right, sir, all right," said Bindle patiently. "I'd 'ave said thesame meself when I was a-courtin' me little red-'eaded blossom. Funnythings, women!
"If it ain't rude, sir," Bindle continued after a pause, "'ave yer gotan 'ome ready? 'Cos when yer get a bird yer sort o' got to get a cage,an' if that cage ain't gold, wi' bits o' gold sort o' lyin' about,well, there'll be some feathers flyin', an' they won't be 'ers. Awoman wot ain't got money makes a man moult pretty quick. Yer'llexcuse me, sir, but I'm an old warrior at this 'ere game."
"I've bought a practice in Chelsea, and besides I've got between threeand four hundred a year," replied Little.
"H'm," said Bindle, "may keep 'er in scent an' shoe-strings. I supposeyou're set on doin' it?"
"Absolutely."
"Well, I'll 'elp yer; but it's a pity, it's always a pity when a nicechap like you gets balmy on a bit o' skirt."
"Right-oh!" said Little. "I knew you would."
A week later Bindle, wearing what he called his "uniform," met DickLittle by appointment outside Lady Knob-Kerrick's house on Putney Hill.Miss Kerrick had arranged to be ready at 9.30. Dick Little hadborrowed, through his brother, Guggers' Rolls-Royce, which, accordingto the owner, would "gug-gug-go anywhere and do anything."
Guggers volunteered to drive himself. At 9.30 the car slid silentlydown the road at the side of Lady Knob-Kerrick's house. It was a darknight and the lights were hooded. Under the shade of a huge elm, anddrawn close up against the house, no one could distinguish the car fromthe surrounding shadow.
A short ladder was placed in the tonneau and reared up against thewall. Bindle and Little both mounted the wall and waited what toLittle seemed hours. It was nearly ten o'clock before a slight soundon the gravel announced the approach of someone. A subdued whistlefrom Dick Little produced a tremulous answer. Not a word was spoken.Presently a scraping against the wall announced the placing of theladder from inside the garden, and a moment later a voice whispered:
"Is that you, Dick?"
"Yes, Ettie," was the reply. "Quick. I've got a friend here."
"It's all right, miss," whispered Bindle; "I'll catch hold of one armand Mr. Little will do ditto with the other, and 'fore you can winkyou'll be over. You ain't the screamin' sort, are yer?" he enquiredanxiously.
A little laugh answered him.
"Now then, look slippy, in case the old gal--sorry, miss, yermother--smells a rat."
It was a hot, soundless night. The atmosphere hung round them like aheavy garment saturated with moisture. Every sound seemed to bemagnified. As he finished speaking, Bindle's quick ear detected afootstep inside the garden. Bending down he whispered to Guggers:
"Start the car, sir, there's someone comin'. Come along, miss," headded.
"Ethel!" Three hearts gave a great leap at the sound of a harsh,uncompromising voice from almost beneath them.
"Ethel, where are you? You will catch your death of cold walking aboutthe garden at this time of night. Come in at once!"
It was Lady Knob-Kerrick. There was no mistaking her disapprovingvoice. Bindle grinned as he recollected the inglorious figure she hadcut at the Temperance Fete.
"Ethel, where are you?" The voice cut sharply through the still air.
"Steady, sir," whispered Bindle to Dick Little, who had lifted MissKerrick off the wall.
"I'll keep the ole gal jawin'. Tell ole Spit-and-Speak to get offquietly."
"Strint!" Lady Knob-Kerrick's voice again rang out. "Strint, whereare you?"
Bindle heard the sound of feet hastening down the path. He wasstanding on the wall, grasping with one hand the top of the ladder usedby Miss Kerrick, which reached some three feet above the top of thewall. He had taken the precaution of putting his uniform in his pocket"in case I gets nabbed," as he explained to Dick Little.
Bindle heard a suppressed "gug-gug" from Guggers, on whose head MissKerrick had alighted. He wondered why Guggers had not started theengine.
Somewhere below him he heard Lady Knob-Kerrick moving about. Would shefind the ladder? If she did, how was he to cover the retreat of thecar? He was conscious of enjoying to the full the excitement of thesituation.
"Where is Miss Knob-Kerrick?" Lady Knob-Kerrick always insisted on the"Knob." Her voice came from out of the darkness immediately belowwhere Bindle was standing.
"I'm afraid----" began another voice, that of Miss Strint, whensuddenly several things seemed to happen at once. There was atriumphant "Ah!" from Lady Knob-Kerrick, as she found the ladder andwrenched it from the wall, a yell from Bindle as he lost his balance,and an agonised shriek from Miss Strint, as she was swept from her feetby what she thought was a bomb, but what in reality was the ladder,which fell, pinning her to the earth.
"Help! Help!! Murder!!!" shrieked Lady Knob-Kerrick, until Bindlereached the ground, marvelling at the softness of the substance onwhich he had fallen, when her cries ceased suddenly and only the moansof Miss Strint were to be heard by the servants, who rushed from thehouse to the rescue.
On the other side of the wall the two occupants of the car held theirbreath, but Guggers saw in the sudden pandemonium that for which he hadbeen waiting, and the Rolls-Royce leapt forward.
"Stop, Guggers," whispered Dick Little, leaning forward, "we can'tleave him like this."
"Gug-gug-go to blazes! This is my car," was the response, as they toreup Putney Hill on the way to Walton, where Miss Kerrick was to spendthe night with Guggers' sister.
II
Five minutes later Bindle stood in Lady Knob-Kerrick's drawing-roomwith Thomas, the footman, holding one arm, and Wilton, the butler, theother. On Wilton's face was an expression of disgust at havingtemporarily to usurp the duties of the police.
Lady Knob-Kerrick had made enquiries of the servants, and was nowconvinced that her daughter had either eloped or been abducted. Herhair was disarranged, there was dirt upon her face, and leaves andmould upon her gown; but of these she was unconscious, and she regardedBindle with an expression of grim triumph. At least she had capturedone of the ruffians, probably the worst.
Bindle himself was quite self-possessed. All he desired was to gaintime so that the fugitives might get well beyond the possibility ofcapture.
"Now, look here, Calves," he remarked, ob
liquely examining thefootman's gorgeous raiment, "if you pinch I kick. See?"
Apprehensive of an attack upon his white silk legs, Thomas moved awayas far as he could, holding Bindle at arm's-length.
"I have had the police telephoned for," said Lady Knob-Kerrick grimly."Now, where is Miss Knob-Kerrick?"
"You may search me, mum," replied Bindle imperturbably.
"You were with the villains who abducted her," snapped LadyKnob-Kerrick.
"Who wot, mum?"
"Abducted her."
"I never done that to any woman. I kissed a few, but I never gonefurther. Mrs. Bindle (my name's Bindle--Joseph Bindle) is sort o'particular."
"Then you refuse to confess?" Lady Knob-Kerrick glared at Bindlethrough her lorgnettes.
"I ain't got nothin' to confess, mum; leastways nothin' I'd like to say'fore a lady. Look 'ere, Dicky-Bird, if you pinch my arm I'll breakyour bloomin' shins." This last remark was addressed to Wilton, whomBindle examined with insulting deliberation. "Must cost a bit to keepyer in clean dickies, ole son," he remarked. Wilton writhed. Bindlesuddenly caught sight of Miss Strint slipping into the room, lookingvery ill and obviously in a state bordering on hysteria.
"'Ello, miss, you do look bad. I hope you ain't 'urt." There wassolicitude in Bindle's voice.
"I am very upset and----"
"Strint!" admonished Lady Knob-Kerrick, "please be silent. How dareyou converse with this man?"
"Now look 'ere, mum, I ain't said much so far, but you're goin' to getinto a bit of a mess if yer ain't careful. If you'll just call orfDicky-Bird and Calves, I'll show yer wot an' 'oo I am. I'm a specialconstable, I am, and you done a fine thing to-night. P'r'aps yer knowthe law, p'r'aps yer don't. But this is a case for 'eavy damages.Now, Dicky-Bird, leggo!"
With a dexterous movement Bindle wrenched his arm free from Wilton'sclutch, and drew his truncheon, which he flourished under the nose ofhis astonished captors. Thomas, fearing an attack, released the arm heheld and retreated precipitately to the door.
"Thomas! Wilton!" shrieked Lady Knob-Kerrick, "hold him, don't let himescape."
"I'll keep the door, m' lady," said Thomas, his hand on the handle, hisattitude that of a man solicitous as to his own safety rather thandesirous of preventing another's escape.
With great deliberation Bindle produced his armlet and whistle.
"This 'ere, mum," holding the articles of equipment for LadyKnob-Kerrick's inspection, "is me summer uniform, but as the nights isa little bit chilly I added a pair o' trousers and a few other things."
Miss Strint tittered, and then, appalled at her own temerity, coughedviolently.
Lady Knob-Kerrick turned upon her accustomed victim.
"Strint," she cried, glaring through her lorgnettes, "have you no senseof decency?"
"She's got an awful cough, mum. Yer'd better leave 'er alone," andBindle grinned in a manner that Lady Knob-Kerrick decided wasintolerable.
"I want you to explain, mum, wot you mean by letting Calves andDicky-Bird keep a special constable from the execution of 'is duty."
Lady Knob-Kerrick looked uncertainly from Bindle to Wilton, then toMiss Strint, and then back again to Bindle.
"You were with the ruffians who have taken my daughter," she said.
"Well, mum, that's where you're sort o' wrong. I've collected whitemice and rabbits and once I had a special sort of jumpin' fleas, but Inever collected daughters. Besides, there's Mrs. Bindle. She's a bitfunny when it comes to another woman. What she'll say when she gets toknow that yer've had me 'eld 'ere, a-givin' of me the glad eye throughthem two 'oles on a stick--I tell yer, mum, I jest daren't think."
"How dare you, you vulgar fellow!" Lady Knob-Kerrick had seen theghost of a smile flit across Thomas's face. "Hold your tongue!"
"I can't, mum. Lived too long wi' Mrs. B. I'm sort o' surprised atyou 'oldin' me 'ere like this. It's like kissin' a girl against herwill."
At this juncture there was a loud ringing at the outer bell.
"Go!" said Lady Knob-Kerrick, addressing Thomas.
"Now then, 'op it, Calves," added Bindle, as he resumed his armlet.
A minute later an inspector of police entered. He bowed to LadyKnob-Kerrick and looked towards Bindle, who saluted with a suddennessso dramatic as to cause both Wilton and Thomas involuntarily to startback.
"This man has been----" Lady Knob-Kerrick paused, at a loss toformulate the charge.
"Says I've run off with 'er daughter--me! 'Oly Moses! If Mrs. Bindleonly knew!" And Bindle smiled so broadly and so joyously that even theofficial face of the inspector relaxed.
"What is the complaint, my lady?" the inspector enquired, producing hisnote-book.
"Someone has abducted my daughter and--and--we--I got this man."
Lady Knob-Kerrick was hesitant, and clearly not very sure of her ground.
She explained how she had gone into the garden in search of MissKnob-Kerrick, had come across the ladder, and how in moving it Bindlehad come crashing down upon her, and had been captured.
The inspector turned to Bindle, whom he knew as a special constable.
"This 'ere's goin' to be a serious business for 'er," Bindle indicatedLady Knob-Kerrick with his thumb. "I 'eard a whistle, then see a manon the wall and another in a motor-car. 'What-oh!' says I, 'burglarsor German spies. If I blows me whistle orf they goes.' I climbs up atree and drops on to the wall, crawls along, then I 'ears a youngwoman's voice. I jest got to the top of the ladder, frightened as agoat I was, when somebody gives it a tug. Over I tumbles on wot Ithought was a air-cushion, but it was 'er." Bindle bowed elaboratelyto Lady Knob-Kerrick, who flushed scarlet. "She nabs me when I wasgoin' to nab the lot of 'em. I might 'a got the V.C.! Silly things,women." Bindle spat the words out with supreme disgust.
The inspector turned to Lady Knob-Kerrick.
"Do you wish to charge this special constable?"
"Yes, that's it," put in Bindle. "Jest let 'er charge me. She's gotto do it now since she's 'eld me 'ere, and I'm out for damages.There's also goin' to be some damage done to Dicky-Bird and Calvesbefore I've finished." And Bindle looked fiercely from one to theother.
Lady Knob-Kerrick motioned the inspector to the other end of the room,where she held a whispered conversation with him. Presently theyreturned to Bindle. The inspector said with official coldness:
"There seems to have been a mistake, and her ladyship offers you asovereign in compensation."
"Oh, she does, does she?" remarked Bindle. "Well, jest tell 'erbloomin' ladysillyship wi' Joseph Bindle's compliments that there'snothin' doin'. A quid might 'ave been enough for a ordinary slop, butI'm a special sort o' slop and, like a special train, I 'as to be paidfor. She can stump up a fiver or----"
The inspector looked nonplussed. He was not quite sure what authorityhe had over a special constable. A further whispered conversationfollowed, and eventually Lady Knob-Kerrick left the room and a fewminutes later returned with five one-pound notes, which she handed tothe inspector without a word, and he in turn passed them on to Bindle.
"Well," Bindle remarked, "I must be off. 'Ope you'll find yourdaughter, mum; and as for you, Dicky-Bird and Calves, we'll probablymeet again. S'long." And he departed.
Bindle: Some Chapters in the Life of Joseph Bindle Page 18
