CHAPTER SEVEN.
MISCHIEF BREWING.
David Laidlaw was one of those comfortably constituted men who eatheartily, sleep profoundly, and lie thinking in bed in the mornings--when awake--with philosophic intensity.
On the morning after his first day in London our hero's mind had tograpple with the perplexing question, whether it was possible that a manwith a jovial face, a hearty manner, well-off to all appearance in aworldly point of view, and who chanced to have a man's money at hismercy yet did not take it, _could_ be a deceiver and in league withthieves. Impossible! Yet there were the damaging facts that Mr Spivinhad introduced a thief to him as a true and converted man, and that thisthief, besides denying his own conversion, had pronounced him--Spivin--ablack-hearted villain!
"It bothers me!" said David at length, getting over the side of the bed,and sitting there for some time abstractedly stroking his chin.
Pondering the subject deeply, he dressed, called for breakfast, metSpivin with a quiet "guid-mornin', freen," said that he had had "apleesant time o't i' the slums," and then went out to visit his friendsin Cherub Court. Before going, however, he removed his money from hisbag, put it in an inner breast-pocket, and paid his bill.
"You won't be back to dinner, I suppose," said the landlord in hisgenial manner.
"Na. I'm gaun to plowter aboot a' day an' see the toon. I may be lateo' comin' in, but ye'll keep my bed for me, an' tak' care o' my bag."
Spivin said he would do so with such hearty goodwill that David said,mentally, "He's innocent."
At the moment a tall dark man with a sharp intelligent expressionentered the house and bade the landlord good-morning. The latterstarted, laughed, winked, glanced expressively at the Scotsman, andreturned the stranger's salute in a tone that induced David to say,mentally, "He's guilty."
Gravely pondering these contradictory opinions, our hero walked alonguntil he found himself close to the alley which led into Cherub Court.A female yell issued from the alley as he came up, and Mrs Rampysuddenly appeared in a state of violent self-assertion. She was astrong, red-faced woman, who might have been born a man, perhaps, withadvantage. She carried a broken-lipped jug, and was on her way to theshop which was at least the second cause of all her woes.
Standing aside to let the virago pass, Laidlaw proceeded to the court,where, to his great surprise, he found Tommy Splint sitting on adoorstep, not exactly in tears, but with disconsolation deeply impressedon his dirty young face.
"Eh, laddie, what's wrang?" exclaimed the Scot, his mind revertinganxiously, and strangely enough, to the "waux doll."
"O, Mr Laidlow" exclaimed the boy.
"Na, na," interrupted David, "I'm no laid _low_ yet, though the Lun'onfolk hae done their best to bring me t' that condeetion. My name'sLaid-law, laddie. Freen's ca' me David, an' ye may do the same; but forony sake dinna use that English D_ai_vid. I canna thole that. Use thelang, braid, Bible a. But what's the maitter wi' ye?"
"Well, Mr Da-a-a-vid," returned the boy, unable to resist a touch offun even in his distress, "they've bin an' dismissed our Susy, wot's asgood as gold; so she's hout o' work, and chimley-pot Liz she's fit tobreak 'er hold 'art, 'cause she ain't able to earn enough now to pay therent of 'er room, an' the landlord, what's a lawyer, 'e is, says twoweeks' rent is overdue, and 'e'll turn 'er hout into the streetto-morrer if it's not paid."
"That's bad news, Tammy," said Laidlaw, thrusting both hands into hispockets, and looking meditatively at the ground. "But why doesna SamBlake, the waux--, I mean Susy's faither, lend them the siller?"
"'Cause he's gone to Liverpool for somethink or other about 'is wessel,an' left no address, an' won't be back for two or three days, an' theold ooman ain't got a friend on 'arth--leastwise not a rich 'un who can'elp 'er."
"Hoots, laddie, ye're wrang! _I_ can help her."
"Ah, but," said the boy, still in tones of disconsolation, "you don'tknow chimley-pot Liz. She's proud, she is, an' won't take nuffin fromstrangers."
"Weel, weel, but I'm no'--a stranger, callant."
"I rather think you are!" replied the boy, with a knowing look.
"Ye may be richt. Weel, I'll no' gi'e them the chance to refuse.What's the name of the lawyer-body that's their landlord?"
"Lockhart. John would be 'is Christian name if 'e _wos_ a Christian.But a cove with a Christian name as is _not_ a Christian do seem anabsurdity--don't it? They say 'e's about the greatest willian out o'Newgate. An' 'is office is somewhere near Chancery Lane."
"Weel, Christian or no Christian, I'll gi'e him a ca'," said David; "arethey up there enow?" he added, with a significant motion of his headtowards the garden on the roof.
"Yes, both of 'em--'owling. I couldn't stand it, so came down 'ere toveep alone."
"Weel, ye better stop where ye are, an' veep--as ye say--a wee whilelanger. I'll gang up to see them."
A minute more and David, tapping at the garret door, was bidden to enterby a sweet voice which caused the slightest imaginable sensation in hisheart! Susan was there alone--not 'owling, as Tommy had expressed it,but with the traces of tears obviously about her eyes. She blusheddeeply and looked a little confused as David entered, probably becauseof being caught with the signs aforesaid on her cheeks.
"Guid-mornin', Miss Blake," said David earnestly, giving the girl a warmshake of the hand. "O lassie, but I am sorry to hear that ye're introuble! I do assure ye that if a pund or twa would help yer granny--"
"'Sh, Mr Laidlaw!" said Susan, looking furtively round and speakinglow. "Granny will hear! You must not offer her money. From father,indeed, if he were here, she would accept it, but not from a--astranger."
"Am I, then, such a stranger?" asked David in a peculiar tone, for theword sounded cold and disagreeable.
Again Susan blushed, yet felt a tendency to laugh, as she replied,"Well, you know, although you _have_ helped me in trouble, it is not_very_ long since we met. But come and see granny; she's in thegarden--and, please, don't speak of our troubles."
"Weel, weel, please yersel', lassie," returned the Scot, almost sternly,as he followed Susan into the garden on the roof, where old Liz sat inher rustic chair resting her head on her hand, and looking sadly at thesunlight, which flickered through the foliage on to the zinc floor.Despite Susan's caution Laidlaw sat down beside the old woman and tookher hand.
"Noo, Mrs Morley," he said, "it's o' no use me tryin' to haud my tonguewhan I want to speak. I'm a plain north-country man, an' I canna tholeto see a puir auld body in trouble withoot offerin' t' help her. I'vebeen telt o' Susy's misfortin' an' aboot the rent, and if ye'llaccep'--"
"No, sir, no," said old Liz firmly, but without any look of that pridewith which she had been credited. "I will not accept money from--"
"But I'm no' askin' ye," interrupted David, "to accep' money as a_gift_--only as a loan, ye ken, withoot interest of course."
"Not even as a loan," said the old woman. "Besides, young man, you mustnot fancy that I am altogether penniless. I 'appen to 'ave shares in anAmerican Railway, which my landlord advised me to buy with my smallsavings. No doubt, just at present the dividend on the shares of theWashab and Roria Railway have fallen off terribly, but--"
"What railway?" asked Laidlaw quickly.
"The Washab and Roria. Somewhere in the United States," said Liz.
"H'm! I was readin' the papers yestreen," said David. "Ye see, I'mfond o' fishin' aboot odd corners o' the papers--the money market, an'stocks, an' the like--an' I noticed that vera railway--owin' to itsdaft-like name, nae doot--an' its deevidends are first-rate. Ye couldsell oot enow at a high profit gin ye like."
"Indeed? You must be mistaken, I think," replied the old woman, "for I'ave 'ad almost nothink for a year or two. You see, my landlord, whotakes charge of these matters for me--"
"That's Mr Lockhart the lawyer, ye mean?"
"Yes. He says they're losing money now, and there was no dividend atall last half-year."
"H'm! that _is_ strange
," said David, stroking his chin, "uncommon--strange!"
"D'you think Mr Lockhart has made a mistake, Mr Laidlaw?" asked Susanhopefully.
"Ay, I think he _hes_ made a mistake. But 'oo'll see. An' noo, tochange the subjec', I'll tell 'ee aboot some o' the adventur's I hadlast nicht."
From this point David Laidlaw entertained old Liz and Susy and TommySplint, who had by that time joined them, with a graphic account of hisadventures in the slums, in the telling of which he kept his audience infits of laughter, yet spoke at times with such pathos that Susan wasalmost moved to tears.
"Noo, I must away," he said at length, rising. "I've got partiklerbusiness in haund. Come wi' me, Tammy. I'll want 'ee, and I'll comeback sune to see ye, auld Liz. Dinna ye tak' on aboot losin' yer place,Su--, Miss Blake, lass. Ye'll git a better place afore lang--tak' myword for 't."
On the way down-stairs Laidlaw and his little companion passed a tallgentleman and two ladies who were ascending. Ere the foot of the stairwas reached, loud exclamations of recognition and joy were heard in theregions above.
"I say!" exclaimed Tommy Splint, with wide-open eyes, "ain't theya-goin' of it up there? Let's go back an' listen."
"Na, ye wee rascal, we'll no' gang back. If ye want to be freen's wi'me ye'll no daur to putt yer lug to keyholes. Come awa'. It's naebusiness o' yours or mine."
They had not gone far in the direction of Chancery Lane when, to theirsurprise, they met Sam Blake, who had changed his mind about the visitto Liverpool. David at once seized him by the arm, and made him walkwith them, while he explained the circumstances in which his daughterand old Liz had been so suddenly placed.
"Wouldn't it be better for me," said Sam, "to steer straight for thegarden than to go along with you?"
"Na--ye'll gang wi' me. It's plain that they hae auld freen's veesitin'them at the gairden, sae we'd better lat them alane. Besides, I want yefor a wutness; I'm no much o' a polis man, nevertheless I'm gaun to trymy haund at a bit o' detective business. Just you come wi' me, andniver say a word till ye're spoken to."
"Heave ahead then, skipper; you're in command," returned the sailor witha quiet laugh. It was echoed by little Tommy, who was hugely pleasedwith the semi-mysterious looks and nods of his Scottish friend, andregarded the turn affairs seemed to be taking as infinitely superior tomere ordinary mischief.
Arrived at Chancery Lane, they soon discovered the office of JohnLockhart, Esquire, Solicitor. Entering, they found the principal seatedat a table covered with papers and legal documents of all kinds. Boththe lawyer and the farmer felt, but did not show, some surprise onlooking at each other.
The Garret and the Garden; Or, Low Life High Up Page 7
