CHAPTER ELEVEN.
PUMPING AND SQUEEZING--THE GARRET CLASS, ETCETERA.
When Mr Dean succeeded, with some difficulty, in obtaining a privateinterview with Mr Spivin's servant Martha, he proceeded with muchpoliteness and subtlety to pump and squeeze her.
And it may be remarked here that Mr Dean had what Martha afterwardsstyled "a way with him" that was quite irresistible, insomuch that shewas led, somehow, to speak of things she never meant to mention, and toreveal things she never intended to confess.
"You see, sir," she said, "it's the dooty of me an' Mary to do thebedrooms w'en the family's at breakfast. Well, that morning we went asusual to Mr Laidlaw's room first, because 'e's quick with 'is meals an'wants 'is boots put in 'is room so as he may get out immediately. MrLaidlaw 'as no luggage, sir, only a shoulder-bag, an' it was lyin' openon the table, so me an' Mary looked into it just to--to--"
"To see that nothing had tumbled out," suggested Mr Dean. "Iunderstand."
"Just so, sir," assented Martha; "and there was nothink in it but aspare shirt rolled up, and a pair of socks, and a small Bible--no moneyor watch or anythink that would break even if it did tumble out,--'isshavin' things and all that being on the dressin'-table--so--"
"So your mind was relieved, Martha--well, go on."
"But as we was agoin' to close the bag," continued the girl, "weobserved an inner pocket, an' Mary says, p'raps there was a love-letterin it! I laughed an' said, `Let's look an' see.' So we looked an' sawnothink."
"You both looked and were quite sure of that?" asked Mr Dean.
"Yes, quite sure, for we both felt the pocket all round as well aslooked into it."
"Well, go on."
"Then we shut the bag, and after we had finished the room, we was justgoin' out, when master he ran up-stairs as if he was in a hurry. Hecame into the room with a bit of paper in 'is 'and, somethink like abank note, but he started on seein' us, an' crumpled up the paper an'stuffed it in 'is pocket. At the same time 'e got very angry, scoldedus for being so slow, and ordered us off to the other rooms. Not tenminutes after that in comes Mr Lockhart, the lawyer, with twopolicemen, an' seizes Mr Laidlaw, who was still at 'is breakfast. Atfirst he got very angry an' shoved one policemen over the sofa and theother into the coal-scuttle, at the same time sayin' in a growly voice,`I think--'ee've--aw--geen--mad--thee--gither'--oh, I can't speakScotch!" exclaimed Martha, bursting into a laugh.
"Better not try, my dear," said Dean, with a peculiar smile.
"Well, then," continued Martha, on recovering herself, "when thepolicemen got up again Mr Laidlaw said he had no intention of runningaway (only 'e said rinnin' awa'), and that he would go with them quietlyif they'd only be civil ('e called it seevil!), and assured them theyhad made a mistake. They _was_ more civil after that, for Mr Laidlaw'ad doubled 'is fists an' looked, oh my! like a Bengal tiger robbed ofits young ones. So they all went straight to the bedroom, and me an'Mary followed with master and missis and the waiters, an' they searchedall round the room, coming to the bag last though it was the only thingon the table, and right under their noses, an sure enough they found a50 pound note there in the little pocket!"
"And what said the Scotsman to that?" asked Mr Dean, with a slightgrin.
"He said, turning to master, `It was you did that--'ee--blagyird!'"cried Martha, again bursting into laughter at her Scotch. "And then,"continued Martha, "one of the policemen said 'e 'ad seen Mr Laidlaw notlong ago in company with a well-known thief, and the other one swore 'e'ad seen 'im the same night in a thieves' den, and that 'e washevidently on a friendly footin' wi' them for 'e 'ad refused to quit theplace, and was hinsolent. At this lawyer Lockhart shook 'is 'ead andsaid 'e thought it was a bad case, an' the poor Scotsman seemed so tookaback that 'e said nothink--only stared from one to another, and wentoff quietly to prison."
After investigating the matter a little further, and obtaining, throughMartha, a private interview with Mary, who corroborated all that herfellow-servant had said, Mr Dean went straight to Pimlico, andinterviewed the butler who had been in the service of the Weston family.Thereafter he visited Colonel Brentwood, and, in the presence of hiswife and daughter discussed the whole affair from beginning to end. Wewill spare the reader that discussion, and turn towards Newgate.
On the evening of that day poor David Laidlaw found himself in durancevile, with massive masonry around him, and a very Vesuvius ofindignation within him. Fortunately, in the afternoon of the followingday, which chanced to be Sunday, a safety valve--a sort of crater--wasallowed to him in the shape of pen, ink, and paper. Using thesematerials, he employed his enforced leisure in writing to thatreceptacle of his early and later joys and woes--his mother.
"Whar d'ye think I've gotten t' noo, mither?" the letter began. "I'm inNewgate! It's an auld gate noo-a-days, an' a bad gate onyway, for it'sa prison. Think o' that! If onybody had said I wad be in jail maist assoon as I got to Bawbylon I wad have said he was leein'! But here I am,hard an' fast, high and dry--uncom'on dry!--wi' naething but stanearoond me--stane wa's, stane ceilin', stane floor; my very hairt seemsturned to stane. Losh, woman, it bates a'!
"It's no maner o' use gaun into the hale story. A buik wad scarce ha'dit a'. The details'll keep till you an' I meet again on the braes o'Yarrow--if we iver meet there, which is by no means sure, for thaeEnglishers'll be the death o' me afore I git hame, if they gang on asthey've begood. Here's the ootline:--
"I've been thick wi' thieves, burglars, pickpockets, an' the like.Veesitin' at their dens, an' gaun aboot the streets wi' them, an' I'vestolen a fifty-pun' note, an' it's been fund i' the pouch inside my bag.That's the warst o't; but it seems that I've also resistet the polissin the dischairge o' their duty, which means that I flang ane ower asofa an' stappit anither into a coal-scuttle--though I didna mean it,puir falla, for his breeks suffered in the way that ye've aften seenmine whan I was a wee laddie. But I was roused to that extent whan theyfirst gruppit me that I couldna help it!
"I wadna mind it muckle if it wasna that I've no a freend to help me--
"I was interruptit to receive a veesiter--an' a rebuik at the same time,for he turned oot to be a freend, though a stranger, a Colonel Brentwud,wha's been cheetit by that blagyird lawyer that's tryin' to play themischief wi' _me_. But he'll fin' that I'm teuch! The Colonel saysthey'll hae nae diffeeculty in clearin' me, so let that comfort ye,mither.--Yer ill-doin' son, DAVID.
"P.S.--There's a wee laddie I've faw'n in wi' since I cam' to Bawbylon,they ca' him Tammy Splint. O woman, but he _is_ a queer bairn. He'sjist been to see me i' my cell, an' the moment he cam' in, though he washalf greetin', he lookit roond an' said, `_Isn't_ this a sell!' Eh, buthe _is_ auld-farrant! wi' mair gumption than mony full-grown men, to saynaething o' women."
But David Laidlaw had more friends in London than he was aware of. Atthe very time that he was penning the foregoing epistle to his mother, anumber of disreputable-looking men were bewailing his fate anddiscussing his affairs in the thieves' den, and two equally disreputablewomen were quarrelling over the same subject in a wretched dwelling inthe presence of a third woman, who presided over a teapot.
One of the women, whose visage exhibited marks of recent violence,struck her fist on the table and exclaimed, "No, Mrs Rampy, you arewrong, as usual. The story I 'eard about 'im was quite different an' Ibelieves it too, for them Scotsmen are a rough lot--no better than they_should_ be."
"Mrs Blathers," remarked Mrs Rampy, in a soft sarcastic tone which shewas wont to assume when stung to the quick, and which her friend knewfrom experience was the prelude to a burst of passion, "I may be wrong_as usual_, but as you have never seen or conwersed with this Scotsman,an' don't know nothink about 'im, _perhaps_ you will condescend to giveme an' Liz the kreckt wershion."
"Now, Mrs Rampy," interposed old Liz, grasping her teapot, "don't beangry, for Mrs Blathers _is_ right. Scotsmen _are_ no better than they_should_ be. Neither are English nor Irish nor Welshmen. In fact,there's none of us--men or w
omen--nearly as good as we should be. Now,I am sure it won't be denied," continued Liz, in an argumentative tone,"that Mrs Blathers _might_ be better--"
"Ha! _I_ won't deny it," said Mrs Rampy, with emphasis.
"Nor," continued Liz, hastening to equalise her illustration, "nor thatMrs Rampy might be better--"
"Right you are," said Mrs Blathers, with sarcasm. "And I'm stillsurer," said Liz hurriedly--a little put out at the ready reception ofher propositions--"that _I_ might be better--"
"Not at all," interrupted both ladies at once; "you're a trump, Liz,you're a dear creetur!"
"Come, then," cried old Liz, with a laugh that set the fang wobbling,"you are at all events agreed upon _that_ point so--have another cup,Mrs Rampy."
"Thankee, Liz, and _plenty_ of sugar."
"H'm! you need it!" muttered Mrs Blathers; "no sugar at all for _me_,Liz."
"Well, now," cried Liz, rendered bold by desperation, "I do wonder thattwo such strong, warm-hearted women as you should so often fall out.Each of you loves _some_ one--don't I know!--with powerful affection,so, why couldn't you love each other?"
This tribute to their feelings so tickled the women that they set downtheir tea-cups and laughed prodigiously.
"Now, do,--there's a couple of dears!--shake hands over your tea, an'let's have a pleasant talk," said old Liz, following up her advantage.
The mollified women did not shake hands, but each raised her tea-cup toher lips and winked.
"Your 'ealth, Blathers."
"Same to you, Rampy."
"And now, Liz," said the latter, as she pushed in her cup for more,"let's 'ear all about it."
"Yes," said Mrs Blathers also pushing in her cup, "let's 'ave _your_wersion, Liz."
While Liz gives her version of Laidlaw's misfortunes we will return tothe garden, where, being Sunday afternoon, Susy Blake was busy with asmall class of the most disreputable little ragged boys that theneighbourhood produced.
The boys were emphatically bad boys. They feared neither God nor man.The property of other people was their chief source of livelihood, andthe streets, or the jails, were their homes. Nevertheless, when in thegarden class, those boys were patterns of good behaviour, because eachboy knew that if he did not behave and keep quiet he would infallibly bedismissed from the class, and this was a punishment which none of themcould endure. Unlike many other teachers, Susy had not to go aboutenticing boys to her Sabbath class. Her chief difficulty was to preventthem coming in such numbers as would have overflowed the gardenaltogether.
And the secret of this was that Susy Blake possessed much of anunconscious influence called loving-kindness. No weapon of thespiritual armoury is equal to this. In the hands of a man it istremendous. In those of a pretty girl it is irresistible. By means ofit she brought the fiercest little arabs of the slums to listen to thestory of Jesus and His love. She afterwards asked God, the Holy Spirit,to water the good seed sown, and the result was success.
But loving-kindness was not her only weapon. She had in addition quitea glittering little armoury in which were such weapons as play of fancy,lively imagination, fervent enthusiasm, resolute purpose, fund ofanecdote, sparkling humour, intense earnestness, and the like, all ofwhich she kept flashing around the heads of her devoted worshippersuntil they were almost beside themselves with astonishment, repentance,and good resolves. Of course, when away from her influence theastonishment was apt to diminish, the repentance to cease, and the goodresolves to vanish away; but resolute purpose had kept Susy at themuntil in the course of time there was a perceptible improvement in theenvironment of Cherub Court, and a percentage of souls rescued from theranks of the ragamuffins.
On this particular Sunday Tommy Splint, who was a regular attendant atthe garden class, arrived late.
"Why, Tommy," said the teacher, turning herself from a little boy onwhom she had been trying specially to impress some grand eternal truth,"this is not like you. Has anything happened to detain you?"
"No, Susy," answered the boy, slipping into his place--with a compoundexpression in which the spirit of fun, whom no one doubted, gave the lieto the spirit of penitence, in whom no one believed--"but I've bin to asort o' Sunday class a'ready."
"Indeed, where have you been?"
"At Mrs Rampy's, w'ere I see'd a most hedifyin' spectacle--grannytryin' to bring Mrs Rampy an' Mrs Blathers to a 'eavenly state of mindover a cup of tea, an' them both resistin' of 'er like one o'clock!"
"Ah! my boy," said Susy, shaking her head and a finger at the urchin,"you've been eavesdropping again!"
"No, indeed, Susy, I ha'n't," returned the boy quite earnestly, "notsince the time you nabbed me with my ear to the key-'ole of quarrelsomeTim's door. I was a-sittin' at Mrs Rampy's open door quite openlylike--though not quite in sight, I dessay--an' they was pitchin' intoeach other quite openly too, an' granny a-tryin' to pour ile on thetroubled waters! It was as good as a play. But w'en Mrs Rampy takesup her cup to drink the 'ealth of Mrs B an' says, with _sitch_ a look,`Your 'ealth, Blathers,' I could 'old on no longer. I split and bolted!That's wot brought me 'ere a little sooner than I might 'ave bin."
There was a tendency to laugh at this explanation, which Susy did notcheck, but after a few moments she held up a finger, which producedinstant silence, while she drew a letter from her pocket.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you to-day, Tommy," she said, handing him theletter, "but I must send you with this to my father. Mr Brentwoodcalled with it not half an hour since, saying it was of importance tohave it delivered soon, as it was connected with the case of MrLaidlaw. So be off with it as fast as you can. You know where to findfather--on board the _Seacow_."
Tommy Splint was indeed disappointed at having to leave the garden classthus abruptly. He consoled himself, however, with the reflection thathe was perhaps doing important service to his friend Da-a-a-vid Laidlaw.He further consoled himself, on reaching the court below, by uttering ashriek which sent a cat that chanced to be reposing there in rampantalarm into the depths of a convenient cellar. Thereafter he went into acontemplative frame of mind to the docks, and found Sam Blake as usualin his bunk.
"I say, Sam, d'ee spend all yer time--night and day--in yer bunk?"
"Not exactly, lad," answered the seaman, with a smile, but withoutshowing any intention to rise. "You see we sea-dogs have a hard time ofit. What with bein' liable to be routed out at all hours, an' expectedto work at any hour, we git into a way of making a grab at sleep when anwhere we gits the chance. I'm makin' up lee-way just now. Bin tochurch in the forenoon though. I ain't a heathen, Tommy."
"You looks uncommon like one, anyhow--with your 'air an' 'ead an' beardan' blankits mixed up together all of a mush. There's a letter for 'ee,old man."
Without a word the sailor took the epistle, read it slowly, while theboy watched him keenly, then thrust it under his pillow.
"You ain't agoin' to clear for action at once, then?" said the boy.
"No, not just yet."
"Any message for me?" asked Tommy.
"None wotsomedever."
Seeing that his friend did not intend to be communicative the boy wiselychanged the subject.
"Now, Sam, about them pirits. W'ere was it they fust got 'old of you?"
"Down somewheres among the Philippine Islands," replied Sam, drawing theblankets more comfortably round him, "but to tell you the truth, lad,after they'd taken our ship an' made every man o' the crew walk theplank except me an' the skipper, they putt us in the hold, tied up handan' futt so as we could scarce move. Why they spared us was a puzzle tome at the time, but I afterwards found out it was because somehow they'dgot it into their heads that the skipper an' mate of our ship knewsomethin' about where some treasure that they were after had beenburied. Hand me that there pipe, Tommy--not the noo one; the shortblack fellow wi' the Turk's head on the bowl. Thankee."
"An' _did_ you know about the treasure?" asked Tommy, handing the pipein question.
"Bless you, no," returned the se
aman, proceeding to render the confinedair of the bunk still more unbearable; "we know'd of no treasure. If wehad we'd have bin arter it ourselves, double quick. As it was, theyburnt us wi' hot irons an' tortered us in various ways to make usconfess, but we had nothin' to confess, so had to grin an' bear it--sometimes to yell an' bear it! You see, lad, they mistook me for themate, so that's how I came to escape. He was a fine man was that mate,"continued the seaman in a lower tone, "a strong, handsome, kind youngofficer, an' a great favourite. I've often wondered why he was takenan' me spared."
"P'raps it was for Susy's sake!" suggested Tommy.
Sam looked at the boy--a quick half-surprised glance. "Not a bad notionthat, my lad. I shouldn't wonder if it _was_ for Susy's sake. I neverthought o' that before. Anyhow I comfort myself sometimes when I thinko' the poor mate that he was saved a deal o' torterin'; which, let metell you, ain't easy to bear."
"But go a'ead, Sam, with more about the pirits," said Tommy.
"No, lad, no--not just now. I wants to snooze. So--you clap on allsail an' you'll be in time yet for the tail end o' Susy's lesson."
The Garret and the Garden; Or, Low Life High Up Page 11
