CHAPTER VII.
At sixteen minutes to five Mr Beveridge stood by the side of the ClankwoodAvenue, comfortably wrapped in Dr Escort's fur coat, and smoking with thegreatest relish one of Dr Escott's undeniable cigars.
It was almost dark, the air bit keen, the dim park with its population ofblack trees was filled with a frosty, eager stillness. All round theinvisible wall hemmed him in, the ten pounds, seventeen shillings, andsixpence lay useless in his pocket till that was past, and his one hopedepended on a woman. But Mr Beveridge was an amateur in the sex, and hesmiled complacently as he smoked.
He had waited barely three minutes when the quick clatter of a pair ofhorses fell on his ears, and presently the lights of a carriage and pair,driving swiftly away from Clankwood, raked the drive on either side. Asthey rattled up to him he gave a shout to the coachman to stop, andstepped right in front of the horses. With something that sounded unlike ablessing, the pair were thrown almost on their haunches to check them intime. Never stopping to explain, he threw open the door and sprang in; thecoachman, hearing no sound of protest, whipped up again, and Mr Beveridgefound himself rolling through the park of Clankwood in the Countess ofGrillyer's carriage with a very timid little figure by his side. Even inthat moment of triumphant excitement the excellence of his manners wasremarkable: the first thing he said was, "Do you mind smoking?"
In her confusion of mind Lady Alicia could only reply "Oh no," and nottill some time afterwards did she remember that the odour of a cigar wasclinging and the Countess's nose unusually sensitive.
After this first remark he leaned back in silence, gradually filling thecarriage with a blue-grey cloud, and looking out of the windows first onone side and then on the other. They passed quickly through the lines oftrees and the open spaces of frosty park-land, they drew up at the lodgefor a moment, he heard his prison gates swing open, the harness jingledand the hoofs began to clatter again, a swift vision of lighted windowsand a man looking on them incuriously swept by, and then they were rollingover a country road between hedgerows and under the free stars.
It was the Lady Alicia who spoke first.
"I never thought you would really come," she said.
"I have been waiting for that remark," he replied, with his mostirresistible smile; "now for some more practical conversation."
As he did not immediately begin this conversation himself, her curiosityovercame her, and she asked, "How did you manage to get out?"
"As my friend Dr Escott offered no opposition, I walked away."
"Did he really let you?"
"He never even expostulated."
"Then--then it's all right?" she said, with an inexplicable sensation ofdisappointment.
"Perfectly--so far."
"But--didn't they object?"
"Not yet," he replied; "objections to my movements are generally madeafter they have been performed."
Somehow she felt immensely relieved at this hint of opposition.
"I'm so glad you got away," she whispered, and then repented in a flutter.
"Not more so than I am," he answered, pressing her hand.
"And now," he added, "I should like to know how near Ashditch Junction youpropose to take me."
"Where are you going to, Mr Beveridge?"
The "Mr Beveridge" was thrown in as a corrective to the hand-pressure.
"To London; where else, my Alicia? With L10, 17s. 6d. in my pocket, Ishall be able to eat at least three good dinners, and, by the third ofthem, if I haven't fallen on my feet it will be the first time I havedescended so unluckily."
"But," she asked, considerably disconcerted, "I thought you were goingback to your parish."
For a moment he too seemed a trifle put about. Then he replied readily,"So I am, as soon as I have purchased the necessary outfit, restocked myecclesiastical library, and called on my bishop."
She felt greatly relieved at this justification of her share in theadventure.
"Drop me at the nearest point to the station," he said.
"I am afraid," she began--"I mean I think you had better get out soon. Thefirst road on the right will take you straight there, and we had betternot pass it."
"Then I must bid you farewell," and he sighed most effectively. "Farewell,my benefactress, my dear Alicia! Shall I ever see you, shall I ever hearof you again?"
"I might--I might just write once; if you will answer it: I mean if youwould care to hear from such a----"
She found it difficult to finish, and prudently stopped.
"Thanks," he replied cheerfully; "do,--I shall live in hopes. I'd betterstop the carriage now."
He let down the window, when she said hastily, "But I don't know youraddress."
He reflected for an instant. "Care of the Archbishop of York will alwaysfind me," he replied; and as if unwilling to let his emotion be observed,he immediately put his head out of the window and called on the coachmanto stop.
"Good-bye," he whispered, tenderly, squeezing her fingers with one handand opening the door with the other.
"Don't quite forget me," she whispered back.
"Never!" he replied, and was in the act of getting out when he suddenlyturned, and exclaimed, "I must be more out of practice than I thought; Ihad almost forgotten the protested salute."
And without further preamble the Lady Alicia found herself kissed at last.
He jumped out and shut the door, and the carriage with its faint haloclattered into the darkness.
"They are wonderfully alike," he reflected.
About twenty minutes later he walked leisurely into Ashditch Junction, andhaving singled out the station-master, he accosted him with an air ofbeneficient consideration and inquired how soon he could catch a train forLondon.
It appeared that the up express was not due for nearly three-quarters ofan hour.
"A little too long to wait," he said to himself, as he turned up thecollar of his purloined fur coat to keep out the cold, and picked anothercigar from its rightful owner's case.
By way of further defying the temperature and cementing his acquaintancewith the station-master, he offered to regale that gratified official withsuch refreshments as the station bar provided. In the consumption ofwhiskies-and-sodas (a beverage difficult to obtain in any quantity atClankwood) Mr Beveridge showed himself as accomplished as in every otherfeat. In thirty-five minutes he had despatched no fewer than six, besidescompletely winning the station-master's heart. As he had little more thanfive minutes now to wait, he bade a genial farewell to the lady behind thebar, and started to purchase his ticket.
Hardly had he left the door of the refreshment-room when he perceived anuncomfortably familiar figure just arrived, breathless with running, onthe opposite platform. The light of a lamp fell on his shining face: itwas Moggridge!
A stout heart might be forgiven for sinking at the sight, but Mr Beveridgemerely turned to his now firm friends and said with his easiest air, "Onthe opposite platform I perceive one of my runaway lunatics. Bring acouple of stout porters as quickly as you can, for he is a person of muchstrength and address. My name," he drew a card-case from the pocket of hisfur coat, "is, as you see, Dr Escott of Clankwood."
Meanwhile Moggridge, after hurriedly investigating the platform he was on,suddenly spied a tall fur-coated figure on the opposite side. Without amoment's hesitation he sprang on to the rails, and had just mounted theother side as the station-master and two porters appeared.
Seeing his allies by his side Mr Beveridge never said a word, but,throwing off his hat, he lowered his head, charged his keeper, and pickinghim up by the knees threw him heavily on his back. Before he had a chanceof recovering himself the other three were seated on his chest employed inwinding a coil of rope round and round his prostrate form.
Two minutes later Moggridge was sitting bound hand and foot in the bookingoffice, addressing an amused audience in a strain of perhaps excusableexasperation, which however merely served to impress the Ashditchofficials with a growing
sense of their address in capturing so dangerousa lunatic. In the middle of this entertaining scene the London expresssteamed in, and Mr Beveridge, courteously thanking the station-master forhis assistance, stepped into a first-class carriage.
"I should be much obliged," he said, leaning on the door of hiscompartment and blowing the smoke of Dr Escott's last Havannah lightlyfrom his lips, "if you would be kind enough to keep that poor fellow inthe station till to-morrow. It is rather too late to send him back now.Good night, and many thanks."
He pressed a coin into the station-master's hand, which that disappointedofficial only discovered on emptying his pockets at night to be anordinary sixpence, the guard whistled, and one by one, smoothly and slowlyand then in a bright stream, the station lamps slipped by. The last ofthem flitted into the night, and the train swung and rattled by a mile aminute nearer to London town and farther from the high stone wall. Therewas no other stop, and for a long hour the adventurer sat with his legsluxuriously stretched along the cushions looking out into a fainterduplicate of his carriage, pierced now and then by the glitter of brighterpoints as they whisked by some wayside village, or crossed by the blackshadows of trees. The whole time he smiled contentedly, doubtless at theprospect of his parish work. All at once he seemed stirred, and, turningin his seat, laid his face upon the window, and pulled down the blindbehind his head, so that he could see into the night. He had spied thefirst bright filaments of London. Quickly they spread into a twinklingnetwork, and then as quickly were shut out by the first line of suburbhouses; through the gaps they grew nearer and flared cheerfully; the trainhooted over an archway, and in the road below he had a glimpse of shopwindows and crowded pavements and moving omnibuses: he was in the worldagain, and at the foretaste of all this life he laughed like a delightedchild. Last of all came the spread of shining rails and the red and yellowlights of many signals, and then the high glass roof and long lamp-litplatforms of St Euston's Cross.
Unencumbered by luggage or plans, Mr Francis Beveridge stuck his handsdeep in his pockets and strolled aimlessly enough out of the station intothe tideway of the Euston Road. For a little he stood stock-still on thepavement watching the throng of people and the perpetual buses and draysand the jingling hansoms picking their way through it all.
"For a man of brains," he moralised, "even though he be certified asinsane, for probably the best of reasons, this London has surely foolsenough to provide him with all he needs and more than he deserves. I shallset out with my lantern like a second Diogenes to look for a foolish man."
And so he strolled along again to the first opening southwards. That ledhim through a region of dingy enough brick by day, but decked now with itsstring of lamps and bright shop-windows here and there, and kept alive bypassing buses and cabs going and coming from the station. Farther on thestreet grew gloomier, and a dark square with a grove of trees in themiddle opened off one side; but, rattle or quiet, flaring shops orsad-looking lodgings, he found it all too fresh and amusing to hurry.
"Back to my parish again," he said to himself, smiling broadly at thedrollery of the idea. "If I'm caught to-morrow, I'll at least have onemerry night in my wicked, humorous old charge."
He reached Holborn and turned west in the happiest and most enviable ofmoods; the very policemen seemed to cast a friendly eye on him; the frostyair, he thought, made the lights burn brighter and the crowd move morebriskly than ever he had seen them. Suddenly the sight of a hairdresser'ssaloon brought an inspiration. He stroked his beard, twisted hismoustaches half regretfully, and then exclaiming, "Exit Mr Beveridge,"turned into the shop.
PART II.
The Lunatic at Large Page 8
