by Tom Gallon
CHAPTER XXI
DR. CRIPPS IS INCOHERENT
When that unfortunate and much battered football of Fate—Dr.Cripps—was left, stranded and alone, at Liverpool Street Station, hecast about in his mind as to what was best to be done. His small shareof the spoils of the Sheffield robbery had been passed into the handsof a person, who had promised to effect a safe exchange; and Crippswas, as usual, remarkably short of money.
He remembered too, not with contrition, but with something of alarm,that he had, in a moment of forgetfulness, struck a man on a vital spotwith a decanter, and left him apparently dead; so that there might beconsequences to be feared. On the other hand, money must be screwed outof somebody, and he was at a loss to know to whom to turn for it.Woolwich was barren country; for the recent tragic events, and the stircreated by the bank robbery, had scattered the band, and it was quiteunlikely that he would have a chance of meeting any member of it.
However, the barren country had to be tried; much liquid refreshmentwas necessary to him, and it had to be obtained somewhere. Accordingly,for nearly a week he haunted those shady, out-at-elbows places near theriver, in the hope of meeting a friend. But friends were scarce andshy; and, although he met one or two, and pleaded his positionsuccessfully, it was hard and uphill work. At the end of a week, he hadcome perilously near to spirituous starvation—and was, in directconsequence, more sober than he had been for years past.
His wits being much sharpened, as his brain became clearer, he began tothink, with rising hope, of Bamberton, from which he had sounceremoniously taken flight. The idea appealed to him; with growingconfidence, he remembered, in these more sober moments, that the man hehad assaulted with the decanter had had but a passing glimpse of him,and might not be likely to recognise him. At all events, the distancewas not great, and the place had a public-house—two public-houses,unless his eyes had deceived him. Brightened with this thought, andwith the prospect of having a new field in which to borrow, and findingthat he had sufficient money in his pocket to pay for the journey, heset off for Liverpool Street; and, in a little time, was standing—anincongruous figure enough in the spring landscape—outside the littlestation which was within a few miles of Bamberton, moistening his drylips with his tongue, and wondering where he was to get a drink.
In the days—over a quarter of a century before—when Cripps had knownBamberton, the little town where the railway now ended had been but aninsignificant village, and the railway (which had made its fortune) athing undreamt of. At the present time, therefore, the Doctor stood onstrange ground; and the past was so far away, that he had absolutely noidea in which direction Bamberton lay. Divided between the necessityfor reaching the village, and the more pressing need for refreshment,the little man looked about him for some promising stranger, who mighthave a kindly heart and a spare threepence in his pocket.
Standing almost at his elbow, and staring down the road, in altogetheras gloomy a fashion as himself, was a young man, quietly dressed incountry style—a mere lad. Cripps, after glancing at him once or twice,edged towards him.
“I suppose, my friend,” he said—“I suppose you don’t happen to knowthe way towards Bamberton—do you?”
The young man looked at him for a moment, and then smiled. “I ought toknow the way, sir,” he replied; “I was born there.”
“And a most excellent place to be born in, I should imagine,” saidCripps. “Delightful scenery, and—and a public-house or two, just—justto relieve the monotony of things. Er—by the way—they don’t seem tohave one just about here—eh?”
“Just across the road,” replied the young man, jerking his head in thatdirection.
Dr. Cripps began to conceive a dislike for the lad, as one who couldnot understand the true meaning of a hint; but he tried again. “Is—isthe liquor there worth drinking?” he asked, in a confidential tone.
“It’s a long time since I tried it,” replied the young man carelessly.
Cripps saw an opening here; he laughed feebly, and clapped the youngman on the shoulder. “Ha—ha—very good,” he cried—“very good indeed.But you wouldn’t object to tasting it now, I suppose?”
The young man shrugged his shoulders, without looking at Cripps, andmade no reply. But the little man, whose thirst was rapidly getting thebetter of every other consideration, promptly seized him by the arm,and began to lead him across the road in a desperate hurry.
“You shall taste it, my young friend,” he cried, in an ecstasy ofgood-fellowship. “Not—mind you—not that I would have any young manfollow in my footsteps—for I, my young friend, am a wreck. But alittle stimulant—especially at this hour of the day—(indeed, I mightsay, at any hour of the day)—is very necessary; it gives tone to theconstitution.”
It appeared to have given something besides tone to the Doctor’sconstitution; but he did not say so. He walked with his new friend intothe little Railway Inn, and ordered refreshments for both; discovering,to his dismay, when asked for the price of them, that he had no money.He had performed the same excellent trick so often, that he was anadept at it; and tears of indignation actually sprang to his eyes, ashe solemnly cursed the unknown man who must have stolen hispurse—“containing gold, sir—gold—and my dear and sainted mother’sportrait—a miniature, sir, from which I would not have parted, exceptat the sacrifice of my last drop of blood. The gold, sir, wasnothing—but the miniature——” Here the old sinner hid his face in thefolds of a very doubtful-looking handkerchief, and appeared to weep.
The young man, whatever his suspicions may have been, was agood-natured fellow, and he paid the reckoning. Immediately, the littleman became all smiles again, and raising his glass, insisted ondrinking the young man’s health.
“If, my dear young friend, I could have the privilege of knowing towhom I am indebted—I should be glad; if I could pledge you by name——”
“My name’s Routley—Harry Routley,” replied the lad. “Your health, sir.”
“And yours, Mr. Routley,” responded Cripps. “Whatever station of lifemay be yours, sir, I am convinced that it is a station you adorn.Bamberton should be proud of you, Mr. Routley.”
Harry shrugged his shoulders, and laughed a little bitterly. “At thepresent time,” he said—“neither Bamberton nor any other place isparticularly proud of me, I think. And I have no distinct position inlife.”
“That’s a pity—a great pity,” said Cripps gravely, shaking his head.“If a man has no position, the devil is likely to find him one. Myyoung friend—I am sorry for you.”
“You needn’t be,” replied Harry, savagely. “It’s my own fault—and myown business, if it comes to that. I deserve everything I get. I soldthe best man and the best master ever a lad had—and I don’t care whatbecomes of me.”
“Sold a man!” exclaimed Cripps. “I don’t understand you.”
“Don’t suppose you do,” replied Harry, recklessly. “Maybe, notbelonging to these parts, you haven’t heard of Mr. Dandy Chater—eh?”
The unfortunate Cripps, with a gasp, dropped his glass to the floor,and fled. But, before he had managed to wrench open the door, Harry hadlaid a strong hand on his shoulder, and was hauling him back again.
“Let me go—let me go!” cried Cripps wildly. “I won’t be pestered withthat devilish name any more. Let me go! I’ve found him in the river;he’s got the diamond necklace; he’s got the bank-notes; he’s frightenedthe Count and myself out of our senses; and I can’t have a quiet drinkwith a stranger, without hearing of him again. Let me go!”
“Stop a bit,” said Harry quickly, with his carelessness and recklessdemeanour gone—“stop a bit! What do you know of Dandy Chater?”
“A great deal too much,” said the Doctor, shaking his head, and lookingall about him. “What do you know about him?”
“I was his servant,” replied Harry, casting down his eyes, and speakingin a low voice. “And I—I betrayed him, and handed him over to thepolice.”
&
nbsp; The little Doctor looked at Harry for some moments with great gravity,and then shook his head at him reproachfully. “My young friend—my dearyoung friend,”—he became quite melancholy over him—“it’s very evidentto me that you are on the downward path—in the very devil’s clutches.You’ve been dreaming. Dandy Chater is as dead as Pharoah.”
“God forbid!” exclaimed Harry, turning very white. “What do you mean?”
“Dandy Chater was drowned—a week or two back—in that noble stream,the Thames.”
Harry burst into a roar of laughter. “A week or two back,” heexclaimed. “You must be out of your mind! Why, he’s been down herewithin these past few days—has been in Chelmsford Jail, to stand histrial for murder; and is now at large about the country somewhere—Godbe good to him, wherever he is—with the police hunting high and lowfor him.”
Cripps sat down suddenly on a bench. “Would you be so kind—so verykind, young man—as to call for a little drop of brandy—neat?” hesaid, in a shaky voice. “I’ve been persuading myself, for the lastweek, that I’d dreamed it all; and now I find that it’s all true.”
Harry called for the brandy and Cripps swallowed it, murmuring tohimself, over and over again as he set down the empty glass—“DandyChater in the river—Dandy Chater got the necklace—Dandy Chater inChelmsford Jail—Dandy Chater running about the country, with thepolice after him. And Ogledon said that he——”
He checked himself hurriedly there and got up. “You are a mostestimable young man,” he said, addressing Harry—“and I would recommendyou to drink as little as possible, and not to see more Dandy Chatersthan you can help at once. Now, if you are going towards Bamberton,perhaps you’ll be good enough to put me on my road.”
Harry expressing his willingness to do so, the two went out of the inntogether, and set off. For a long time, they walked in silence; but theDoctor’s mind was busy. Perhaps the mere fact of coming again indaylight among old well-remembered scenes jogged that blurred and fadedthing, his memory; perhaps the sight, in the distance, of the towers ofChater Hall helped it still more. Whatever it may have been, hesuddenly stopped in the road, just before they came to the village andclapped his hands together, with a cry; burst into a shriek oflaughter; and began to dance and caper wildly about in the dust. Harryfully convinced, that the man had suddenly gone mad, backed away fromhim and stood ready to defend himself.
“Ho—ho—ho—!” screamed the Doctor, slapping his thighs, punchinghimself in the ribs, and still dancing as wildly as ever—“here’s ajoke! Here’s a business! Here’s a topsy-turvy devilish upside-downaffair! Ho—ho—ho—! It’s the other child; it’s the twin that wassmuggled away!”
Harry, feeling at last that the man was serious, and that hisdisjointed remarks had a meaning which the other could not fathom,sprang at him, shook him, and demanded to know what he meant.
“Oh, you idiots!—you blunderers!” Cripps was still laughingboisterously. “Don’t you see that there are two of them? Onedead—t’other living!”
Further than that, he would say nothing; he still continued to danceabout in the dust, and to clap his hands, and to shriek with laughter,and to shout, over and over again, that one was dead and t’otherliving. Harry, filled with repentance for the trouble he had broughtupon his master, and keenly anxious to do all in his power to undo thewrong he felt he had committed, began to feel that this man might knowsomething concerning Dandy Chater which would be useful—that he mightbe able, in some strange way, to save the man against whom that fearfulcharge of murder had been made. Looking at him, Harry began to wonderwhat to do; how to force from this man the information he probablyheld. Feeling his own weakness in the matter, he cast about in his mindto discover to whom he might turn for help.
He must find, in the first place, a friend of the man he desired toassist—some one about whose loyalty to Dandy Chater there could be nofaintest doubt. The name of one person after another occurred tohim—only to be immediately rejected, as an avowed believer in hisguilt, or as too weak to be of use. Suddenly there came the thought ofMiss Barnshaw—the woman who loved Dandy Chater—who was rich, and hadpowerful friends; he decided to go to her at once, and to take Crippswith him.
To go to her was easy enough; to take the little man was anothermatter. For Cripps already began to repent of having said anything to astranger, even in the natural excitement attending the discovery hefelt he had made; on Harry suggesting, with much eagerness, that theyshould go together to see Miss Barnshaw, he at once became very graveagain, and resolutely shook his head. Visions of Ogledon—of the bodyhe had assisted to drag from the river—of many other things—floatedbefore him; he decided to hold his tongue.
Feeling, however, on second thoughts, that it might be possible thatthis young and rich lady would be willing to assist so forlorn anoutcast, in need of considerable refreshment, he at length consented toaccompany the lad to her house; and was hurried along, at a mostundignified pace, by Harry, immediately his consent had been obtained.
Harry stipulated that he should first see the young lady alone, inorder to prepare her for whatever communication Cripps might have tomake; and that gentleman, complying with so reasonable a request, tooka seat in the hall, while Harry was shown into the presence of Madge,who was alone.
There, his courage and resolution began to fail him at once—the moreso, that she came eagerly towards him, with a flush on her face, andwith her eyes lit up with a faint hope that he had news for her.
“What is it, Harry; what have you to tell me?” she asked, quickly.
“I want to be fair and just, Miss,” he said; “I want to undo some ofthe wrong I have done, and have so bitterly repented of.”
“What wrong?” she asked.
Harry hung his head a little lower. “I sold Master Dandy, Miss; I gavehim up to the police, when he might have escaped; I put them on histrack.”
“You! But I thought——”
“Oh yes, Miss,” he said bitterly, glancing up at her—“I know what youthought; I know what every one thought. You believed that I loved him,and was devoted to him. So I was; I would have died for him; I woulddie now to undo what I did that night. But I was mad, Miss Barnshaw; Ifelt that he had done me a wrong, and I forgot—forgot all the rest.But now—now I want to put things right—to help him if I can—to provehis innocence.”
“Yes—yes—he is innocent, Harry; there can be no question about that,”she said firmly. “I believe that with all my heart.”
“And so do I, Miss Barnshaw,” replied the lad. “I feel now that hecould never have struck down an unprotected girl—I know that, whatevermystery there may be about it all, the Master Dandy we know could neverhave done that deed. And there is a man here, Miss, a man I met byaccident, who knows him, and who has some strange story to tell abouthim. I could make nothing of it myself, so I brought him here, in thehope that you would see him, Miss, and try to get the story from him.He has been babbling about twins—and there being two of them (twoDandy Chaters, he seemed to mean, Miss)—and one dead, and the otherliving.”
She looked at him in perplexity for a moment, and then, following thedirection of his eyes, and of a hasty movement he made towards thedoor, opened it swiftly, and looked into the hall. She beckoned toCripps, who got up somewhat diffidently, and came into the room.
He had had time to think about the matter while he sat alone in thehall. Having a deadly fear of Ogledon, and of his own connection withthose shady characters at Woolwich, he had come to the conclusion thatthe less he said the better would it be for him. At the same time, hewanted money; and, if this woman wanted information, she must pay forit, no matter how meagre that information might be. Putting on an airof deep humility, he faced the girl, hat in hand, and waited for her tospeak.
“I am told,” she said at last, in a low voice, “that you have somethingto tell me, concerning Mr. Dandy Chater—something that may helphim—perhaps save him from the fate which seems to be sweeping downupon him. Will you tell me what you know?�
�
Cripps moistened his lips with his tongue—looked all round theroom—looked into his hat—and finally raised his eyes to her face.“Owing to circumstances I cannot explain, my dear young lady,” he said,in his weak treble—“I run a very great risk in telling you anything;so great a risk that—I hardly know how to put the matter—that it willbe necessary for you—or any one else—to make it worth my while to sayanything.”
“If you can help him—if you can tell me anything of service—you shallbe paid liberally,” she responded eagerly.
The weak eyes of the little man twinkled and he moistened his lipsagain. “I want—say fifty pounds?” he hazarded.
“It is yours. Tell me what you know.”
“I should like”—he hesitated, and turned his hat round and round—“Ishould like an open cheque—first.”
She went straight to a desk in a corner of the room; was busy for amoment; and then looked round at him. “To whom shall I make itpayable?” she asked.
“Cripps is my name—Dr. J. Cripps, if you please.”
She brought him the piece of paper, and he read it greedily and thrustit in his pocket; seemed to hesitate a little longer; and finally saidwhat he had made up his mind to say.
“My dear young lady—I am not usually sober enough to give a clearopinion upon anything; force of circumstances has kept me sober fornearly a week, and I am clearer about the head than usual. I can onlysay this: to the best of my knowledge and belief, there are two DandyChaters.”
“Two!” she echoed, in a whisper.
“Two. One was fished out of the Thames some days ago, and has beenburied as an unknown man; the other is in Chelmsford Jail—or wanderingabout the country—I don’t know which. I only know that there are twoof them.”
“But—great heavens, man,” she cried—“I have known one Dandy Chatersince his boyhood; we have grown up side by side. What other man canthere be in his likeness?”
“I don’t care anything about that,” said the Doctor, obstinately, “andI’m not going to tell you more. I know that there are two—that one isdead, and t’other living; that’s all.”
“But, my good man—I implore you to relieve my anxiety. Can’t you seemy position? Which of these men is it who committed the murder of whichthe living one is accused; and which has been my friend—and my lover?”
The Doctor shook his head helplessly. “The Lord only knows,” he said;“_I_ don’t!”
