Great Porter Square: A Mystery. Volume 2. Farjeon Benjamin Leopold

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СКАЧАТЬ their young man lodger, Richard Manx. He touched her arm, and smiling pleasantly at her, walked by her side.

      “My pretty one,” he said, “your little feet walk fast.”

      “I am in a hurry,” she replied, her nostrils dilating at his touch; but instantly remembering the part she was playing, she returned his pleasant smile.

      “You have been – a – out while the amiable Mrs. Preedy sleeps.”

      This observation warned her that Richard Manx knew more about the household movements than she expected. “I have no fool to deal with,” she thought. “He shall have as much of my confidence as I choose to give him; he will find me his match.”

      “Yes,” she said aloud, with a bright look; “but don’t tell Mrs. Preedy; she might be angry with me.”

      “You speak,” he said in a tone of lofty satisfaction, “to a gentleman.”

      “I wanted to buy a ribbon,” said Becky, artlessly, “and it isn’t easy to choose the exact colour one would like at night, so I thought I would steal out, just as I am, while Mrs. Preedy took her nap.”

      “Steal out – ah, yes, I understand – just as you are, charming!”

      “And now, although I couldn’t match my ribbon – it was a very light pink I wanted – I must get back quickly.”

      All the while they were talking he was sucking and chewing a sweetmeat; having disposed of it, he popped another into his mouth.

      “Quickly,” he repeated, bending down, so that his face was on a level with hers. “That is – a – soon. Will you?”

      This question was accompanied by the offer of a little packet of acid drops, half of which he had already devoured. She took a couple with the remark that she liked chocolate creams best.

      “You shall have some,” he said, “to-morrow. I shall walk with you; I myself am on my way to my small apartment. It is the – a – fashion for a gentleman to offer a lady one of his arms. Honour me.”

      He held out his arm, which she declined.

      “I am not a lady,” she said demurely; “I am only a poor servant girl.”

      “And I,” he responded insinuatingly, “am a poor gentleman. Ah! If I were – a – rich, I should say to you, accept this ring.” He made a motion as if offering her a ring. “Accept this – a – bracelet,” with corresponding action. “Or this dress. But I have not – a – money.” He took another acid drop. “It is a misfortune. But what can a poor devil do? You do not – a – despise me because I am thus?”

      “Oh, no. I hope you will be rich one day.”

      “It will happen,” he said, in a quick, eager tone. “From my country” – he waved his hands vaguely – “shall come what I wait for here. Then shall I say to you, ‘Becky’ – pardon; I have heard the amiable Mrs. Preedy thus call you – ‘Becky,’ shall I say, ‘be no longer a servant. Be a lady.’ How then, will you speak?”

      “I must not listen to you,” replied Becky, coquettishly; “you foreign gentlemen have such smooth tongues that they are enough to turn a poor girl’s head.” They were now in Great Porter Square. “What a number of people there are in the square,” she said.

      “It is – a – remarkable, this murder. The man is – a – found.”

      “What man?” cried Becky, excitedly. “The murderer!”

      “Ah, no. That is not yet. It is the dead man who is – what do you call it? – discovered. That is it. He was not known – he is known. His name has come to the light. Yesterday he was a beggar – to-day he is rich. What, then? He is dead. His millions – in my country’s money, sweet Becky, veritably millions – shall not bring life into his bones. His money is – a – here. He is” – Richard Manx looked up at the sky – “Ah, he is there! or” – he cast his eyes to the pavement – “there! We shall not know till there comes a time. It is sad.”

      “He was a rich gentleman, you say. What could have induced a rich man to live in such a neighbourhood?”

      “In such a neighbourhood!” Richard Manx smiled, and shrugged his shoulders. “Ah! he came here not to die, surely – no, to live. It would have been well – for him – that he came not; but so it was. What should induce him here? you ask of me. Becky, I shall ask of the air.” He put himself into the attitude of listening. “Ha! ha! I hear perhaps the reason. There was a lady. Enough. We shall not betray more. I propose to you a thought. I live in the amiable house of Mrs. Preedy. It is high, my apartment. Wherefore? I am a poor gentleman – as yet. I am one morning discovered – dead. Startle not yourself. It will not be – no, it will not be; but I propose to you my thought. You would not be glad – you would not laugh, if so it should be?”

      “It would be a shocking thing,” said Becky, gravely.

      “It is well. I thank you – your face is sad, your eyes are not so bright. Then when I am thus, as I have said – dead! – from my country comes what I wait for here – money, also in millions. ‘Ah,’ says the amiable Mrs. Preedy, ‘what could induce’ – your word is good – ‘what could induce one who was rich to live in such a neighbourhood?’ Observe me, Becky. I place my hand, on my heart and say, ‘There is a lady.’ Ah, yes, though you call yourself not so, I say, ‘There is a lady.’ I say no more. We are at home. You are beautiful, and I – till for ever – am your devoted. If it were not for so many people – I am discreet, Becky – I should kiss your hand.”

      And, indeed, the remark that he was discreet was proved by the change in his manner, now that he and Becky were in closer contact with strangers; the tenderness left his face, and observers at a distance would never have guessed that he was making something very much like a declaration of love to the girl. He opened the street door with his latch-key, and went up to his garret, sucking his acid drops. Becky opened the little gate and went down to her kitchen, where her mind was set at ease by seeing Mrs. Preedy still asleep in her arm chair.

      Becky looked at her hand. It was a pretty hand and small, but the work she had done lately rather detracted from its prettiness. There was dirt on it, too, from the scrubbing and cleaning of the day. “He would kiss my hand,” she murmured. “I am afraid our innocent young man lodger is a bit of a flirt. Be careful, young man. You are not in this house without a motive; you are in danger if that motive touches the welfare of the man I love!”

      This soliloquy, in which she indulged in the kitchen, might have been of greater length had not Mrs. Preedy stirred in her sleep. The slight movement was sufficient to wake her.

      “I do believe, Becky,” she said, opening her eyes, “that I have overslept myself.”

      CHAPTER XXII

      IN WHICH BECKY GIVES WAY TO HER FEELINGS, AND RENEWS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE

      GREAT PORTER SQUARE had really been in a state of excitement the whole of the day, almost equalling that which raged on the day of the discovery of the murder. The strange revelation made in the columns of the Evening Moon– whose account of the identification of the body of the murdered man was presented in a form so attractive that edition after edition was sold with amazing rapidity – invested the murder with features romantic enough to engross general attention. There was love in it, there was a beautiful and fascinating woman in it, there was a baby СКАЧАТЬ