Flashman’s Lady. George Fraser MacDonald

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ I’m sure – Tighe’s the monicker, Daedalus Tighe, ev’yone knows me, agent an’ accountant to the gentry—’ and he pushed a card in my direction between sweaty fingers. ‘Takin’ the hoppor-toonity, my dear sir an’ sportsman, of presentin’ my compliments an’ best vishes, an’—’

      ‘Thank’ee,’ says I, ‘but I’ve no bets to place.’

      ‘My dear sir!’ says he, beaming. ‘The werry last idea!’ And he invited his cronies, a seedy-flash bunch, to bear him witness. ‘My makin’ so bold, dear sir, was to inwite you to share my good fortun’, seein’ as ’ow you’ve con-tribooted so ’andsome to same – namely, an’ first, by partakin’ o’ some o’ this ’ere French jam-pain – poodle’s p--s to some, but as drunk in the bes’ hestablishments by the werriest swells such as – your good self, sir. Wincent,’ says he, ‘pour a glass for the gallant—’

      ‘Another time,’ says I, giving him my shoulder, but the brute had the effrontery to catch my arm.

      ‘’Old on, sir!’ cries he. ‘’Arf a mo’, that’s on’y the sociable pree-liminary. I’m vishful to present to your noble self the—’

      ‘Go to the d---l!’ snaps I. He stank of brandy.

      ‘—sum of fifty jemmy o’ goblins, as an earnest o’ my profound gratitood an’ respeck. Wincent!’

      And d----d if the weasel at his elbow wasn’t thrusting a glass of champagne at me with one hand and a fistful of bills in the other. I stopped short, staring.

      ‘What the deuce …?’

      ‘A triflin’ token of my hes-teem,’ says Tighe. He swayed a little, leering at me, and for all the reek of booze, the flash cut of his coat, the watch-chain over his flowery silk vest, and the gaudy bloom in his lapel – the marks of the vulgar sport, in fact – the little eyes in his fat cheeks were as hard as coals. ‘You vun it for me, my dear sir – an’ plenty to spare, d---e. Didn’t ’e, though?’ His confederates, crowding round, chortled and raised their glasses. ‘By the sweat – yore pardon, sir – by the peerspyration o’ yore brow – an’ that good right arm, vot sent back Felix, Pilch, an’ Alfred Mynn in three deliveries, sir. Look ’ere,’ and he snapped a finger to Vincent, who dropped the glass to whip open a leather satchel at his waist – it was stuffed with notes and coin.

      ‘You, sir, earned that. You did, though. Ven you put avay Fuller Pilch – an’, veren’t that a ’andsome catch, now? – I sez to Fat Bob Napper, vot reckons e’s king o’ the odds an’ evens – “Napper,” sez I, “that’s a ’ead bowler, that is. Vot d’ye give me ’e don’t put out Mynn, first ball?” “Gammon,” sez ’e. “Three in a row – never! Thahsand to one, an’ you can pay me now.” Generous odds, sir, you’ll allow.’ And the rascal winked and tapped his nose. ‘So – hon goes my quid – an’ ’ere’s Napper’s thahsand, cash dahn, give ’im that – an’ fifty on it’s yore’s, my gallant sir, vith the grateful compliments of Daedalus Tighe, Hesk-wire, agent an’ accountant to the gentry, ’oo ’ereby salutes’ – and he raised his glass and belched unsteadily – ‘yore ’onner’s pardon, b----r them pickles – ’oo salutes the most wicious right harm in the noble game o’ cricket today! Hip-hip-hip – hooray!’

      I couldn’t help being amused at the brute, and his pack of rascals – drunken bookies and touts on the spree, and too far gone to appreciate their own impudence.

      ‘My thanks for the thought, Mr Tighe,’ says I, for it don’t harm to be civil to a bookie, and I was feeling easy, ‘you may drink my health with it.’ And I pushed firmly past him, at which he staggered and sat down heavily in a froth of cheap champagne, while his pals hooted and weaved in to help him. Not that I couldn’t have used the fifty quid, but you can’t be seen associating with cads of that kidney, much less accepting their gelt. I strode on, with cries of ‘Good luck, sir!’ and ‘Here’s to the Flash cove!’ following me. I was still grinning as I resumed my search for Elspeth, but as I turned into the archery range for a look there, the smile was wiped off my lips – for there were only two people in the long alley between the hedges: the tall figure of a man, and Elspeth in his arms.

      I came to a dead halt, silent – for three reasons. First, I was astonished. Secondly, he was a big, vigorous brute, by what I could see of him – which was a massive pair of shoulders in a handsomely cut broadcloth (no expense spared there), and thirdly, it passed quickly through my mind that Elspeth, apart from being my wife, was also my source of supply. Food for thought, you see, but before I had even an instant to taste it, they both turned their heads and I saw that Elspeth was in the act of stringing a shaft to a ladies’ bow – giggling and making a most appealing hash of it – while her escort, standing close in behind her, was guiding her hands, which of course necessitated putting his arms about her, with her head against his shoulder.

      All very innocent – as who knows better than I, who’ve taken advantage of many such situations for an ardent squeeze and fondle?

      ‘Why, Harry,’ cries she, ‘where have you been all this while? See, Don Solomon is teaching me archery – and I have been making the sorriest show!’ Which she demonstrated by fumbling the shaft, swinging her bow arm wildly, and letting fly into the hedge, squeaking with delighted alarm. ‘Oh, I am quite hopeless, Don Solomon, unless you hold my hands!’

      ‘The fault is mine, dear Mrs Flashman,’ says he, easily. He managed to keep an arm round her, while bowing in my direction. ‘But here is Mars, who I’m sure is a much better instructor for Diana than I could ever be.’ He smiled and raised his hat. ‘Servant, Mr Flashman.’

      I nodded, pretty cool, and looked down my nose at him, which wasn’t easy, since he was all of my height, and twice as big around – portly, you might say, if not fat, with a fleshy, smiling face, and fine teeth which flashed white against his swarthy skin. Dago, for certain, perhaps even Oriental, for his hair and whiskers were blue-black and curly, and as he came towards me he was moving with that mincing Latin grace, for all his flesh. A swell, too, by the elegant cut of his togs; diamond pin in his neckercher, a couple of rings on his big brown hands – and, by Jove, even a tiny gold ring in one ear. Part-nigger, not a doubt of it, and with all a rich nigger’s side, too.

      ‘Oh, Harry, we have had such fun!’ cries Elspeth, and my heart gave a little jump as I looked at her. The gold ringlets under her ridiculous bonnet, the perfect pink and white complexion, the sheer innocent beauty of her as she sparkled with laughter and reached out a hand to me. ‘Don Solomon has shown me bowling, and how to shoot – ever so badly! – and entertained me – for the cricket came so dull when you were not playing, with those tedious Kentish people popping away, and—’

      ‘Hey?’ says I, astonished. ‘You mean you didn’t see me bowl?’

      ‘Why, no, Harry, but we had the jolliest time among the side-shows, with ices and hoop-la …’ She prattled on, while the greaser raised his brows, smiling from one to the other of us.

      ‘Dear me,’ says he, ‘I fear I have lured you from your duty, dear Mrs Flashman. Forgive me,’ he went on to me, ‘for I have the advantage of you still. Don Solomon Haslam, to command,’ and he nodded and flicked his handkerchief. ‘Mr Speedicut, who I believe is your friend, presented me to your so charming lady, and I took the liberty of suggesting that we … take a stroll. If I had known you were to be put on – but tell me … any luck, eh?’

      ‘Oh, not too bad,’ says I, inwardly furious that while I’d been performing prodigies Elspeth had been fluttering at this oily flammer. ‘Felix, Pilch and Mynn, in three balls – if you call it luck. СКАЧАТЬ