Rogues and Vagabonds. George R. Sims

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СКАЧАТЬ to convey that Mrs. Turvey’s visitor was going to eat the cat. That was always on the hearthrug. The marmalade and the muffins were the specialities which denoted the expected advent of company.

      There were three cups and saucers set. Now, allotting one to Mrs. Turvey and one to Topsey, we might, by setting our wits to work, arrive at the conclusion that only one visitor was expected. Our wits would have performed the task confided to them most creditably if this was the result of their labour, for there is a knock at the door, and presently Topsey, who has been upstairs on the qui vive, comes dancing down into the housekeeper’s little room with the intelligence that ‘He’s come.’

      ‘He’ follows very closely at Miss Topsey’s heels. ‘He’ is a fat, smiling gentleman of fifty, and so shining that it seems almost a waste to burn the gas when he is in the room.

      His bald head shines, his face shines, his coat shines, his boots shine, his buttons shine, his black stock shines, and his old-fashioned stand-up collar shines.

      He smiles a sweet smile at Mrs. Turvey, and when he opens his mouth you see that he has white shiny teeth.

      ‘You’re late, Mr. Jabez,’ says Mrs. Turvey, as, having shaken hands with her visitor and motioned him to the tea-table, she seats herself and prepares to do the honours.

      ‘Business, my dear madam, business. Nothing but business would have made me late for this appointment, you may be sure,’ answers the gentleman, shining all over his face, till he reflects the teapot and the teapot reflects him.

      ‘Ah!’ sighs Mrs. Turvey, ‘business is a strange thing!’

      ‘Yes, my dear madam, it is, and never stranger than in our line. Muffins—thank you; I adore muffins. I’ve been in our line thirty years, Mrs. Turvey, and our business gets stranger every day. Now our business to-night, for instance——’

      ‘Ahem!’

      Mr. Jabez is so suddenly interrupted by the warning eye of Mrs. Turvey that he gives a little cough, and swallows a little piece of muffin, and the redness which ensues, together with the extra shininess, makes him look like a setting sun sinking slowly below the horizon of Mrs. Turvey’s tea-table.

      Mrs. Turvey’s glance has implied that the conversation is to be deferred till Topsey is out of the room. Let us take advantage of the lull in the conversation to properly introduce the worthy housekeeper’s visitor.

      Mr. Jabez Duck is a clerk in the employ of that eminent firm of solicitors, Messrs. Grigg and Limpet, Lincoln’s Inn. Messrs. Grigg and Limpet are the family solicitors of Mr. Gurth Egerton, and have the entire management of his affairs during his long absence abroad. Mr. Duck is the clerk specially entrusted with this part of the firm’s business, and occasions for visits to the house have from time to time arisen.

      Mr. Duck pays Mrs. Turvey her housekeeping allowance, sees her with regard to accounts that are applied for, authorises repairs, and comes occasionally to refer to papers and documents, or to see if they are in the library of the firm’s absent client. This is the business part of the acquaintanceship. But beyond this there is a little personal friendship. Mrs. Turvey is a spinster, in spite of her matronly appellation, and Mr. Duck is a bachelor. Mr. Duck stays occasionally to take a friendly cup of tea after his business has been transacted. Confidences have been exchanged; under the potent influence of the cheering cup their hearts have been opened, and little secrets have oozed out. Curiosity has been awakened on both sides, and the affairs of the absent Mr. Egerton have become deeply interesting to them.

      Mr. Duck has come to tea this evening by special invitation, for something has occurred of the deepest interest. The firm have news of a very startling character; and what more natural than that, having called in the morning and hinted that he should perhaps have something of great importance to communicate, Mr. Duck should have been requested to come to tea that evening and have a quiet chat?

      Mrs. Turvey hated to hear important intelligence on the doorstep, or to have a secret imparted to her in the vulgar daylight, when brushes and brooms were about. If there was a nice delightful mystery to be revealed, or a little scandal to be whispered, let her drink it with her tea, after her work was done, and when she could sit still and enjoy it with muffin and marmalade.

      Mr. Duck was quite of her opinion, and so the invitation had been readily accepted.

      The only difficulty was Topsey; but this, with great diplomacy, Mrs. Turvey had got over.

      The servant next door was going to the Polytechnic that evening, and had promised to take Topsey with her directly Mrs. Turvey hinted that her niece had few opportunities of going out, and she thought that the ghost entertainment was one which, from an educational point of view, no child should miss.

      The glance with which Mrs. Turvey favoured Mr. Duck was therefore intended to inform him that he was to hold his tongue on the important matter for the present, but that by-and-by he would have an opportunity of speaking unreservedly.

      Mrs. Turvey had not calculated upon also sending the good man’s piece of muffin the wrong way. That was an unforeseen contingency, from which, however, Mr. Duck speedily recovered, and shone as placidly as ever.

      When tea was over, and Topsey had been packed off to see the ghost, with instructions not only for the evening but for her entire conduct in life, with many warnings not to tumble under ‘buses or to leave go her friend’s hand, and with strict injunctions not to get entangled in any machinery that might happen to be going at the Polytechnic, Mrs. Turvey settled herself down and prepared to hear Mr. Duck’s narrative.

      Mr. Duck commenced by solemnly lifting his eyes to the ceiling, and exclaiming, in dramatic tones:

      ‘Mrs. Turvey, madam, Mr. Gurth Egerton is there!’

      Mrs. Turvey started up with a little scream, and glanced in amazement at the ceiling. Then she looked at Mr. Duck, to see if he was in his right senses.

      ‘Where?’ she gasped, presently.

      ‘In heaven, ma’am,’ answered the gentleman; then, dropping his voice and glancing significantly at the carpet, he added, ‘I trust he’s not there.’

      ‘Lawks a mercy, Mr. Duck, how awful! You don’t mean to say that the master’s dead?’

      ‘I don’t say positively he is, ma’am, and I can’t say positively that he is not, but the chances are that he is there now.’ Mr. Duck had glanced at the carpet as he spoke, but he instantly corrected the mistake, and looked up solemnly at the ceiling.

      ‘Mr. Duck,’ said Mrs. Turvey, half crying, ‘don’t trifle with my feelings. I’ve been alone in this house so long, I’ve lost all the nerve I ever had. If the master’s dead I’d rather not stop here. I shouldn’t like to be in a dead man’s house. He was never easy in his life, poor man, and—and——’

      ‘And he’s just one of those men you’d expect to come wandering about his house after death—eh, Mrs. Turvey?’

      ‘Well,’ answered the lady, glancing uneasily round, ‘it’s a dreadful thing to say, but I always did believe, and I always shall believe, as the master had—had——’

      ‘Had something on his conscience that wouldn’t let him rest. Exactly, Mrs. Turvey.’

      ‘Lor’ how you do catch me up. Well, СКАЧАТЬ