The Woman with One Hand, and Mr. Ely's Engagement. Marsh Richard

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      THE WAITER-AND THE HAND

      When I had dined-they gave me for nothing a better dinner than the one I had had in the middle of the day for one-and-sevenpence-the feeling that, to say the least of it, I was in an equivocal position, began to chasten. Instead, I began to feel, as the schoolboys have it, that I was in for a lark. That I really was going to hear, either through Messrs. Cleaver and Caxton, or through anybody else, of something to my advantage, I never for a moment believed. I was an orphan. I had what I take it are the best of reasons for knowing I have not a single living relative. I have no friends: I never had. I was, at my mother's death, employed in an office from which I was shortly after ignominiously ejected, owing to a difference of opinion I was so unfortunate as to have with the senior clerk. I had spent my substance, such as it was, and twelve months, in seeking for other occupation.

      My story was a prosaic and a sordid one. That I could hear of something to my advantage, from any source whatever, was an idea I utterly scouted.

      I dined alone. The waiter informed me that, for the moment, I was the only visitor in the house. No doubt, under those circumstances, I was welcome. This waiter was a man with iron-grey hair and a pair of curiously big, black eyes; I noticed them as he flitted about the room, but I had much better reason to notice them a little later on. As I rose from the table I gave outspoken utterance to words which were a sort of tag to the sequence of my thoughts-

      "Well, James Southam," I exclaimed, "you're in for it at last."

      This I said out loud, foolishly, no doubt. The waiter was moving towards the door. He had some plates in his hand; as I spoke, he dropped these plates. They smashed to pieces on the floor. He turned to me as if he turned on a pivot. The fashion of his countenance changed; he glared at me as if I or he had suddenly gone mad. The pupils of his eyes dilated-it was then I realised what curious eyes they were.

      "Who the devil are you?" he cried. "How do you know my name's James Southam?"

      I do not know how it was, but a splash of inspiration seemed all at once to come to me-I do not know from where.

      "You are James Southam," I said; "at one time of Dulborough."

      I could plainly see that the man was trembling, either with fear or with rage, and it struck me that it was with a mixture of both.

      "What has that to do with you?" he gasped.

      "It has this to do with me-that I want you."

      An empty beer-bottle was on the table. With the rapidity of some frantic wild animal, rushing forward he caught this bottle by the neck, and, before I had realised his intention, he struck me with it on the head. He was a smaller man than I, but, when next I began to take an interest in the things of this world, I was lying on the floor, and the room was empty. My namesake, all the evidence went to show, had felled me like a log, and, without any sort of ceremony, had left me where I fell.

      I sat up on the floor, I put my hand to my head. It ached so badly that I could scarcely see out of my eyes. With some difficulty I sprang to my feet. On attaining a more or less upright position I became conscious that the trepidation of my legs inclined me in another direction.

      "If this," I told myself, "is hearing of something to my advantage, I've heard enough."

      As I endeavoured to obtain support by leaning against the mantelpiece the room door opened, and the tall, thin woman, whom I had been told was Mrs. Barnes, came in.

      "I beg your pardon," she began. She looked round the room, then she looked at me. So far as I could judge in the then state of my faculties, she appeared surprised. "I thought the waiter was here."

      "He was here."

      "How long has he been gone?"

      "Some minutes."

      "It is very odd! I have been looking for him everywhere. I thought that he was still upstairs with you." She glanced at the ruined crockery. "What has happened? – who has broken the plates?"

      "The waiter-he dropped them. He also dropped the bottle."

      I did not explain that he had dropped the latter on my head, and almost broken it into as many pieces as the plates.

      "It is very careless of him. I must see where he is."

      I fancied, from the expression of her face, that she perceived that there was more in the matter than met the eye. But, if so, she did not give audible expression to her perceptions. She left the room, and, when she had gone, I also left the room, and went to bed. I realised that the complications, and, if I may be permitted to say so, the ramifications of the situation, were for the moment beyond my grasp. In the morning I might be able to look the position fairly in the face, but, just then-no! I hastened to put myself between the sheets. Scarcely was I between them than I fell asleep.

      I was awakened, as it seemed to me, just after I had fallen asleep, by some one knocking at the bedroom door. The knocking must have startled me out of a dreamless slumber, because it was a moment or two before I could remember where I was. Then I understood that some one was endeavouring to attract my attention from without.

      "Who's there?" I said.

      "It is I, Mrs. Barnes, the landlady. I wish to speak to you."

      "What, now? What time is it? Won't the morning do?

      "No, I must speak to you at once."

      It seemed that, in my hurry to get into bed, I had forgotten to put the gas out. Slipping into some garments I opened the door. There stood Mrs. Barnes, with a lighted candle in her hand. For some cause or other she was in a state of unmistakable uneasiness. She looked white and haggard.

      "I cannot find the waiter," she said.

      "You cannot find the waiter!" I stared. "I am sorry to hear it, if you want to find him. But may I ask what that has to do with me?"

      "I believe it has a good deal to do with you. What took place between you in the coffee-room?"

      "Really, I am not aware that anything took place between us in the coffee-room that was of interest to you."

      She came a step forward. Raising the lighted candle, she almost thrust it in my face. She stared at me with strained and eager eyes. She seemed to see something in my face: though what there was to see, except bewilderment, was more than I could guess.

      "I don't believe you. You are deceiving me. Did you quarrel with him? Who are you? Tell me! I have a right to know-I am his wife!"

      "His wife!" Complications seemed to be increasing. "I thought your name was Barnes."

      "So is his name Barnes. What has happened? What do you know about him? Tell me."

      "What do I know about him? I know nothing. So far as I am aware, I never saw the man in my life before."

      "I don't believe you-you are lying! Where has he gone, and why? You shall tell me-I'll make you!"

      She forced her way into the room; in doing so she forced me back. When she was in, she shut the door and stood with her back to it. Her voice had risen to a scream. Her manner almost threatened personal violence. I felt that the hotel to which I had been introduced was conducted on lines with which I had not been hitherto familiar.

      "If, as you say, and as I have no reason to doubt, this person СКАЧАТЬ