The Famous Cases of Dr. Thorndyke (Illustrated). R. Austin Freeman

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СКАЧАТЬ his gaze as Elton turned on him a look eloquent of contempt and dislike. There was another pause, for Elton made no reply to the last observation; then Gordon changed over from one arm to the other the heavy fur overcoat that he was carrying. “Needn’t have brought this beastly thing,” he remarked, “if I’d known it was going to be so warm.”

      “Shall I carry it for you a little way?” asked the naturally polite Elton.

      “If you would, dear boy,” replied Gordon. “It’s difficult to manage an overcoat, an umbrella and cigar all at once.”

      He handed over the coat with a sigh of relief, and having straightened himself and expanded his chest, remarked: “I suppose you’re beginning to do quite well now, Tom?”

      Elton shook his head gloomily. “No,” he answered, “it’s the same old grind.”

      “But surely they’re beginning to recognise your talents by this time,” said Gordon, with the persuasive air of a counsel.

      “That’s just the trouble,” said Elton. “You see, I haven’t any, and they recognised the fact long ago. I’m just a journeyman, and journeyman’s work is what I get given to me.”

      “You mean to say that the editors don’t appreciate talent when they see it.”

      “I don’t know about that,” said Elton, “but they’re most infernally appreciative of the lack of it.”

      Gordon blew out a great cloud of smoke, and raised his eyebrows reflectively. “Do you think,” he said after a brief pause, “you give ‘em a fair chance? I’ve seen some of your stuff. It’s blooming prim, you know. Why don’t you try something more lively? More skittish, you know, old chap; something with legs, you know, and high shoes. See what I mean, old chap? High with good full calves and not too fat in the ankle. That ought to fetch ‘em; don’t you think so?”

      Elton scowled. “You’re thinking of the drawings in ‘Hold Me Up,’” he said scornfully, “but you’re mistaken. Any fool can draw a champagne bottle upside down with a French shoe at the end of it.”

      “No doubt, dear boy,” said Gordon, “but I expect that sort of fool knows what pays.”

      “A good many fools seem to know that much,” retorted Elton; and then he was sorry he had spoken, for Gordon was not really an amiable man, and the expression of his face suggested that he had read a personal application into the rejoinder. So, once more, the two men walked on in silence.

      Presently their footsteps led them to the margin of the weed-covered rocks, and here, from under a high heap of bladder-wrack, a large green shorecrab rushed out and menaced them with uplifted claws. Gordon stopped and stared at the creature with Cockney surprise, prodding it with his umbrella, and speculating aloud as to whether it was good to eat. The crab, as if alarmed at the suggestion, suddenly darted away and began to scuttle over the green-clad rocks, finally plunging into a large, deep pool. Gordon pursued it, hobbling awkwardly over the slippery rocks, until he came to the edge of the pool, over which he stooped, raking inquisitively among the weedy fringe with his umbrella. He was so much interested in his quarry that he failed to allow for the slippery surface on which he stood. The result was disastrous. Of a sudden, one foot began to slide forward, and when he tried to recover his balance, was instantly followed by the other. For a moment he struggled frantically to regain his footing, executing a sort of splashing, stamping dance on the margin. Then, the circling sea birds were startled by a yell of terror, an ivory-handled umbrella flew across the rocks, and Mr. Solomon Gordon took a complete header into the deepest part of the pool. What the crab thought of it history does not relate. What Mr. Gordon thought of it is unsuitable for publication; but, as he rose, like an extremely up-to-date merman, he expressed his sentiments with a wealth of adjectives that brought Elton in the verge of hysteria.

      “It’s a good job you brought your overcoat, after all,” Elton remarked for the sake of saying something, and thereby avoiding the risk of exploding into undeniable laughter. The Hebrew made no reply—at least, no reply that lends itself to verbatim report—but staggered towards the hospitable overcoat, holding out his dripping arms. Having inducted him into the garment and buttoned him up, Elton hurried off to recover the umbrella (and, incidentally, to indulge himself in a broad grin), and, having secured it, angled with it for the smart billycock which was floating across the pool.

      It was surprising what a change the last minute or two had wrought. The positions of the two men were now quite reversed. Despite his shabby clothing, Elton seemed to walk quite jauntily as compared with his shuddering companion who trotted by his side with short miserable steps, shrinking into the uttermost depths of his enveloping coat, like an alarmed winkle into its shell, puffing out his cheeks and anathematising the Universe in general as well as his chattering teeth would let him.

      For some time they hurried along towards the slope by the jetty without exchanging any further remarks; then suddenly, Elton asked: “What are you going to do, Gordon? You can’t travel like that.”

      “Can’t you lend me a change?” asked Gordon. Elton reflected. He had another suit, his best suit, which he had been careful to preserve in good condition for use on those occasions when a decent appearance was indispensable. He looked askance at the man by his side and something told him that the treasured suit would probably receive less careful treatment than it was accustomed to. Still the man couldn’t be allowed to go about in wet clothes.

      “I’ve got a spare suit,” he said. “It isn’t quite up to your style, and may not be much of a fit, but I daresay you’ll be able to put up with it for an hour or two.”

      “It’ll be dry anyhow,” mumbled Gordon, “so we won’t trouble about the style. How far is it to your rooms?”

      The plural number was superfluous. Elton’s room was in a little ancient flint house at the bottom of a narrow close in the old quarter of the town. You reached it without any formal preliminaries of bell or knocker by simply letting yourself in by a street door, crossing a tiny room, opening the door of what looked like a narrow cupboard, and squeezing up a diminutive flight of stairs, which was unexpectedly exposed to view. By following this procedure, the two men reached a small bed-sitting-room; that is to say, it was a bed room, but by sitting down on the bed, you converted it into a sitting-room.

      Gordon puffed out his cheeks and looked round distastefully.

      “You might just ring for some hot water, old chappie,” he said.

      Elton laughed aloud. “Ring!” he exclaimed. “Ring what? Your clothes are the only things that are likely to get wrung.”

      “Well, then, sing out for the servant,” said Gordon.

      Elton laughed again. “My dear fellow,” said he, “we don’t go in for servants. There is only my landlady and she never comes up here. She’s too fat to get up the stairs, and besides, she’s got a game leg. I look after my room myself. You’ll be all right if you have a good rub down.”

      Gordon groaned, and emerged reluctantly from the depths of his overcoat, while Elton brought forth from the chest of drawers the promised suit and the necessary undergarments. One of these latter Gordon held up with a sour smile, as he regarded it with extreme disfavour.

      “I shouldn’t think,” said he, “you need have been at the trouble of marking them so plainly. No one’s likely to want to run away with them.”

      The undergarments certainly contrasted very unfavourably with the delicate garments which he was peeling off, excepting in one respect; СКАЧАТЬ