Rudyard Kipling : The Complete Novels and Stories. Редьярд Джозеф Киплинг

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СКАЧАТЬ interest—means a hundred and sixty pounds a year; one hundred and twenty pounds a hear—also safe—is two eighty, and two hundred and eighty pounds added to three hundred a year means gilded luxury for a single woman. Bess, we’ll go to the bank.’

      Richer by two hundred and ten pounds stored in his money-belt, Dick caused Bessie, now thoroughly bewildered, to hurry from the bank to the P. and O. offices, where he explained things tersely.

      ‘Port Said, single first; cabin as close to the baggage-hatch as possible. What ship’s going?’

      ‘The Colgong,’ said the clerk.

      ‘She’s a wet little hooker. Is it Tilbury and a tender, or Galleons and the docks?’

      ‘Galleons. Twelve-forty, Thursday.’

      ‘Thanks. Change, please. I can’t see very well—will you count it into my hand?’

      ‘If they all took their passages like that instead of talking about their trunks, life would be worth something,’ said the clerk to his neighbour, who was trying to explain to a harassed mother of many that condensed milk is just as good for babes at sea as daily dairy. Being nineteen and unmarried, he spoke with conviction.

      ‘We are now,’ quoth Dick, as they returned to the studio, patting the place where his money-belt covered ticket and money, ‘beyond the reach of man, or devil, or woman—which is much more important. I’ve had three little affairs to carry through before Thursday, but I needn’t ask you to help, Bess. Come here on Thursday morning at nine. We’ll breakfast, and you shall take me down to Galleons Station.’

      ‘What are you going to do?’

      ‘Going away, of course. What should I stay for?’

      ‘But you can’t look after yourself?’

      ‘I can do anything. I didn’t realise it before, but I can. I’ve done a great deal already. Resolution shall be treated to one kiss if Bessie doesn’t object.’ Strangely enough, Bessie objected and Dick laughed. ‘I suppose you’re right. Well, come at nine the day after to-morrow and you’ll get your money.’

      ‘Shall I sure?’

      ‘I don’t bilk, and you won’t know whether I do or not unless you come. Oh, but it’s long and long to wait! Good-bye, Bessie,—send Beeton here as you go out.’

      The housekeeper came.

      ‘What are all the fittings of my rooms worth?’ said Dick, imperiously.

      ‘’Tisn’t for me to say, sir. Some things is very pretty and some is wore out dreadful.’

      ‘I’m insured for two hundred and seventy.’

      ‘Insurance policies is no criterion, though I don’t say——’

      ‘Oh, damn your longwindedness! You’ve made your pickings out of me and the other tenants. Why, you talked of retiring and buying a public-house the other day. Give a straight answer to a straight question.’

      ‘Fifty,’ said Mr. Beeton, without a moment’s hesitation.

      ‘Double it; or I’ll break up half my sticks and burn the rest.’

      He felt his way to a bookstand that supported a pile of sketch-books, and wrenched out one of the mahogany pillars.

      ‘That’s sinful, sir,’ said the housekeeper, alarmed.

      ‘It’s my own. One hundred or——’

      ‘One hundred it is. It’ll cost me three and six to get that there pilaster mended.’

      ‘I thought so. What an out and out swindler you must have been to spring that price at once!’

      ‘I hope I’ve done nothing to dissatisfy any of the tenants, least of all you, sir.’

      ‘Never mind that. Get me the money to-morrow, and see that all my clothes are packed in the little brown bullock-trunk. I’m going.’

      ‘But the quarter’s notice?’

      ‘I’ll pay forfeit. Look after the packing and leave me alone.’

      Mr. Beeton discussed this new departure with his wife, who decided that Bessie was at the bottom of it all. Her husband took a more charitable view.

      ‘It’s very sudden—but then he was always sudden in his ways. Listen to him now!’

      There was a sound of chanting from Dick’s room.

      ‘We’ll never come back any more, boys,

      We’ll never come back no more;

      We’ll go to the deuce on any excuse,

      And never come back no more!

      Oh say we’re afloat or ashore, boys,

      Oh say we’re afloat or ashore;

      But we’ll never come back any more, boys,

      We’ll never come back no more!’

      ‘Mr. Beeton! Mr. Beeton! Where the deuce is my pistol?’

      ‘Quick, he’s going to shoot himself—’avin’ gone mad!’ said Mrs. Beeton.

      Mr. Beeton addressed Dick soothingly, but it was some time before the latter, threshing up and down his bedroom, could realise the intention of the promises to ‘find everything to-morrow, sir.’

      ‘Oh, you copper-nosed old fool—you impotent Academician!’ he shouted at last. ‘Do you suppose I want to shoot myself? Take the pistol in your silly shaking hand then. If you touch it, it will go off, because it’s loaded. It’s among my campaign-kit somewhere—in the parcel at the bottom of the trunk.’

      Long ago Dick had carefully possessed himself of a forty-pound weight field-equipment constructed by the knowledge of his own experience. It was this put-away treasure that he was trying to find and rehandle. Mr. Beeton whipped the revolver out of its place on the top of the package, and Dick drove his hand among the khaki coat and breeches, the blue cloth leg-bands, and the heavy flannel shirts doubled over a pair of swan-neck spurs. Under these and the water-bottle lay a sketch-book and a pigskin case of stationery.

      ‘These we don’t want; you can have them, Mr. Beeton. Everything else I’ll keep. Pack ’em on the top right-hand side of my trunk. When you’ve done that come into the studio with your wife. I want you both. Wait a minute; get me a pen and a sheet of notepaper.’

      It is not an easy thing to write when you cannot see, and Dick had particular reasons for wishing that his work should be clear. So he began, following his right hand with his left: ‘“The badness of this writing is because I am blind and cannot see my pen.” H’mph!—even a lawyer can’t mistake that. It must be signed, I suppose, but it needn’t be witnessed. Now an inch lower—why did I never learn to use a type-writer?—“This is the last will СКАЧАТЬ