Robert Falconer by George MacDonald (good inspirational books TXT) 📖

my face. I did not quite lose my senses, though, for I remember seeing yet another man-a tall fellow, coming out of the gloom of the court. How it came into my mind, I do not know, and what I said I do not remember, but I must have mentioned Falconer's name somehow.

The man they called Slicer, said,

'Who's he? Don't know the-.'

Words followed which I cannot write.

'What! you devil's gossoon!' returned an Irish voice I had not heard before. 'You don't know Long Bob, you gonnof!'

All that passed I heard distinctly, but I was in a half faint, I suppose, for I could no longer see.

'Now what the devil in a dice-box do you mean?' said Slicer, possessing himself of my watch. 'Who is the blasted cove?-not that I care a flash of damnation.'

'A man as 'll knock you down if he thinks you want it, or give you a half-a-crown if he thinks you want it-all's one to him, only he'll have the choosing which.'

'What the hell's that to me? Look spry. He mustn't lie there all night. It's too near the ken. Come along, you Scotch haddock.'

I was aware of a kick in the side as he spoke.

'I tell you what it is, Slicer,' said one whose voice I had not yet heard, 'if so be this gentleman's a friend of Long Bob, you just let him alone, I say.'

I opened my eyes now, and saw before me a tall rather slender man in a big loose dress-coat, to whom Slicer had turned with the words,

'You say! Ha! ha! Well, I say-There's my Scotch haddock! who'll touch him?'

'I'll take him home,' said the tall man, advancing towards me. I made an attempt to rise. But I grew deadly ill, fell back, and remember nothing more.

When I came to myself I was lying on a bed in a miserable place. A middle-aged woman of degraded countenance, but kindly eyes, was putting something to my mouth with a teaspoon: I knew it by the smell to be gin. But I could not yet move. They began to talk about me, and I lay and listened. Indeed, while I listened, I lost for a time all inclination to get up, I was so much interested in what I heard.

'He's comin' to hisself,' said the woman. 'He'll be all right by and by. I wonder what brings the likes of him into the likes of this place. It must look a kind of hell to them gentle-folks, though we manage to live and die in it.'

'I suppose,' said another, 'he's come on some of Mr. Falconer's business.'

'That's why Job's took him in charge. They say he was after somebody or other, they think.-No friend of Mr. Falconer's would be after another for any mischief,' said my hostess.

'But who is this Mr. Falconer?-Is Long Bob and he both the same alias?' asked a third.

'Why, Bessy, ain't you no better than that damned Slicer, who ought to ha' been hung up to dry this many a year? But to be sure you 'ain't been long in our quarter. Why, every child hereabouts knows Mr. Falconer. Ask Bobby there.'

'Who's Mr. Falconer, Bobby?'

A child's voice made reply,

'A man with a long, long beard, that goes about, and sometimes grows tired and sits on a door-step. I see him once. But he ain't Mr. Falconer, nor Long Bob neither,' added Bobby in a mysterious tone. 'I know who he is.'

'What do you mean, Bobby? Who is he, then?'

The child answered very slowly and solemnly,

'He's Jesus Christ.'

The woman burst into a rude laugh.

'Well,' said Bobby in an offended tone, 'Slicer's own Tom says so, and Polly too. We all says so. He allus pats me on the head, and gives me a penny.'

Here Bobby began to cry, bitterly offended at the way Bessy had received his information, after considering him sufficiently important to have his opinion asked.

'True enough,' said his mother. 'I see him once a-sittin' on a door-step, lookin' straight afore him, and worn-out like, an' a lot o' them childer standin' all about him, an' starin' at him as mum as mice, for fear of disturbin' of him. When I come near, he got up with a smile on his face, and give each on 'em a penny all round, and walked away. Some do say he's a bit crazed like; but I never saw no sign o' that; and if any one ought to know, that one's Job's Mary; and you may believe me when I tell you that he was here night an' mornin' for a week, and after that off and on, when we was all down in the cholerer. Ne'er a one of us would ha' come through but for him.'

I made an attempt to rise. The woman came to my bedside.

'How does the gentleman feel hisself now?' she asked kindly.

'Better, thank you,' I said. 'I am ashamed of lying like this, but I feel very queer.'

'And it's no wonder, when that devil Slicer give you one o' his even down blows on the top o' your head. Nobody knows what he carry in his sleeve that he do it with-only you've got off well, young man, and that I tell you, with a decent cut like that. Only don't you go tryin' to get up now. Don't be in a hurry till your blood comes back like.'

I lay still again for a little. When I lifted my hand to my head, I found it was bandaged up. I tried again to rise. The woman went to the door, and called out,

'Job, the gentleman's feelin' better. He'll soon be able to move, I think. What will you do with him now?'

'I'll go and get a cab,' said Job; and I heard him go down a stair.

I raised myself, and got on the floor, but found I could not stand. By the time the cab arrived, however, I was able to crawl to it. When Job came, I saw the same tall thin man in the long dress coat. His head was bound up too.

'I am sorry to see you too have been hurt-for my sake, of course,' I said. 'Is it a bad blow?'

'Oh! it ain't over much. I got in with a smeller afore he came right down with his slogger. But I say, I hope as how you are a friend of Mr. Falconer's, for you see we can't afford the likes of this in this quarter for every chance that falls in Slicer's way. Gentlemen has no business here.'

'On the contrary, I mean to come again soon, to thank you all for being so good to me.'

'Well, when you comes next, you'd better come with him, you know.'

'You mean with Mr. Falconer?'

'Yes, who else? But are you able to go now? for the sooner you're out of this the better.'

'Quite able. Just give me your arm.'

He offered it kindly. Taking a grateful farewell of my hostess, I put my hand in my pocket, but there was nothing there. Job led me to the mouth of the court, where a cab, evidently of a sort with the neighbourhood, was waiting for us. I got in. Job was shutting the door.

'Come along with me, Job,' I said. 'I'm going straight to Mr. Falconer's. He will like to see you, especially after your kindness to me.'

'Well, I don't mind if I do look arter you a little longer; for to tell the truth,' said Job, as he opened the door, and got in beside me, 'I don't over and above like the look of the-horse.'

'It's no use trying to rob me over again,' I said; but he gave no reply. He only shouted to the cabman to drive to John Street, telling him the number.

I can scarcely recall anything more till we reached Falconer's chambers. Job got out and rang the bell. Mrs. Ashton came down. Her master was not come home.

'Tell Mr. Falconer,' I said, 'that I'm all right, only I couldn't make anything of it.'

'Tell him,' growled Job, 'that he's got his head broken, and won't be out o' bed to-morrow. That's the way with them fine-bred ones. They lies a-bed when the likes o' me must go out what they calls a-custamongering, broken head and all.'

'You shall stay at home for a week if you like, Job-that is if I've got enough to give you a week's earnings. I'm not sure though till I look, for I'm not a rich man any more than yourself.'

'Rubbish!' said Job as he got in again; 'I was only flummuxing the old un. Bless your heart, sir, I wouldn't stay in-not for nothink. Not for a bit of a pat on the crown, nohow. Home ain't none so nice a place to go snoozing in-nohow. Where do you go to, gov'nor?'

I told him. When I got out, and was opening the door, leaning on his arm, I said I was very glad they hadn't taken my keys.

'Slicer nor Savoury Sam neither's none the better o' you, and I hopes you're not much the worse for them,' said Job, as he put into my hands my purse and watch. 'Count it, gov'nor, and see if it's all right. Them pusses is mannyfactered express for the convenience o' the fakers. Take my advice, sir, and keep a yellow dump (sovereign) in yer coat-tails, a flatch yenork (half-crown) in yer waistcoat, and yer yeneps (pence) in yer breeches. You won't lose much nohow then. Good-night, sir, and I wish you better.'

'But I must give you something for plaster,' I said. 'You'll take a yellow dump, at least?'

'We'll talk about that another day,' said Job; and with a second still heartier good-night, he left me. I managed to crawl up to my room, and fell on my bed once more fainting. But I soon recovered sufficiently to undress and get into it. I was feverish all night and next day, but towards evening begun to recover.

I kept expecting Falconer to come and inquire after me; but he never came. Nor did he appear the next day or the next, and I began to be very uneasy about him. The fourth day I sent for a cab, and drove to John Street. He was at home, but Mrs. Ashton, instead of showing me into his room, led me into her kitchen, and left me there.

A minute after, Falconer came to me. The instant I saw him I understood it all. I read it in his face: he had found his father.


CHAPTER XII.

ANDREW AT LAST.

Having at length persuaded the woman to go with him, Falconer made her take his arm, and led her off the bridge. In Parliament Street he was looking about for a cab as they walked on, when a man he did not know, stopped, touched his hat, and addressed him.