"You ain"t of a wery obleeging turn, be yer? You couldn"t help me, now, ter find a guilty party?"
"You seems a wery rum chap," said Harris rather crossly.
"I don"t know nothink "bout yer guilty parties. There, be off, can"t yer!"
"I"ll be off in a twinkle, master. I ain"t rum a bit; my mother allers said as I wor a real quiet boy; but when my heart is full to bustin" it seems a relief to talk to a body, and you, tho" yer puts on bein"
fierce, have a kind nature."
"Now, what hever do yer mean by that?"
"Master, you must furgive a wery timid and heasily repulsed boy; but it ain"t possible, even fur one so known to be frightened as me, to be feared of yer. I reads yer kindness in yer heyes, master, and so I makes bold to tell my tale o" woe."
"Well, tell away," said Harris, who could not help laughing and looking a little less gruff than before.
"You wouldn"t be inclined, now, that we should have hour talk hover a pint of hot coffee? There"s a heatin-house where the young man have took down the shutters and is dusting away in a manner as his real appetizing. I has fourpence in my pocket. You wouldn"t mind my treating yer, jest fer once, would yer?"
"Not in the least, youngster. I think it"ll be a wery sensible use to put yer money to, and a deal more prudent than spending it in marbles or street plays."
"Master, my mother don"t allow me to play at marbles, or to hindulge in street wanities, so I has the money and can afford ter be generous. Now let"s enter. I smells the coffee a-grinding hup fur hour breakfasts halready."
So Harris and Pickles went in to the eating-house, where in a moment or two, over two steaming cups of excellent coffee, Pickles proceeded to unburden himself of his story.
"It is only a few days agone, master, as the occurrence as distresses me happened. I wor walking along a certain street wot shall be nameless. I wor walking along bravely, as is my wont, and thinking of my mother, when I see"d a young gel a-flying past me. She wor a wery short, stout gel, and her legs they quite waggled as she ran. I never see"d a gel run so wery hard afore, and I p.r.i.c.ked hup my senses to guess wot it hall meant. Soon wor the mystery explained. I heerd ahind of her the cry of "Stop thief!" and a number of men and boys were a-giving of her chase. I thought as I"d run wid "em and see what it hall meant.
"Presently we shall come up wid the gel. There she wor in the arms of a policeman. He wor a-clutching of her, and trying to find hout wot wor the matter; but she wor so blown she couldn"t speak fur a good bit. Then hup comes a man wot said as he had a p.a.w.nshop, and that inter the p.a.w.nshop had come a man and a gel ter buy a ring, and when they come hout there wor a diamond locket missing. He said as either the gel or the man "ad tuk the locket; and as the man could not be found, he must get the policeman to search the gel. The poor fat gel, she looked quite scared, and said as she hadn"t done it; but the nipper said as she must be searched, and he put in his hand inter her pocket and drew hout the diamond locket. She said as she had never put it there. But, in course, it worn"t ter be expected as they"d believe her, so she were tuk orf ter prison. She wor tuk orf ter prison--I see"d her myself."
Here Pickles paused. Nothing could have been more refined and delicate than the use he had made of his eyes during this narrative; only very quick and fleeting glances did he bestow upon his companion.
When Harris at the commencement of his tale started and changed color, Pickles dropped a piece of bread, and stayed under the table looking for it until the man had quite recovered his composure. When his short story had come to an end he paused; then he said, still without bestowing more than the swiftest side-glance on Harris, "The poor fat gel were tuk orf to the lock-hup. But "tis borne bin on me, master--"tis borne him on me, and I can"t get no rest day nor night--as that yer gel were hinnercent.
I believe as she never tuk the locket, and I think that ef ye"re as kind-hearted as yer looks yer"ll help me ter find that other guilty party."
Harris rose to his feet.
"Don"t be a fool, lad," he said angrily. "I have no time ter give ter sech nonsense. I"m soory fur the gel, but ef she had the locket, of course she tuk the locket. There! I can waste no time. I"ll pay fur my hown coffee. Good-morning."
"Good-morning, master, and thank yer. I"m glad as ye"re sorry fur the gel; she have a lame brother as must miss her, and her case "ull go heavy, I fear. It seems as it might be a good work ter find the guilty party. I think as it wor the man as went with her inter the shop. I mean ter attend the trial, and I"ll mention, ef permitted, my suspicions. But I won"t keep yer longer. Sorry again as yer won"t oblige me, I"ll go home now and consult my mother."
All the way back to Great Anvill Street, where Mrs. Price lived, Pickles danced a hornpipe.
"I"ve nailed him at last," he said, chuckling and laughing and dancing all in one breath. "Now to put on the torture screw until he confesses!
Oh Pickles, my boy, _wot_ a treasure you"ll prove yerself in Scotland Yard!"
CHAPTER XXVII.
DELAYED TRIAL.
It is quite true that Pickles had put on the torture screw. Harris felt exceedingly uncomfortable as he walked home. It was a fact, then, that Sue had been caught and put in prison. That disagreeable boy had seen it all; he had witnessed her rapid flight; he had heard her protestations of innocence; he had seen her carried off to prison. Sue, so good and brave and honest, would be convicted of theft and would have to bear the penalty of theft--of another"s theft, not her own. What a foolish girl she had been to run away! Of course, it made her guilt seem all the plainer. There was not a loophole of escape for her. She was certain to be found guilty; probably to-day she would be brought before the magistrate and sentence p.r.o.nounced upon her. He wondered what magistrate would try her; how long her punishment would last. Had he dared he would have attended her trial. But he did not dare. That red-haired boy--that most unpleasant, impudent boy--would probably be there. There was no saying what things he might say. He would probably appear as a witness, and nothing would keep that giddy tongue of his quiet. What a very queer boy he was, and how strange were his suspicions! When any one else in all the world would have accepted Sue"s guilt as beyond doubt or question, he persisted in declaring her innocent. Nay, more than that, he had even declared that the man who had gone with her into the shop was the guilty person. Harris knew there was no proof against the man.
No one had seen him take the locket; no one had witnessed its transfer into Sue"s pocket. The man was safe enough. No one living could bring his guilt home to him.
But stay a moment! A horrible fear came over him. Why did that boy speak like that? He saw Sue running away. Perhaps he had seen more than that.
Perhaps he had come on the platform of events earlier in the narrative.
Harris felt the cold sweat starting to his forehead as it occurred to him that that awful boy had reason for his talk--that he _knew_ to whom he was speaking. When Harris took the locket he might have been flattening his nose against the window-pane at the p.a.w.nbroker"s; he might have seen all that was taking place. What was to be done? He could not confess, and yet if he didn"t he was in horrible danger; his present state was worse than any state he had been in before. Suppose Connie ever found out his meanness, his wickedness.
Harris was very fond of Connie just then. He had suffered during her absence. His home was pleasant to him--as pleasant as his guilty conscience would permit during those days, for little Giles was like no one else. Oh, could the awful moment ever come when Giles would look at him with reproachful eyes--when Giles would turn away from him? The miserable man felt that were such a time to arrive it would be almost as bad as the knowledge that G.o.d Himself could not forgive him. He was distracted, miserable; he must find a refuge from his guilty thoughts.
A public-house stood handy. He had not really taken too much for a long time now--not since that terrible night when, owing to drink, he had turned his child from his door. But he would forget his misery now in drink.
"That dreadful boy!" he muttered--"that dreadful, dreadful boy, with hair like a flame, and eyes that peered into you like gimlets!"
Harris pa.s.sed through the great swing-doors. His good angel must almost have disappeared at that moment.
Meanwhile Connie and Giles watched and waited in vain for Sue. She was coming to-day--she was coming to-morrow. But the weary hours went by and no Sue arrived; there was no message from her. Harris went oftener and oftener to the public-house, and brought less and less of his wages home, and Giles faded and faded, and Connie also looked very sad and weary.
Once Connie said to Giles, when nearly a month had gone by:
"Yer"ll "ave to give up that notion "bout the country, Giles, for "tain"t true."
"Yus, I believe I must give it up," said Giles.
"Ain"t yer anxious now "bout dear Sue?" asked Connie.
"Not wery," said Giles. "Ef she ain"t in the country, the good Lord "ave her safe somewhere else--that"s wot I"m a-thinkin" of. Father John said to me we"en he come last as trials of this sort are good for me."
"You "ave nothing but trials, poor Giles!" said Connie.
"Oh no," answered Giles; "I ha" lots o" blessings--you and Big Ben, the beautiful Woice, you know. Connie, some"ow I think as my wings is growin" wery fast. I think w"en they"re full-grown----"
"Wot then?" asked Connie.
"Why, I"ll fly away. I can"t "ardly believe as a poor little lame boy like me could fly up higher than the stars, but that"s wot "ull "appen.
I picter it wery often--me no longer tied down to my bed, but with wings, flyin" about as strong as the angels. Only Father John says I"ll be higher than the angels, for I"ll be one o" the ransomed o" the Lord.
I"ll see Father John, too, an" you"ll come after a bit, an" Sue "ull come. I can"t fret no, I can"t."
After this Connie went for the doctor, and the doctor said that the boy was very ill--that he might linger a few weeks more, but his sufferings were growing less, and that Connie"s kind care was effecting wonders for him.
The weeks went by. Harris grew accustomed to his sense of guilt, and Sue to her captivity. Pickles was anxiously looking forward to a crisis.
Harris, after giving way to drink for several days, refrained again and worked steadily. He brought in, in consequence, good wages, and Connie and Giles wanted for nothing. It was the one salve to his conscience, this making of Giles comfortable; otherwise, notwithstanding the manifest amendment of his ways, he was scarcely happy. Indeed, Pickles took care that he should not be so. In the most unlikely and unexpected places this dreadful boy would dart upon him, and more and more certain was Harris that he not only knew his secret, but had witnessed his guilt. Harris would have fled miles from the boy, but the boy would not be fled from. He acted as a perpetual blister on the man"s already sore conscience, and Harris almost hated him.
His first resolve to confide in Pickles and bribe him into silence had long ago died away. He dared not even offer to bribe him; the perfectly fearless and uncorrupt spirit which looked out of the eyes of the boy would be, he knew, proof against all that he could do in the matter of either rewards or punishments. No; all that Harris could do was to maintain as imperturbable a spirit as possible while Pickles expatiated upon the cruel fate of Sue. As far as he could dare question him, he learned from Pickles that Sue had not been yet tried even before the magistrate. He wondered greatly at this delay, and Pickles, who read his wonder in his eyes, remarked lightly that the reason of this long postponement was because the police were busy looking for the guilty party.
"Whether they finds him or not," concluded Pickles, "it must come off soon now, fur I"m told that the expense of keeping Sue is breaking that "ere lock-hup. I "spect as it "ull be the finest bit o" a trial as have been fur many a day. I means to be there. And you"ll come, won"t yer, Mr. Harris?"
"I"m sick o" the subject," said Harris.