The Greatest Thrillers of Fergus Hume. Fergus Hume
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see! You are more fortunate in knowing his lordship himself,’ said the chaplain, with great simplicity.
The stranger plucked at his worn sleeve with a look of irony. ‘Do I look as though I were acquainted with bishops?’ said he, scoffingly. ‘Is this the kind of coat likely to be admitted into episcopalian palaces?’
‘Yet it was admitted, sir. If I am not mistaken you called at the palace two nights ago.’
‘Did you see me?’
‘Certainly I saw you,’ replied Cargrim, salving his conscience with the Jesuitic saying that the end justifies the means. ‘And I was informed that you were a decayed clergyman seeking assistance.’
‘I have been most things in my time,’ observed the stranger, gloomily, ‘but not a parson. You are one, I perceive.’
Cargrim bowed. ‘I am the chaplain of Bishop Pendle.’
‘And the busybody of Beorminster, I should say,’ rejoined the man with a sneer. ‘See here, my friend,’ and he rapped Cargrim on the breast with a shapely hand, ‘if you interfere in what does not concern you, there will be trouble. I saw Dr Pendle on private business, and as such it has nothing to do with you. Hold your tongue, you black crow, and keep away from me,’ cried the stranger, with sudden ferocity, ‘or I’ll knock your head off. Now you know,’ and with a fierce glance the man moved out of the doorway and sauntered round the corner before Cargrim could make up his mind how to resent this insolence.
‘Hum!’ said he to himself, with a glance at the tall retiring figure, ‘that is a nice friend for a bishop to have. He’s a jail-bird if I mistake not; and he is afraid of my finding out his business with Pendle. Birds of a feather,’ sighed Mr Cargrim, entering the hotel. ‘I fear, I sadly fear that his lordship is but a whited sepulchre. A look into the bishop’s past might show me many things of moment,’ and the fat living of Heathcroft seemed almost within Cargrim’s grasp as he came to this conclusion.
‘Now then, sir,’ interrupted a sharp but pleasant female voice, ‘and what may you want?’
Mr Cargrim wheeled round to answer this question, and found himself face to face with a bar, glittering with brass and crystal and bright-hued liquors in fat glass barrels; also with an extremely handsome young woman, dressed in an astonishing variety of colours. She was high-coloured and frank-eyed, with a great quantity of very black hair twisted into many amazing shapes on the top of her head. In manner she was as brisk as a bee and as restless as a butterfly; and being adorned with a vast quantity of bracelets, and lockets, and brooches, all of gaudy patterns, jingled at every movement. This young lady was Miss Bell Mosk, whom the frequenters of The Derby Winner called ‘a dashing beauty,’ and Mrs Pansey ‘a painted jade.’ With her glittering ornaments, her bright blue dress, her high colour, and general air of vivacity, she glowed and twinkled in the lamp-light like some gorgeous-plumaged parrot; and her free speech and constant chatter might have been ascribed to the same bird.
‘Miss Mosk, I believe,’ said the polite Cargrim, marvelling that this gaudy female should be the refined Gabriel’s notion of feminine perfection.
‘I am Miss Mosk,’ replied Bell, taking a comprehensive view of the sleek, black-clothed parson. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘I am Mr Cargrim, the bishop’s chaplain, Miss Mosk, and I wish to see Mr Pendle—Mr Gabriel Pendle.’
Bell flushed as red as the reddest cabbage rose, and with downcast eyes wiped the counter briskly with a duster. ‘Why should you come here to ask for Mr Pendle?’ said she, in guarded tones.
‘I called at his lodgings, Miss Mosk, and I was informed that he was visiting a sick person here.’
‘My mother!’ replied Bell, not knowing what an amazing lie the chaplain was telling. ‘Yes! Mr Pendle comes often to see—my mother.’
‘Is he here now?’ asked Cargrim, noticing the hesitancy at the end of her sentence; ‘because I wish to speak with him on business.’
‘He is upstairs. I daresay he’ll be down soon.’
‘Oh, don’t disturb him for my sake, I beg. But if you will permit me I shall go up and see Mrs Mosk.’
‘Here comes Mr Pendle now,’ said Bell, abruptly, and withdrew into the interior of the bar as Gabriel appeared at the end of the passage. He started and seemed uneasy when he recognised the chaplain.
‘Cargrim!’ he cried, hurrying forward. ‘Why are you here?’ and he gave a nervous glance in the direction of the bar; a glance which the chaplain saw and understood, but discreetly left unnoticed.
‘I wish to see you,’ he replied, with great simplicity; ‘they told me at your lodgings that you might be here, so—’
‘Why!’ interrupted Gabriel, sharply, ‘I left no message to that effect.’
Cargrim saw that he had made a mistake. ‘I speak generally, my dear friend—generally,’ he said in some haste. ‘Your worthy landlady mentioned several houses in which you were in the habit of seeing sick people—amongst others this hotel.’
‘Mrs Mosk is very ill. I have been seeing her,’ said Gabriel, shortly.
‘Ay! ay! you have been seeing Mrs Mosk!’
Gabriel changed colour and cast another glance towards the bar, for the significance of Cargrim’s speech was not lost on him. ‘Do you wish to speak with me?’ he asked coldly.
‘I should esteem it a favour if you would allow me a few words,’ said Cargrim, politely. ‘I’ll wait for you—outside,’ and in his turn the chaplain looked towards the bar.
‘Thank you, I can come with you now,’ was Gabriel’s reply, made with a burning desire to knock Cargrim down. ‘Miss Mosk, I am glad to find that your mother is easier in her mind.’
‘It’s all due to you, Mr Pendle,’ said Bell, moving forward with a toss of her head directed especially at Mr Cargrim. ‘Your visits do mother a great deal of good.’
‘I am sure they do,’ said the chaplain, not able to forego giving the girl a scratch of his claws. ‘Mr Pendle’s visits here must be delightful to everybody.’
‘I daresay,’ retorted Bell, with heightened colour, ‘other people’s visits would not be so welcome.’
‘Perhaps not, Miss Mosk. Mr Pendle has many amiable qualities to recommend him. He is a general and deserved favourite.’
‘Come, come, Cargrim,’ interposed Gabriel, anxiously, for the fair Bell’s temper was rapidly getting the better of her; ‘if you are ready we shall go. Good evening, Miss Mosk.’
‘Good evening, Mr Pendle,’ said the barmaid, and directed a spiteful look at Cargrim, for she saw plainly that he had intentionally deprived her of a confidential conversation with Gabriel. The chaplain received the look—which he quite understood—with an amused smile and a bland inclination of the head. As he walked out arm-in-arm with the reluctant Pendle, Bell banged the pewters and glasses about with considerable energy, for the significant demeanour of Cargrim annoyed her so much that she felt a great inclination to throw something at his head. But then, Miss Mosk was a high-spirited girl and believed in actions rather than speech, even though she possessed a fair command of the latter.
‘Well, Cargrim,’ said Gabriel, when he found himself in the street with his uncongenial companion, ‘what is it?’
‘It’s about the bishop.’
‘My father! Is there anything the matter with him?’
‘I fear so. He told me that he was going to London.’
‘What of that?’ said Gabriel, impatiently. ‘He told me the same thing yesterday. Has he gone?’
‘He left by the afternoon train. Do you know