The Greatest Thrillers of Fergus Hume. Fergus Hume
Читать онлайн книгу.
of disgust, and he walked briskly into the hotel, to where Mr Mosk and Bell were dispensing drinks as fast as they were able. The crowd, having an inherent respect for the clergy, as became the inhabitants of a cathedral city, opened out to let him pass, and there was much less swearing and drinking when his black coat and clerical collar came into view. Mosk saw that the appearance of the chaplain was detrimental to business, and resenting his presence gave him but a surly greeting. As to Bell, she tossed her head, shot a withering glance of defiance at the bland new-comer, and withdrew to the far end of the bar.
‘My friend,’ said Cargrim, in his softest tones, ‘I have come to see your wife and inquire how she is.’
‘She’s well enough,’ growled Mosk, pushing a foaming tankard towards an expectant navvy, ‘and what’s more, sir, she’s asleep, sir, so you can’t see her.’
‘I should be sorry to disturb her, Mr Mosk, so I will postpone my visit till a more fitted occasion. You seem to be busy to-night.’
‘So busy that I’ve got no time for talking, sir.’
‘Far be it from me to distract your attention, my worthy friend,’ was the chaplain’s bland reply, ‘but with your permission I will remain in this corner and enjoy the humours of the scene.’
Mosk inwardly cursed the visitor for making this modest request, as he detested parsons on account of their aptitude to make teetotalers of his customers. He was a brute in his way, and a Radical to boot, so if he had dared he would have driven forth Cargrim with a few choice oaths. But as his visitor was the chaplain of the ecclesiastical sovereign of Beorminster, and was acquainted with Sir Harry Brace, the owner of the hotel, and further, as Mosk could not pay his rent and was already in bad odour with his landlord, he judged it wise to be diplomatic, lest a word from Cargrim to the bishop and Sir Harry should make matters worse. He therefore grudgingly gave the required permission.
‘Though this ain’t a sight fit for the likes of you, sir,’ he grumbled, waving his hand. ‘This lot smells and they swears, and they gets rowdy in their cups, so I won’t answer as they won’t offend you.’
‘My duty has carried me into much more unsavoury localities, my friend. The worse the place the more is my presence, as a clergyman, necessary.’
‘You ain’t going to preach, sir?’ cried Mosk, in alarm.
‘No! that would indeed be casting pearls before swine, replied Cargrim, in his cool tones. ‘But I will observe and reflect.’
The landlord looked uneasy. ‘I know as the place is rough,’ he said apologetically, ‘but ‘tain’t my fault. You won’t go talking to Sir Harry, I hope, sir, and take the bread out of my mouth?’
‘Make your mind easy, Mosk. It is not my place to carry tales to your landlord; and I am aware that the lower orders cannot conduct themselves with decorum, especially on Saturday night. I repine that such a scene should be possible in a Christian land, but I don’t blame you for its existence.’
‘That’s all right, sir,’ said Mosk, with a sigh of relief. ‘I’m rough but honest, whatever lies may be told to the contrary. If I can’t pay my rent, that ain’t my fault, I hope, as it ain’t to be expected as I can do miracles.’
‘The age of miracles is past, my worthy friend,’ replied Cargrim, in conciliatory tones. ‘We must not expect the impossible nowadays. By the way’—with a sudden change—‘have you a man called Jentham here?’
‘Yes, I have,’ growled Mosk, looking suspiciously at his questioner. ‘What do you know of him, sir?’
‘Nothing; but I take an interest in him as he seems to be one who has known better days.’
‘He don’t know them now, at all events, Mr Cargrim. He owes me money for this last week, he does. He paid all right at fust, but he don’t pay now.’
‘Indeed,’ said the chaplain, pricking up his ears, ‘he owes you money?’
‘That he does; more nor two quid, sir. But he says he’ll pay me soon.’
‘Ah! he says he’ll pay you soon,’ repeated Cargrim; ‘he expects to receive money, then?’
‘I s’pose so, tho’ Lord knows!—I beg pardon, sir—tho’ goodness knows where it’s coming from. He don’t work or get wages as I can see.’
‘I think I know,’ thought Cargrim; then added aloud, ‘Is the man here?’
‘In the coffee-room yonder, sir. Half drunk he is, and lying like a good one. The yarns he reels off is wonderful.’
‘No doubt; a man like that must be interesting to listen to. With your permission, Mr Mosk, I’ll go into the coffee-room.’
‘Straight ahead, sir. Will you take something to drink, if I may make so bold, Mr Cargrim?’
‘No, my friend, no; thank you all the same,’ and with a nod Cargrim pushed his way into the coffee-room to see the man with the scar.
Chapter IX.
An Exciting Adventure
Mr Cargrim found a considerable number of people in the coffee-room, and these, with tankards and glasses before them, were listening to the conversation of Jentham. Tobacco smoke filled the apartment with a thick atmosphere of fog, through which the gas-lights flared in a nebulous fashion, and rendered the air so hot that it was difficult to breathe in spite of the windows being open. At the head of the long table sat Jentham, drinking brandy-and-soda, and speaking in his cracked, refined voice with considerable spirit, his rat-like, quick eyes glittering the while with alcoholic lustre. He seemed to be considerably under the influence of drink, and his voice ran up and down from bass to treble as he became excited in narrating his adventures.
Whether these were true or false Cargrim could not determine; for although the man trenched again and again on the marvellous, he certainly seemed to be fully acquainted with what he was talking about, and related the most wonderful stories in a thoroughly dramatic fashion. Like Ulysses, he knew men and cities, and appeared to have travelled as much as that famous globe-trotter. In his narration he passed from China to Chili, sailed north to the Pole, steamed south to the Horn, described the paradise of the South Seas, and discoursed about the wild wastes of snowy Siberia. The capitals of Europe appeared to be as familiar to him as the chair he was seated in; and the steppes of Russia, the deserts of Africa, the sheep runs of Australia were all mentioned in turn, as adventure after adventure fell from his lips. And mixed up with these geographical accounts were thrilling tales of treasure-hunting, of escapes from savages, of perilous deeds in the secret places of great cities; and details of blood, and war, and lust, and hate, all told in a fiercely dramatic fashion. The man was a tramp, a gipsy, a ragged, penniless rolling-stone; but in his own way he was a genius. Cargrim wondered, with all his bravery, and endurance, and resource, that he had not made his fortune. The eloquent scamp seemed to wonder also.
‘For,’ said he, striking the table with his fist, ‘I have never been able to hold what I won. I’ve been a millionaire twice over, but the gold wouldn’t stay; it drifted away, it was swept away, it vanished, like Macbeth’s witches, into thin air. Look at me, you country cabbages! I’ve reigned a king amongst savages. A poor sort of king, say you; but a king’s a king, say I; and king I have been. Yet here I am, sitting in a Beorminster gutter, but I don’t stay in it. By ——,’ he confirmed his purpose with an oath, ‘not I. I’ve got my plans laid, and they’ll lift me up to the stars yet.’
‘Hev you the money, mister?’ inquired a sceptical listener.
‘What’s that to you?’ cried Jentham, and finished his drink. ‘Yes, I have money!’ He set down his empty glass with a bang. ‘At least I know where to get it. Bah! you fools, one