CHAPTER XLVIII.

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 257, 21 April 1888, Page 4

CHAPTER XLVIII.

NH!HT l-'AliliS. A rout midday on fchc following Saturday, Mr John IScotb called at these lodgings in Feller Lane, and was admitted by the landlady, who iovbhwith begun her protestations and complaints and entreaties. ' No, I don't want no rent ; 1 want to see him out o' my 'ouso, that's what I want ; I have my other lodgers to consider ; and everyone of us expecting to be burned alive- in our beds- some night. You .said as >ou was going to take him away yesterday, and the clay belore ' ' I'll get him away as soon as 1 can/ the big, good-natured-looking man said, taking her remonstrances quite as a matter of course. 'Do you mean to say he has never stirred out V 'Stirred out? Where do you think he

would gob the drink, gbhen ? And I'd have kep' him out, but I couldn't lock the door against the other loders ; and would he ? give up his latch-key — not he— he's that cunning ; for all he doesn't know no moro what he's doing than the babe unborn. He was crying yesterday ! lor, such a .silly ; said his mother died this time last year — what do 1 know about his mother, or care either '! I don't believo a word of it -it was all a trying on, to get Polly to go out for some more gin. Well, what 1 say is this — I'll stand it no longer, and if you don't get him out o' this 'oubol'll get inap'leeceman as will. We don't want to be burned in our beds— and I don't ask for no rent— l want him out o' this 'ouso afoie he bets it on fire, that's what 1 want and mean to have.' ' Very well, \eiy well,' John Scott said, buavely. ' I'll get him away if lean.' And therewith he proceed ed to climb the narrow and du.sk}' stairs. When he opened the door of the small apartment he found that the blind of the solitary window was down, and the gab burning. Foster lay at full length on the bed, hib clothes on, his face downward on his hands. John Scott went forward, and touched his shoulder, and then shook him .slightly. ' Here, man, wako up ! Haven't you come to your senses yet ?' Another shake, and Foster slowly turned and raised his head, and regarded his visitor with dazed, stupefied eyes, that yet hud some vague look of tenor in them. ' What do you want "'' lie s-aid in a thick \ oicc. ' Sit up and J'll tell you,' Scott said, and lie pulled him up by the shoulders. ' I've been trying those two days to got something hammered into your head, and it ha&n't been much use. I wonder if you'll understand now. Do you know that there's a warrant out against you ?' ' I don't care,' he said, wearily, ' they can take what they like— I've nothing • Bless my soul, can't you understand the diflerence between aw lit and a warrant it's a warrant, f tell you ; and the warrant ofliccr is on the look-out tor you. Don't you know you arc -wanted for that affair at the Amciican Bar? Thebig Yorkshiremaneycd himcuriously ; but there was no kind of intelligence in the vacuous, hopeless, pallid face. All that Foster said — with a -orl of feeble impatience — wa^ : ' What do you want here What time of the night i.-> it V ' Time ot the night ? It's the middle of the day, man ' Heie, I'll pub out the gas--the smell of it is sickening- -and let nome light into the room.' He did as lie said. Foster following his movements with listless observation. 1 What day is it?' he asked when the dull London light streamed into the room. ' I like that the other said. ' Don't know the day of the week ' It's Saturday, then.' 'Saturday?' Foster repeated, vacantly: and \et ho socrned to be thinking too. ' Then yesterday was the nineteenth ?' ' No mistake about that.' ' The nineteenth," lie said, absently : and he was staring right before him, and taking no heed of his visitor. ' That \va« the day I was to start afresh — and I was to go down to Missenden — yesterday, was it? — gone by — gone by.' John Scott came over to him. 'Look here, Freddy, you've got into trouble, though you don't seem to know it : and I mean to do the best I can for you to try Lo pull youisel? togethei. T)o you understand ''" Well, hi 1 * intelligence seemed to grasp this idea. ' Yes, yes, that's all right," with incoherent earnestness. ' That's all right. You"ie a good fellow, Scott. I'm listening. All 1 want is a di op of something to steady 1113 nci\es He ro-e, and with ticmbling gait was making lot the clipboard when the Yorkemail intei posed his capacious- bulk. 'No, \on don't. No\\ that I've caught you in a half auwblo state, vou'\e got to keep so until we decide what has to be done. ' • It s no use, then,' t'o^tet said, hopele^l_\. • I (•■in't listen to }uu 1 teel like ile.it h. I \w-r\\ }ou'd away and leave me to myselt.' Hiswsitoi hes.it.ited I'eihaps what he s.tul wa<- ti ue '. " Well, one nip, he said,' and stood aside. Fostoi weni to the cupboaid. quickly pinned nut halt a tumblcitul ot fome white livid and diank ib oil betoie the othei could intoipOM?. Then he went back Lo tlie bed and sat down. It seemed to concern him little now what his \ isitor had lo sa\ 'Thai wasa-tithsh do^c, but 1 hope it. will pull \ on togethei . \ou'll have to have soui wit- about \ou, unless you want to be laid \>y the heel-.' Scott said. 'So you undoi-tand, now, thatthcic is a warwuit out <ig«un-t \ou, and that you'll ha\e to get dcai awy\ tioni London, like gi eased lighting, oi \oifll he up at Marlboroughstieet >' 'Oh, what arc \ou talking about? Fostet Mid, peevishly, and yet in an absent way ; he did not seem to be paying much attention. ' Upon ni} soul. I don't believe you know an} thing that has occurred during these thiee da}- 1 ' John Scott exclaimed. 'Do }ou mean to say you can't remember what happened on Wednesday night at the American Bai ?' ■At the American Bar ?" he said, indiUereiibly. *At the Palladium. Well, perhaps not But you seemed to understand yesterday whon I was hero. I wonder whether you'll understand now — &utticionfc to make you get up and quit this place. You mean to say you haven't the least recollection of the whole thing — counting into the American Bar with Jim Deane — quarrelling with him about paying ior the drinks -and making such a row that the barman had to inter- ! feie ?' ' Oh, well, 1 daresay 1 had a drop. It's i all right,' he mutteied. ' It isn't, all right' 1 suppose you don't i remember catching up the kniie the barman J had been cutting lemon-peel with — will that j bring you to your sense? ? 1 don't know — at least, 1 don't want to be certain — whether you struck him with the knife, or | whether he stumbled against it in the | fecuftle ; but anyhow we got you hustled out and into a cab, and Jim Deane had sufficient wow.? to give them your Wellingtonstreet address when he said you would answer to the charge. Now do you understand ?— that there's a warrant out against you - and 1 suppose tho charge is cutting and wounding, or whatever the lawyers call it — and nnle&s you quit out of this place at once, they'll be down on you. ' The warning seemed to make little im- I pression •It doesn't matter,' lie said, listlessly ' It's all over with me now. I'm done for —they may hang; me if they like. The I luck's been against me —it's no use trying I < any longer. I thought 1 was going to have one more chance ; and yesterday was the i day - the nineteenth of March it was my i mother died — she was the only one that ' ever cared for me — and when she died it 1 was all up with me — the nineteenth of < March— that was the day I was going to j start afresh— if I had had this one more < chance. Bub the luck's been dead against i me, ' s

' Look here,' said his visitor, roughly, instead of wandering on like that, you'd better wake up and settle where you can hide yourself tor a time. Have you any friends abroad ? Or where was it you retired to in Yorkshire ?' He did not answer. He was vacantly staring ab nothing ■ and the spirit he had drunk seemed to be rendering him more and more maudlin. ' J meant to have gone down to Missenden,' he continued, in his husky voice, witli his head hanging down on his chest. 4 1 meant to have taken an oafch on my mother's graye — if I had got fchis last chance — and T'd have tried to make up to them for all that's past. Well, it's no u«e now. The game's played out. It's all over with me.' ' And what do you propose to do, then ?' Mr Scott asked, with obvious sarcasm. 4 Sit here till the warrant-officer comes ? Then you're up at Marlborough-streeb. Who's going to become your bail do you think '! Perhaps you consider your own recognisances would be enough? I don't imagine the magi&ti ate would, though. I don't think prison-life would suit you, my lad, in this cold weather : and there would be mighty little Scotch whisky going. Come, come, m.in, wake up, and clear out of this neighbourhood, to begin with — whatever jou do next.' He pulled him trom the bed on to his leg* ; and Foster obediently began to smooth his ru filed clothes and get ready for departure. 4 What am I going to do next ?' he said, in the midst of these haphazard preparations, ' What do you think I should do ? What is there left me to do ? Well, I am not going to tell you. But there's a way of making it up to them. I wish I had done it before, j when my mother died ; but I thought I had one more chance. Yes, you see my wife was frightened that time I went down. I bain ' You'ie a strong woman, but you're not stronn enough for — this.' j 'What are you blathering about now?' the blunt Yorkshireman &aid. ' Come, let's nettle wheie you will to go, to begin with, when you leave this house. Wandering about London streets isn't the safest thing foi you at present.' ' What o'clock is it ?' he asked. ' -lust after two.' 'Then 1 know where 1 am going,' he said, with a kind of maudlin determination. ' You come up to Holborn with me, and you'll sec' 4 Oh, you know, do you ? Well, that's a comfoifc, at any late. ' Just a-r> they were about to leave, Foster turned and went to the cupboard. His companion caught him by the arm. ' No, not one drop !' 4 Oh, let me alone !' Foster said peevishly, and he tried to shake oil the hold. ' It's medicine 1 want.' ' Let me see, then.' He opened the cupboard, and took out a small phial, which ho instantly put in his pocket. 1 What are you taking medicine for ?' ' When I can't get sleep.' ' What Sleeplessness ? Is that what ails you? You've been asleep for three day-. !' 'It cures other things,' Foster said, gloomily. ' Cures everything, for the matter of that. ' 4 That's something like a medicine now.' Scott said, encomagingly. 'Can it cure impecuniosiry ?— for tnafs what most of us tive -.ufFering from since Joe Cantly roped Master of Roy— the infernal whelp \ Well, they'll stop his playing that little trick again, or I'm mistaken.' They were getting- down the dark stair" case by this time. When they got outside, Foster shivered with the cold, and his shaking leg=; could scarcely carry him along. He seemed rather terrified, too, at the number of face^ regarding him ; he kept his eyes tixed on the pavement ; and answered his companion in monosyllables. As they were walking along Holborn, Foster suddenly stopped in front of an archway, and held out hi 3 hand to his companion. ' Hood-bye, ' he said, with averted eyes. 4 What do yon mean ?' Scott asked. 1 I am going down into the country,' he aiiiucied : hut his maudlin resolve had now diopped into a kind of listle^sne.^s. 'Going into a public-house, you mean.' ' There i-. an omnibus starts from here at three,' he said, without taking any otfence. John Scott glanced through the archway, nnd ■saw that in the middle of the court\urd of the old-fashioned inn there was undoubtedly an omnibus standing, though us yet the horses '^eie not put to it. 4 Oh, f see. The one chat goes down into Buckinghamshire? So you are going; to your own people down there? Well, now. that's very sensible -the very be.\,t thing you can do. You be quiet there for a, time ; ynd pick yourselt up again ; then you'll be able to look mund nnd see what should come next. The very best thing >ou can do. Good-bye, old chap ; and Jim Deane and I will see whether we can't square that blessed barman.' So they shook hands ; and John Scott went on hi? way ; and Foster, with a strangely apprehensive look— as if he feared to meet some familiar face — passed through the court-yard, and entered the tap-room, wheie he sat down in a dusky corner to wait until the omnibus was ready to start. In due course of time, the handful of passengers- — mostly elderly country-folk burdened with innumerable baskets and parcels and packages — who were going by the omnibus were summoned to take their places : and Foster rose and went out too. The first person he saw was the driver— an old and familiar acquaintance of his, from boyhood upward. The stout, rubicund, wholesome-looking man seemed much surprised and coneorned. 4 Lor a mussy, Mr Fred, how poorly you do look, to bo sure. Be you going with us ? —ay ? — ay ?-- and the box-seat at your will . and pleasure ; but you'll take a drop o' something before ye start, just to keep the cold i out, won't ye?' ' I'm going inside,' Foster said, shiver' ing a little ; and he got into the vehicle' and went up to the furthermost corner* where he huddled himselt together. If any of the other passengers knew who he was, they did not speak ; he did not even glance at them. And presently, no doubt, tW thought that the sickly-looking younr-- man in the corner was asleep ; for app-arently-lus eyes were closed. The old omnibus jogged placidly along, away out by Acton and Ealing and Harwell, stopping, now and again, to deliver its parcels at the wayside houses. At. Ux bridge, there was a longer halt ; and here Foster got out and went into the tavern, and drank some hot gin and water. He did not, according to usual custom, ask the driver to join him ; he went back to his corner, and to his stupefied meditations. The wintry afternoon was darkening now. They went on by Chalfont St. Peter's amd: Chalfont St. Giles's. The lamp inside tieomnibus had been lighted by this time, and the dull orange glow fell on the sallow and sickly features of the solitary traveller who seemed to huddle himself away from' his fellow- passongers. At Amersttam. however he again got out, and had some more gin ; the landlady, to whom he was known, expressed the greatest concern over his altered appearance. Indeed, he seemed, scarcely to understand, whab he was doing

and there was a furtive look about his eyes —dared as they were— as* if he thought he was being watched. At length, about nine o'clock at night, ho avrived at his destination. But he did not 2:0 on to his father's house : he alighted at the inn at which the omnibus stopped, and went int-idc, and asked the people, who knew him very well, tor a bedroom tor the night. "' Why, Mr Fostc. . bairn you going on home ?' the landlord said, in gi eat a*tonw,iment. , . ' No, I'm not ," Me <aid. luu-kih . 1 don t want to disturb you. 1 don t want them to know I'm in Missenden do >ou undeistand 0 I'm joiner out (or 11 while Have the bed ready by the time I get, back. 'And about supper, sir*' said the landlady. , .L. L , 1 1 don't want am. I h:i\en t been \eiy well It* "loop 1 want/ And therewith he went out into the dmk of the night. But the landlord, who had known the Foster famih for \e;u- and veai-. was «orel> disquieted: he did not like tho look of the young man'- appeal anee nor his-vtrano-e'mannei : and aftci a hmried consultation a\ ith hi- uiteheput on hi- hat and went quickh into the darkness. He could see the wa> that Foslei had taken ; and he followed, keeping a oeitam distance between him and the black tigure ahead. He went down the mam thoiouuhfare of the \i\lage : then got away from the house?, and then began to ascend the little hill on which the church 1? built. Here away from the yellow liglu of the windows, one could see bettor -. the -tars overhead were clear : then «>ha crescent moon, too, down in the south : the friendly catcher had no difficulty in following the movement* of the young man who had awakened hi« suspicions it not his alarm Then he almost took shame on himself when he -aw what happened Foster, feebh and - owh -foi he seemed Aeiy weak-went up the -tcp* ot the churchyard, clinging to the h.indi.iil : he opened the little sate ; he went ioiw.ud —still more slow h . foi thcie were one or two lame yew-tree- here that made the place dark— and knelt dou nby a crave, it was hU mother's gra\e. And then, the next moment he had tlung himself at ml! length on the s-lab of .-tone, with sob* and moan* and inarticulate crie-. his face bmied in his hands. The man who w ltnesscd thi*. terrible outburst of remote and anguish withdrew hurriedly and stealthily W hen he went back to hi- wife he would say no word. He put a«ide he<- question? ; but she couid see that .something unu-inl had happened to him. , Fred Foster came back to the inn, lookmsr more ghastly than ever; hi? e\e- weie sunken, and *\et turtnely apprehensne : luface was of an ashen gre>. He said he would <ro to hi? mom at once : he a-ked for two or three candles in case he should be sleepless: and then he vent upstanp and locked himself in. . 'Good -night,' he said to the girl who took the candles up to him. It was ii U s last farewell to the world. In the morning both the landloid and his wife were anxious to be ielie\ed of the responsibility of having in their house anyone who looked s-o terribly ill, especially as his own home was but a shoit way oil : and the former had himself some idea of going aloncr and informing old Mr Foster and hi-daughter-in-law. And then the\ thought they would wait and «cc what the young man had to «ay. They waited m \,»n. They knocked at bis dooi ; theie wa-no answei. They knocked again, and yet ao-ain : the silence that followed wa- dreadful • then, taking courage. the\ drove in the door. Thei e was a dai k hgm e 1> ing on the bed, a cmiou- <.doui in the <iit, and an empty phial on the dre— mtr-talile at the. window. This. then, wa- the end And yet a chaiitable view wa-* taken ot the circumstance* in which the body of the hapless mortal was found. It was shown that he had been dreadfully ill : that he suffered from -leeple-nes- ; that the object of his coming to Mis-enden was to M?it hirnothei"- grave on the <innivei-avy ot her death— oi-r^t lea-t, on the day after that : and it wa' =ugaes>ted as probable that the emotion and excitement of «uch a %isit had rendered him wakeful dm ing the night, and that he had taken an oveulo'e ot the narcotic he had been u-ing for «omc time before So the \erdict of the coi oners lury was simply ' Death b\ misadventure ; and there was no reason why anyone should depute it : the worthless life had been snuffed out : thereafter— silence

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