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 CLOVER- CHINA.!
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 S ANGELES
 
 
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 SOUTH Ef^N brtANCH 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFOfy^l^ 
 
 LiaRARY.
 
 THE TOWN TRAVELLER
 
 THE 
 
 TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE GISSING 
 
 Author of "The Whirlpool," "In the Year of Jubilee," 
 " The Unclassed," Etc. 
 
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 NEW YORK 
 
 FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
 
 G
 
 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 MR GAMMON BREAKFASTS IN BED. 
 
 Moggie, the general, knocked at Mr. Gammon's 
 door, and was answered by a sleepy " Hello ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Bubb wants to know if you know what 
 time it is, sir, 'cos it's half-past eight an' more." 
 
 " All right," sounded cheerfully from within. 
 " Any letters for me ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir — a 'eap." 
 
 " Bring 'em up, and put 'em under the door. And 
 tell Mrs, Bubb I'll have breakfast in bed ; you can 
 put it down outside and shout. And I say, Moggie, 
 ask somebody to run across and get me a Police 
 News — and Clippings — and The Kennel — under- 
 stand ? Two eggs. Moggie, and three rashers 
 toasted crisp — understand?" 
 
 As the girl turned to descend, a voice called to 
 her from another room on the same floor, a voice 
 very distinctly feminine, rather shrill, and a trifle 
 imperative.
 
 2 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 " Moggie ! I want my hot water — sharp." 
 
 " It ain't nine yet, miss," answered Moggie, in a 
 tone of remonstrance. 
 
 " I know that — none of your cheek ! If you come 
 up here hollering at people's doors, how can any one 
 sleep ? Bring the hot water at once, and mind it is 
 hot." 
 
 " You'll have to wait till it gits 'ot, miss." 
 
 " Shall I ? If it wasn't too much trouble, I'd 
 come out and smack your face for you — dirty little 
 wretch ! " 
 
 The servant — she was about sixteen, and no 
 dirtier than became her position — scampered down 
 the stairs, burst into the cellar kitchen, and in a 
 high tearful wail complained to her mistress of the 
 indignity she had suffered. There was no living in 
 the house with that Miss Sparkes, who treated 
 everybody like dirt under her feet. Smack her face, 
 would she ? What next? And all because she said 
 the water would have to be 'otted. And Mr. Gam- 
 mon wanted his breakfast in bed, and — and — why, 
 there now, it had all been drove out of her mind by 
 that Miss Sparkes. 
 
 Mrs. Bubb, the landlady, was frying some sausages 
 for her first-floor lodgers ; as usual at this hour, she 
 wore (presumably over some invisible clothing) a 
 large shawl and a petticoat, her thin hair, black 
 streaked with grey, knotted and pinned into a ball 
 on the top of her head. Here and there about the 
 kitchen ran four children, who were snatching a sort
 
 MR. GAMMON BREAKFASTS IN BED 3 
 
 of picnic breakfast whilst they made ready for 
 school ; they looked healthy enough, and gabbled, 
 laughed, sang, without heed to the elder folk. Their 
 mother, healthy too, and with no ill-natured face — a 
 slow, dull, sluggishly-mirthful woman of a common 
 London type — heard Moggie out, and shook up the 
 sausage before replying, 
 
 " Never you mind Miss Sparkes. I'll give her a 
 talkin'-to when she comes down. What was it 
 as Mr. Gammon wanted ? Breakfast in bed ? And 
 what else ? — I never did see such a girl for forget- 
 ting." 
 
 " Well, didn't I tell you as my 'ead had never 
 closed at the top ! " urged Moggie, in plaintive key. 
 " How can I 'elp myself ? " 
 
 " Here take them letters up to him, and ask again ; 
 and if Miss Sparkes says anything, don't give her 
 no answer — see ? Billy, fill the big kettle and put 
 it on before you go. Sally, you ain't a-goin' to school 
 without brushin' your 'air ? Do see after your 
 sister, Janey, an* don't let her look sich a slap- 
 cabbage. — Beetrice, stop that 'ollerin' ; it fair mis- 
 merises me ! " 
 
 Having silently thrust five letters under Mr. 
 Ganmon's door. Moggie gave a very soft tap, and 
 half whispered a request that the lodger would re- 
 peat his orders. Mr. Gammon did so, with perfect 
 good-humour. As soon as his voice had ceased, 
 that of Miss Sparkes sounded from the neighbour- 
 ing bed-room.
 
 4 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 "Isthat the water?" 
 
 For the pleasure of the thhig, Moggie stood t6 
 listen, an angry grin on her flushed face. 
 
 " Moggie ! — I'll give that little beast what for! — 
 Are you there ? " 
 
 The girl made a quick motion with both her hands, 
 as if clawing an enemy's face, then coughed loudly 
 and went away with a sound of stamping on the 
 thinly carpeted stairs. One minute later, Miss 
 Sparkes' door opened, and Miss Sparkes herself 
 rushed forth, a startling vision of wild auburn hair 
 about a warm complexion, and a small brisk figure 
 girded in a flowery dressing-gown. She called at 
 the full pitch of her voice for Mrs Bubb. 
 
 " Do you hear me ? — Mrs Bubb ! — Have the kind- 
 ness to send me up my hot water immediately ! 
 This moment, if you please ! " 
 
 There came an answer, but not from the landlady. 
 It sounded so near to Miss Sparkes that she sprang 
 back into her room. 
 
 " Patience, Polly ! All in good time, my dear. 
 Wrong foot out of bed this morning ? " 
 
 Her door slammed, and there followed a lazy 
 laugh from Mr Gammon's chamber. 
 
 In due time, the can of hot water was brought 
 up, and soon after it came a tray for Mr Gammon, 
 on which, together with his breakfast, lay the three 
 newspapers he had bespoken. Polly Sparkes, 
 throughout her leisurely toilet, was moved to irrita- 
 tion and curiosity by the sound of frequent laughter
 
 MR. GAMMON BREAKFASTS IN BED 5 
 
 on the other side of the party-wall ; uproarious 
 peals, long chucklings in a falsetto key, staccato 
 bursts of mirth. 
 
 " That's the comic stuff in Clippings" she said to 
 herself, with an involuntary grin. " What a fool he 
 is! — And why's he staying in bed this morning? 
 Got his holiday, I suppose. I'd make better use of 
 it than that." 
 
 She came forth presently in such light and easy 
 costume as befitted a young lady of much leisure 
 on a hot morning of June. Meaning to pass an 
 hour or two in quarrelling with Mrs. Bubb, she had 
 arrayed herself thus early with more care than 
 usual, that her colours and perfumes might throw 
 contempt upon the draggle-tailed landlady, whom, 
 by the by, she had known since her childhood. 
 On the landing, where she paused for a moment, 
 she hummed an air ; with the foreseen result that 
 Mr. Gammon called out to her. 
 
 "Polly!" 
 
 She vouchsafed no answer. 
 
 " Miss Sparkes ! " 
 
 '* Well ? " 
 
 ** Will you come with me to see my bow-wows 
 this fine day?" 
 
 " No, Mr Gammon, I certainly will not ! 
 
 " Thank you, Polly. I felt a bit afraid you might 
 say yes." 
 
 The tone was not offensive, whatever the words 
 might be, and the laugh that came after would have
 
 6 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 softened any repartee, with its undernote of good 
 humour and harmless gaiety. Biting her lips to 
 preserve the dignity of silence, Polly passed down- 
 stairs. Sunshine through a landing window il- 
 lumined the dust floating thickly about the stair- 
 case, and heated the familiar blend of lodging-house 
 smells — the closeness of small rooms that are never 
 cleaned, the dry rot of wall-paper, plaster and old 
 wood, the fustiness of clogged carpets trodden thin, 
 the ever-rising vapours from a sluttish kitchen. 
 As Moggie happened to be wiping down the front 
 steps, the door stood open, affording a glimpse of 
 trams and omnibuses, cabs and carts, with pedes- 
 trians bobbing past in endless variety — the life of 
 Kennington Road, all dust and sweat under a glar- 
 ing summer sun. To Miss Sparkes a cheery and in- 
 viting spectacle ; for the whole day was before her, 
 to lounge or ramble until the hour which summoned 
 her to the agreeable business of selling programmes 
 at a fashionable theatre. The employment was 
 precarious : even with luck in the way of tips it 
 meant nothing very brilliant ; but something had 
 happened lately which made Polly indifferent to 
 this view of the matter. She had a secret, and en- 
 joyed it all the more because it enabled her to 
 excite not envy alone, but dark suspicions, in the 
 people who observed her. 
 
 Mrs. Bubb, for instance — whoso far presumed up- 
 on old acquaintance as to ask blunt questions, and 
 offer homely advice — plainly thought she was going
 
 MR. GAMMON BREAKFASTS IN BED ^ 
 
 astray. It amused her to encourage this miscon- 
 ception, and to take offence on every opportunity. 
 As she went down into the kitchen, she fingered a 
 gold watch-chain that hung from her blouse to a little 
 pocket at her waist. Mrs. Bubb would spy it at once 
 and in course of the quarrel about this morning's 
 hot water would be sure to allude to it. 
 
 It turned out one of the finest frays Polly had ever 
 enjoyed, and was still rich in possibilities, when, at 
 something past eleven, the kitchen door suddenly 
 opened, and there entered Mr. Gammon,
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 A MISSING UNCLE 
 
 He glanced at Mrs. Bubb, at the disorderly rem- 
 nants of breakfast on the long deal table, then 
 at Polly, whose face was crimson with the joy of 
 combat. 
 
 " Don't let me interrupt you, ladies. Blaze away ! 
 —if I may so express myself. It does a man good 
 to see such energy on a warm morning." 
 
 *' I've said all I'm a-goin'to say," exclaimed Mrs. 
 Bubb, as she mopped her forehead with a greasy 
 apron. " I've warned her, that's all, and I mean 
 her well, little as she deserves it. — Now, you, Moggie, 
 don't stand gahpin' there ; git them breakfast things 
 washed up, can't you ! It'll be tea-time again before 
 the beds is made — And what's come to you this 
 morning? " 
 
 She addressed Mr. Gammon, who had seated him- 
 self on a corner of the table, as if to watch and hsten. 
 He was a short, thickset man, with dark wiry hair 
 roughened into innumerable curls and similar 
 whiskers ending in a clean razor-line half-way down 
 
 the cheek. His eyes were blue, and had a wonder- 
 
 8
 
 A MISSING UNCLE 9 
 
 ing innocence which seemed partly the result of 
 facetious affectation, as also was the peculiar curve 
 of his lips, ever ready for joke or laughter. Yet the 
 broad, mobile countenance had lines of shrewdness 
 and of strength, plain enough whenever it relapsed 
 into gravity, and the rude shaping of jaw and chin 
 might have warned any one disposed to take advan- 
 tage of the man's good-nature. He wore a suit of 
 coarse tweed, a brown bowler hat, a blue cotton 
 shirt with white stock and horseshoe pin, rough 
 brown leggings, tan boots ; and in his hand was a 
 dog-whip. This costume signified that Mr. Gammon 
 felt at leisure, contrasting as strongly as possible 
 with the garb in which he was wont to go about his 
 ordinary business, that of commercial traveller. He 
 had a liking for dogs, and kept a number of them 
 in the back premises of an inn at Dulwich, whither 
 he usually repaired on Sundays. When at Dulwich, 
 Mr. Gammon fancied himself in completely rural 
 seclusion ; it seemed to him that he had shaken off 
 the dust of cities, that he was far from the clamour 
 of the crowd, amid peace and simplicity, hence his 
 rustic attire, in which he was fond of being photo- 
 graphed, with dogs about him. A true-born child 
 of town, he would have found the real country quite 
 unendurable ; in his doggy rambles about Dulwich 
 he always preferred a northerly direction, and was 
 never so happy as when sitting in the inn-parlour 
 amid a group of friends whose voices rang the purest 
 cockney. Even in his business he disliked engage-
 
 10 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 ments which took him far from London ; his " spe- 
 ciality" (as he would have said) was town travel, and 
 few men had had more varied experience in that 
 region of enterprise. 
 
 " I'm going to have a look at the bow-wows," he 
 replied to Mrs. Bubb, " Polly won't come with me. 
 Unkind of her, ain't it ? " 
 
 " Mr. Gammon," remarked the young lady with a 
 severe glance, " I'll thank you not to be so familiar 
 with my name. If you don't know any better, let 
 me tell you it's very ungentlemanly." 
 
 He rose, doffed his hat, bowed profoundly, and 
 begged her pardon ; in acknowledgment of which 
 Polly gave a toss of the head. Miss Sparkes was 
 neither beautiful nor stately, but her appearance had 
 the sort of distinction which corresponds to these 
 qualities in the society of Kennington Road ; she 
 filled an appreciable space in the eyes of Mr. Gam- 
 mon ; her abundance of auburn hair, her high colour, 
 her full lips and excellent teeth, her firmly developed 
 bust, and the freedom of her poses, (which always 
 appeared to challenge admiration and anticipate im- 
 pertinence) had their effectiveness against a kitchen 
 background, and did not entirely lose it when 
 she flitted about the stalls at the theatre, selling 
 programmes. She was but two and twenty ; Mr. 
 Gammon had passed his fortieth year. In general, 
 his tone of intimacy passed without rebuke ; at 
 moments it had seemed not unacceptable ; but 
 Polly's temper was notoriously uncertain, and her
 
 A MISSING UNCLE II 
 
 frankness never left people in doubt as to the pre- 
 vailing mood, 
 
 " Would you like a little bull-pup, Miss Sparkes ? " 
 he pursued, in a conciliatory tone. "A lovely little 
 button-ear ? There's a new litter ; say the word and 
 I'll bring you one." 
 
 " Thank you. I don't care for dogs." 
 
 " No? But I'm sure you would if you kept one. 
 Now, I have a cobby little fox-terrier; just the dog 
 for a lady. No ? Or a sweet little black-and-tan, 
 just turning fifteen pounds, with a lovely neck, and 
 kissing spots on both cheeks. I wouldn't offer her 
 to everybody." 
 
 " Very good of you," replied Miss Sparkes, con- 
 temptuously. 
 
 " Why ain't you goin' to business ? " asked the 
 landlady. 
 
 " I'll tell you. We had a little difference of opinion 
 yesterday. The governors have been disappointed 
 about a new line in the fancy leather. It wouldn't 
 go, and I told them the reason ; but that wasn't 
 good enough ; they hinted that it was my fault. Of 
 course I said nothing ; I never do in such cases ; 
 but — this morning I had breakfast in bed." 
 
 He spoke with eyes half-closed and an odd 
 vibration of the upper lips ; then broke into a laugh. 
 
 " You're an independent party, you are," said 
 Mrs. Bubb, eyeing him with admiration. 
 
 " It was always more than I could do to stand a 
 hint of that kind. Not so long ago I used to lose
 
 12 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 my temper ; but I've taken pattern by Polly — T 
 mean Miss Sparkes — and now I do it quietly. That 
 reminds me." His look changed to seriousness. 
 " Do you know any one of the name of Quodling ? " 
 
 Polly, to whom he spoke, answered with a dry 
 negative. 
 
 "Sure? Try and think if you ever heard your 
 uncle speak of the name." 
 
 The girl's eyes fell, as if, for some reason, she felt 
 a momentary embarrassment. It passed, but in re- 
 plying she looked away from Mr. Gammon. 
 
 "Quodling? Never heard it — why?" 
 
 " Why, there is a man called Quodling who might 
 be your uncle's twin brother, he looks so like him. 
 I caught sight of him in the city, and tracked him 
 till I got to know his place of business and his name. 
 For a minute or two I thought I'd found your 
 uncle, I really did. Gosh ! I said to myself — there's 
 Clover at last ! I wonder I didn't pin him, like a 
 bull terrier. But, as you know, I'm cautious — that's 
 how I've made my fortune, Polly." 
 
 Miss Sparkes neither observed the joke, nor re- 
 sented the name ; she was listening with a preoc- 
 cupied air. 
 
 " You'll never find //m," said Mrs. Bubb, shaking 
 her head. 
 
 " Don't be so sure of that. I sha'n't lose sight of 
 this man Quodling. It's the strangest likeness I 
 ever saw, and I sha'n't be satisfied till I've got to 
 know if he has any connection with the name of
 
 A MISSING UNCLE 13 
 
 Clover. It ain't easy to get at, but I'll manage it 
 somehow. Now, if I had Polly to help me — I mean 
 Miss Sparkes." 
 
 With a muttering of impatience, the girl rose ; in 
 the same moment she drew from her belt a gold 
 watch and deliberately consulted it. Observing 
 this, Mrs. Bubb looked towards Mr. Gammon, who, 
 also observant, returned the glance. 
 - " I sha'n't want dinner," Polly remarked, in an off- 
 hand way, as she moved towards the door. 
 
 "Going to see Mrs. Clover?" Gammon in- 
 quired. 
 
 " I'm sick of going there. It's always the same 
 talk." 
 
 " Wait till your 'usband runs away from you, and 
 stays away for five years," said Mrs. Bubb with a 
 renewal of anger, " and then see what yoji find to 
 talk about." 
 
 Polly laughed and went away humming. 
 
 " If it wasn't that I feel afraid for her," continued 
 Mrs. Bubb in a lower voice, " I'd give that young 
 woman notice to quit. Her cheek's getting past 
 everything — Did you see her gold watch and chain ? " 
 
 " Yes, I did ; where does it come from ? " 
 
 " That's more than / can tell you, Mr. Gammon. 
 I don't want to think ill of the girl, but there's jolly 
 queer goin's-on. And she's so brazen about it ! I 
 don't know what to think." 
 
 Gammon knitted his brows and gazed round the 
 kitchen.
 
 14 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 " I think Polly's straight," he observed at length. 
 " I don't seem to notice anything wrong with her, 
 except her cheek and temper. She'll have to be 
 taken down a peg one of these days, but I don't 
 envy the man that'll have the job. It won't be me, 
 for certain," he added with a laugh. 
 
 Moggie came into the room, bringing a telegram. 
 
 "For me?" said Gammon. "Just what I ex- 
 pected." Reading, he broadened his visage into a 
 grin of infinite satisfaction. " ' Please explain ab- 
 sence. Hope nothing wrong.' How kind of them, 
 ain't it ! Yesterday they chucked me ; now they're 
 polite. Reply paid, too, very considerate. They 
 shall have their reply." 
 
 He laid the blank form on the table and wrote 
 upon it, in pencil ; every letter beautifully shaped 
 in a first-rate commercial hand. 
 
 " Go to Bath and get your heads shaved." 
 
 " You ain't a-goin* to send that ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Bubb, when he had held the message to her for 
 perusal. 
 
 " It'll do them good. They're like Polly — want 
 taking down a peg." 
 
 Moggie ran off with the paper to the waiting boy, 
 and Mr. Gammon laughed for five minutes uproar- 
 iously. 
 
 " Would you like a little bull-pup, Mrs. Bubb ? " he 
 asked at length. 
 
 " Not me, Mr. Gammon. I've enough pups of 
 my own, thank you all the same."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE CHINA-SHOP 
 
 Mr. Gammon took his way down Kennington 
 Road, walking at a leisurely pace, smiting his leg 
 with the doubled dog-whip, and looking about him 
 with his usual wide-awake, contented air. He had 
 in perfection the art of living for the moment ; no 
 art in his case, but a natural characteristic, for 
 which it never occurred to him to be grateful. In- 
 deed, it is a common characteristic in the world to 
 which Mr. Gammon belonged. He and his like take 
 what the heavens send them, grumbling or rejoicing, 
 but never reflecting upon their place in the sum of 
 things. To Mr Gammon, life was a wonderfully 
 simple matter. He had his worries and his desires, 
 but, so long as he suffered neither from headache 
 nor stomach-ache, these things interfered not at all 
 with his enjoyment of a fine morning. 
 
 He was in no hurry to make for Dulwich ; as he 
 walked along, his thoughts began to return in a dif- 
 ferent direction, and, on reaching the end of Upper 
 Kennington Lane, he settled the matter by striking 
 ^ towards Vauxhall Station. A short railway journey.
 
 l6 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 and another pleasant saunter, brought him to a 
 street off Battersea Park Road, and to a china-shop, 
 over which stood the name of Clover. 
 
 In the window hung a card, with an inscription 
 in bold letters — "Glass, china, and every kind of 
 fashionable ornament for the table, for hire on 
 moderate terms." Mr. Gammon read this with an 
 appreciative smile, which, accompanied by a nod, 
 became a greeting to Mrs. Clover, who was aware 
 of him from within the shop. He entered. 
 
 " How does it go? " 
 
 " Two teas and a supper yesterday. A wedding- 
 breakfast this morning." 
 
 " Bravo ! What did I tell you ? You'll want a 
 bigger place before the end of the year." 
 
 The shop was well stocked, the window well laid 
 out ; everything indicated a flourishing, though as 
 yet a small business. Mrs. Clover, a neat, comely 
 and active woman, with a complexion as clear as 
 that of her own best china, chatted vivaciously with 
 the visitor, whilst she superintended the unpacking 
 of a couple of crates by a muscular youth and a 
 young lady (to use the technical term), her shop 
 assistant. 
 
 "Why are you off, to-day?" she inquired pres- 
 ently, after moving to the doorway for more private 
 talk. 
 
 Mr. Gammon made his explanation, with spirit 
 and humour. 
 
 '* You're a queer man, if ever there was one,"
 
 THE CHINA-SHOP l7 
 
 Mts. Clover remarked, after watching him for a 
 moment and averting her eyes as soon as they were 
 met by his. "You know your own business best, 
 but I should have thought — " 
 
 It was a habit of hers to imply a weighty opinion 
 by suddenly breaking off ; a form of speech known 
 to the grammarians by a word which would have 
 astonished Mrs. Clover, Few women of her class 
 'are prone to this kind of emphasis. Her friendly 
 manner had a quietness, a reserve in its cordiality, 
 which suited well with the frank, pleasant features of 
 a matron not yet past her prime. 
 
 " It's all right," he replied, more submissively 
 than he was wont to speak. " I shall do betternext 
 time. I'm looking out for a permanency." 
 
 " So you have been for ten years, to my knowl- 
 edge." 
 
 They laughed together. At this point came an 
 interruption in the shape of a customer who drove 
 up in a hansom ; a loudly dressed woman, who, on 
 entering the shop, conversed with Mrs. Clover in 
 the lowest possible voice, and presently returned to 
 her vehicle, with uneasy glances left and right. Mr. 
 Gammon, who had walked for some twenty yards, 
 sauntered back to the shop, and his friend met him 
 on the threshold. 
 
 " That's the sort," she whispered with a merry 
 eye. " Six-roomed 'ouse near Queen's Road Station. 
 Wants things for an at 'ome — tea spoons as 
 well — Couldn't I make it ninepence the two 
 
 2
 
 l8 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 dozen ! That's the kind of place where there'll 
 be breakages. But they pay well, the breakages 
 do." 
 
 "Well, I won't keep you now," said Gammon. 
 " I'm going to have a peep at the bow-wows. Could 
 I look in after closing? " 
 
 Mrs. Clover turned her head away, pretending to 
 observe the muscular youth within. 
 
 " Fact is," he pursued, " I want to speak to you 
 about Polly." 
 
 "What about her?" 
 
 " Nothing much. I'll tell you this evening." 
 
 Without more words, he nodded and went off. 
 Mrs. Clover stood for a moment with an absent ex- 
 pression on her comely face, then turned into the 
 shop and gave the young man in shirt-sleeves a bit 
 of her mind about the time he was taking over his 
 work. 
 
 She was anything but a bad-tempered woman. 
 Her rating had no malice in it, and only signified 
 that she could not endure laziness. 
 
 " Hot, is it ? Of course it's hot. What do you 
 expect in July? You don't mind the 'eat when 
 you're playing at cricket, I know." 
 
 " No, mum," replied the young giant with a grin. 
 
 " How many runs did you make last Saturday? " 
 
 " Fifty-three, mum, and caught-out." 
 
 " Then don't go talking to me about the heat. 
 Finish that job and run off with this filter to Mrs. 
 Cubbins's."
 
 THE CHINA-SHOP I9 
 
 Her life had not lacked variety. Married at eight- 
 teen, after a month's courtship, to a man of whom 
 she knew next to nothing, she lived for a time in 
 Liverpool, where her husband — older by ten years — • 
 pursued various callings in the neighbourhood of the 
 docks. After the birth of her only child, a daughter, 
 they migrated to Glasgow and struggled with great 
 poverty for several years. This period was closed 
 tjy the sudden disappearance of Mr. Clover. He 
 did not actually desert his wife and child ; at reg- 
 ular intervals letters and money arrived from him, 
 addressed to the care of Mrs. Clover's parents, who 
 kept a china-shop at Islington ; beyond the post- 
 marks, which indicated constant travel in England 
 and abroad, these letters, (always very affectionate) 
 gave no information as to the writer's circumstances. 
 When Mrs. Clover had lived with her parents for 
 about three years she was summoned by her hus- 
 band to Dulwich, where the man had somehow es- 
 tablished himself as a cab proprietor; he explained 
 his wanderings as the result of mere restlessness, 
 and with this cold comfort Mrs. Clover had to be 
 content. By degrees they settled into a not un- 
 happy life ; the girl, Minnie, was growing up ; the 
 business might have been worse ; everything seemed 
 to promise unbroken domestic tranquillity ; when, 
 one fine day, Mr. Clover was again missing. Again 
 he sent letters and money, the former written in a 
 strangely mingled mood of grief and hopefulness, 
 the remittance varying from half-a sovereign to a
 
 20 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 ten-pound note. This time, the letters were invari- 
 ably posted in London, but in different districts. 
 Clover declared that he was miserable away from 
 home, and, without offering any reason for his be- 
 havior, promised that he would soon return. 
 
 Six years had since elapsed. To afTord herself 
 occupation, Mrs. Clover went into the glass and 
 china business, assisted by her parents' experience, 
 and by the lively interest of her friend Mr. Gammon. 
 Minnie Clover, a pretty and interesting girl, was now 
 employed at Dolton's Potteries. All would have 
 been well, but for the harassing mystery that dis- 
 turbed their lives. Clover's letters were still posted 
 in London ; money still came from him, sometimes 
 in remittances of as much as twenty pounds. But 
 handwriting and composition often suggested that 
 the writer was either ill or intoxicated. The latter 
 seemed not unlikely, for Clover had always inclined 
 to the bottle. His wife no longer distressed herself. 
 The first escapade she had forgiven ; the second es- 
 tranged her. She had resolved, indeed, that if her 
 husband did again present himself, his home should 
 not be under her roof. 
 
 The shop closed at eight. At a quarter-past, the 
 house-bell rang and a small servant admitted Mr. 
 Gammon, who came along the passage and into the 
 back parlour where Mrs. Clover was wont to sit. As 
 usual at this hour, her daughter was present. Minnie 
 sat reading ; she rose for a moment to greet the 
 visitor, spoke a word or two very modestly, even
 
 THE CHINA-SHOP 21 
 
 shyly, and let her eyes fall again upon the book. 
 Considering the warmth of the day, it was not un- 
 natural that Mr. Gammon showed a very red face, 
 shining with moisture ; but his decided hilarity, 
 his tendency to hum tunes and beat time with his 
 feet, his noisy laughter and expansive talk could 
 hardly be attributed to the same cause. Having 
 taken a seat near Minnie, he kept his look steadily 
 fixed upon her, and evidently discoursed with a 
 view of affording her amusement. Not altogether 
 successfully, it appeared, for the young girl — she was 
 but seventeen — grew more and more timid, less and 
 less able to murmur replies. She was prettier than 
 her mother had ever been, and spoke with a better 
 accent. Her features suggested a more delicate 
 physical inheritance than Mrs. Clover's comeliness 
 could account for. As a matter of fact she had 
 her father's best traits, though Mrs. Clover fre- 
 quently thanked goodness that in character she by 
 no means resembled him. 
 
 Mr. Gammon was in the midst of a vivid descrip- 
 tion of a rat hunt, in which a young terrier had dis- 
 played astonishing mettle, when his hostess abruptly 
 interposed : 
 
 " Minnie, I wish you'd put your hat on and run 
 round to Mrs. Walker's for me. I'll give you a 
 message when you're ready." 
 
 Very willingly the girl rose and left the room. 
 Mr. Gammon, whose countenance had fallen, turned 
 to the mother with jocose remonstrance.
 
 22 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 " Now I call that too bad ! What did you want 
 to go sending her away for? " 
 
 " What does it matter?" was Mrs. Clover's reply, 
 uttered good-humouredly, but with some impa- 
 tience. " The child doesn't want to hear about 
 rats and terriers." 
 
 "Child? /don't call her a child. Besides you'd 
 only to give me a hint to talk of something else," 
 He leaned forward, and softened his voice to a note 
 of earnest entreaty. " She won't be long, will 
 she?" 
 
 " Oh, I daresay not." 
 
 A light tap at the door called Mrs. Clover away. 
 She whispered outside with Minnie and returned 
 smiling. 
 
 " Have you told her to be quick ? " 
 
 Mrs. Clover did not answer the question. Sitting 
 with her arms on the round table, she looked Mr. 
 Gammon steadily in the face, and said with decision: 
 
 " Never you come here again after you've been to 
 Dulwich ! " 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " Never mind. I don't want to have to speak 
 plainer. If ever I have to — " 
 
 Mrs. Clover made her great effect of the pregnant 
 pause. The listener, who had sobered wonder- 
 fully : sat gazing at her, his blue eyes comically 
 rueful. 
 
 " She isn't coming back at all," fell from his lips. 
 
 *' Of course she isn't."
 
 THE CHINA-SHOP 23 
 
 "Well, I'm blest if I thought you could be so 
 unkind, Mrs. Clover." 
 
 She was silent for three ticks of the clock, an odd 
 hardness having come over her face, then, flushing 
 just a little, as if after an effort, she smiled again, 
 and spoke in her ordinary tone. 
 
 " What had you to say about Polly?" 
 
 " Polly ?— Polly be hanged ! I half believe Polly's 
 no better than she should be." 
 
 The flush on Mrs. Clover's face deepened, and she 
 spoke severely. 
 
 "What do you mean by saying such things?" 
 
 " I didn't mean to," exclaimed Gammon, with 
 hasty penitence. " Look here, I really didn't ; but 
 you put me out. She had some presents given her, 
 that's all." 
 
 " I know it," said Mrs Clover. " She's been here 
 to-day — called this afternoon." 
 
 "Polly did?" 
 
 " Yes, and behaved very badly, too. I don't know 
 what's coming to the girl. If I had a temper like 
 that, I'd—" 
 
 What Mrs. Clover would do, remained conjec- 
 tural. 
 
 " It's a good thing " remarked the other, laughing. 
 " Trust Polly to take care of herself. She cheeked 
 you, did she ? " 
 
 They discussed Miss Sparkes very thoroughly. 
 There had been a battle royal in the afternoon ; for 
 the girl came only to "show off" and make herself
 
 24 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 generally offensive. Mrs Clover desired to be 
 friendly with her sister's daughter, but would stand 
 no "cheek," and had said so. 
 
 " Polly's all right," remarked Mr, Gammon finally. 
 " Don't you fret about her. She ain't that kind. 
 I know 'em". 
 
 " Then why did you say just now- — " 
 
 "Because you riled me, sending Minnie away." 
 
 Again Mrs. Clover reflected, and again she looked 
 her friend steadily in the face. 
 
 " Why did you want her to stay ? " 
 
 Mr. Gammon's heated visage glowed with incredi- 
 ble fervour. He shrugged his shoulders, shuffled his 
 feet, and at length burst out with — 
 
 " Well, I should think you know. It isn't the first 
 time I've showed it, I should think." 
 
 " Then I'm very sorry. I'm real sorry." 
 
 The words fell gently and one might have thought 
 that Mrs. Clover was softening the rejection of a 
 tender proposal made to herself. 
 
 "You mean it's no good?" said the man. 
 
 " Not the least, not a bit. And never could be." 
 
 Mr. Gammon nodded several times, as if calculating 
 the force of the blow, and nerving himself to bear it. 
 
 "Well, if you say it," he replied at length. "I 
 suppose it's a fact — but I call it hard lines. Ever 
 since I was old enough to think of marrying, I've 
 been looking out for the right girl — always looking 
 out; and now I thought I'd found her — hanged if 
 it isn't hard lines ! I could have married scores —
 
 THE CHINA-SHOP 2$ 
 
 scores ; but do you suppose I'd have a girl that 
 showed she was only waiting for me to say the 
 word ? Not me ! — That's what took me in Minnie. 
 She's the first of that kind I ever knew — the only 
 one. But, I say — do you mean you won't let me 
 try? You surely don't mean that, Mrs. Clover." 
 
 " Yes, I do. I mean just that, Mr. Gammon." 
 
 " Why ? Because I haven't got a permanency ? " 
 -"Oh, no." 
 
 " Because I — because I go to Dulwich ? " 
 
 "No!" 
 
 '' Why then ? " 
 
 " I can't tell you why, and I don't know why, but 
 I mean it. And what's more," her eyes sparkled, 
 " if ever you say one such word to Minnie, you 
 never pass my door again." 
 
 This seemed to take Mr. Gammon's breath away. 
 After a rather long silence, he looked about for his 
 hat, then for his dog-whip. 
 
 " I'll say good-night, Mrs. Clover — Hot, isn't it? 
 Hottest day yet — I say, you're not riled with me ? — 
 That's all rights See you again before long." 
 
 He did not make straight for home, but rambled 
 in a circuit for the next hour. When darkness had 
 fallen, he found himself again near the china-shop, 
 and paused for a moment only by the door. On the 
 opposite side of the street stood a man who had 
 also paused in a slow walk, and who also looked to- 
 wards the shop. But Mr. Gammon went his way 
 without so much as a glance at that dim figure.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 POLLY AND MR. PARISH 
 
 Two first-rate quarrels in one day put Polly Sparkes 
 into high good-humour. On leaving her aunt's 
 house in the afternoon, she strolled into Battersea 
 Park, and there treated herself to tea and cakes, at 
 a little round table in the open air. Mrs. Clover, 
 though the quarrel was prolonged until four o'clock, 
 had offered no refreshments, which seemed to Miss 
 Sparkes a very gross instance of meanness and in- 
 hospitality. 
 
 At a table near to her sat two girls for some 
 
 reason taking a holiday, who conversed in a way 
 
 which proved them to be " mantle hands " ; and Polly 
 
 listened and smiled. Did she not well remember 
 
 the day when the poverty of home sent her a little 
 
 girl, to be "trotter" in a workroom? But she 
 
 soon found her way out of that. A sharp tongue, a 
 
 bold eye, and a brilliant complexion helped her on, 
 
 step by step, or jump by jump, till she had found 
 
 much more agreeable ways of supporting herself. 
 
 All unimpeachable, for Polly was fiercely virtuous, 
 
 and put a very high value indeed upon such affeC' 
 
 tions as she had to dispose of. 
 
 26
 
 POLLY AND MR. PARISH 27 
 
 The girls were appraising her costume ; she felt 
 their eyes and enjoyed the envy in them. Her hat 
 with its immense bunch of poppies ; her blouse of 
 shot silk in green and violet ; her gold watch care- 
 lessly drawn out and returned to its pocket. " Now 
 what do you think I am ? A real lady, I'll bet ! " 
 She caught a whisper about her hair. Red, indeed ! 
 Didn't they wish they had anything like it ! Polly 
 could have told them that at a ball she graced with 
 her presence not long ago, her hair was done up 
 with no less than seventy-two pins. Think of that ! 
 Seventy-two pins ! 
 
 She munched a cream tart, and turned her back 
 upon the envious pair. 
 
 Back to Kennington Road by omnibus, riding 
 outside, her eyes and hair doing execution upon a 
 young man in a very high collar, who was, she saw, 
 terribly tempted to address her, but happily for 
 himself, could not pluck up courage. Polly liked 
 to be addressed by strange young men ; experience 
 had made her so skilful in austere rebuke. 
 
 She rested in her bedroom, as stuffy and disorderly 
 a room as could have been found in all Kennington 
 Road. Moggie, the general, was only allowed to 
 enter it in the occupant's presence ; otherwise, who 
 knew what prying and filching might go on ? She 
 paid a very low rent, thanks to Mrs. Bubb's good- 
 nature ; but the strained relations between them 
 made it possible that she would have to leave, and 
 she had been thinking to-day that she could very
 
 28 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 well afford herself a room in a better neighbourhood. 
 Not that, all things considered, she desired to quit 
 this house ; but Mrs. Bubb took too much upon her- 
 self. Mrs. Bubb was the widow of a police officer ; 
 one of her children was in the Police Orphanage at 
 Twickenham, and for the support of each of the 
 others she received half-a-crown a week. This, to 
 be sure, justified the good woman in a certain spirit 
 of pride ; but when it came to calling names, and 
 making unpleasant insinuations — ! If a young lady 
 cannot have a harmless and profitable secret, what 
 is the use of being a young lady ? 
 
 On the way to her duties at the theatre, about 
 seven o'clock, she entered a little stationer's shop in 
 an obscure street and asked, with a smile, whether 
 any letter had arrived for her. Yes, there was one ; 
 addressed in a careless hand to " Miss Robinson." 
 This, in another obscure street hard by, she opened. 
 On half a sheet of notepaper were printed with pen 
 and ink the letters W. S. T. — that was all. Polly 
 had no difificulty in interpreting this cipher. She 
 tore up envelope and paper and walked briskly on. 
 
 There was but a poor " house " this evening ; com- 
 mission on programmes would amount to very little 
 indeed ; but the young gentleman with the weak 
 eyes, who came evening after evening, and must 
 have seen the present piece a hundred times or so, 
 gave her half-a-crown, weeping copiously from 
 nervousness as he touched her hand. He looked 
 about seventeen, and Polly, who always greeted him
 
 POLLY AND MR. PARISH 2() 
 
 with a smile of sportive condescension, wondered 
 how his parents or guardians could allow him to live 
 so recklessly. 
 
 She left half an hour before the end of the 
 performance, with a girl who accompanied her a 
 short way, talking and laughing noisily. Along the 
 crowded pavement, they were followed by a young 
 man of whose proximity Miss Sparkes was well 
 aware, though she seemed not to have noticed him ; 
 a slim, narrow-shouldered, high-hatted figure, with 
 the commonest of well-meaning faces, set just now 
 in a tremulously eager, pursuing look. When Polly's 
 companion made a dart for an omnibus, this young 
 man, suddenly red with joy, took a quick step for- 
 ward, and Polly, saw him beside her in an attitude 
 of respectful accost. 
 
 " Awfully jolly — to meet you like this — " 
 
 "Sure you haven't been waiting?" she asked, 
 with good-humour. 
 
 " Well — I — you said you didn't mind, you know, 
 — didn't you ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't mind!" she laughed. "If you've 
 nothing better to do. There's my 'bus." 
 
 " Oh, I say ! Don't be in such a hurry. I was 
 going to ask you " — he panted — " if you'd come 
 and have just a little supper — if you wouldn't 
 mind—" 
 
 " Nonsense ! You know you can't afford it." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I can — quite well. It would be awfully 
 kind of you — "
 
 30 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 Polly laughed a careless acceptance, and they 
 pressed through the roaring traffic of cross-ways 
 towards an electric glare. In a few minutes they 
 were seated amid plush and marble, mirrors and 
 gilding, in a savoury aromatic atmosphere. Nothing 
 more delightful to Polly, who drew off her gloves 
 and made herself thoroughly comfortable, whilst the 
 young man — his name was Christopher Parish — 
 nervously scanned a bill of fare. As his bearing 
 proved, Mr. Parish was not quite at home amid these 
 splendours ; as his voice and costume indicated, he 
 belonged to the great order of minor clerks, and 
 would probably go dinnerless on the morrow to pay 
 for this evening's festival. The waiter overawed 
 him, and after a good deal of bungling, with anxious 
 consultation of his companion's appetite he ordered 
 something the nature of which was but dimly sug- 
 gested to him by its name. Having accomplished 
 this feat, he at once became hilarious, and began to 
 eat large quantities of dry bread. 
 
 Quite without false modesty in the matter of eat- 
 ing and drinking, Polly made a hearty supper. 
 Christopher ate without consciousness of what was 
 before him, and talked ceaselessly of his good 
 fortune in getting a berth at Swettenham's — the 
 great house of Swettenham Brothers, tea merchants. 
 
 " An enormous place — simply enormous ! What 
 do you think they pay in rent ? — three thousand 
 eight hundred pounds a year. Could you believe 
 it? Three thousand eight hundred pounds ! — And
 
 POLLY AND MR. PARISH 3 1 
 
 how many people do you think they employ ? Now 
 just guess, do just make a shot at it." 
 
 "How do I know? Two or three hundred, I 
 dessay." 
 
 Christopher's face shone with triumph. 
 
 " One thousand — three hundred — and forty-two ! 
 Could you believe it ? " 
 
 " Oh, I dessay," Polly replied, with her mouth 
 full. 
 
 " Enormous — isn't it ? Why it's like a town in 
 itself ! " 
 
 Had his own name been Swettenham, he could hard- 
 ly have shown more pride in these figures. When 
 Polly inquired how much tJiey made a year, he was 
 unable to reply with exactitude, but the mere 
 thought of what such a total must be all but over- 
 came him. Personally he profited by his connec- 
 tion with the great firm to the extent of two pounds 
 a week, an advance of ten shillings on what he had 
 hitherto earned. And his prospects ! Why, they 
 were limitless. Once let a fellow get into Swetten- 
 ham's ! — 
 
 " You're not doing so bad for a single man," re- 
 marked Polly, with facetious malice in her eye. 
 " But it won't run to a supper like this very often." 
 
 " Oh — well — not often of course." His voice 
 quavered into sudden despondency. " Just now 
 and then, you know — Have some cheese ? " 
 
 " Don't mind — gorgonzoler." 
 
 He paid the bill right bravely, and added six-
 
 32 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 pence for the waiter — though it cost him as great a 
 pang as the wrenching of a double tooth. A rapid 
 calculation told him that he must dine at the Aerated 
 Bread Shop for several days to come. Whilst he 
 was thus computing, Polly drew out her gold watch. 
 It caught his eye ; he stood transfixed, and his 
 stare rose from the watch to Polly's face. 
 
 "Just after eleven," she remarked, airily, and be- 
 gan to hum. Christopher had but a silver watch, 
 an heirloom of considerable antiquity ; and the 
 chain was jet. Sunk of a sudden in profoundest 
 gloom, he led the way to the exit, walking like a 
 shame-faced plebeian who had got into the room by 
 mistake. Polly's spirits were higher than ever. 
 Just beyond the electric glare, she thrust her arm 
 under that of her companion. 
 
 " You don't want me to git run over, do you ? " 
 
 Parish had a thrill of satisfaction, but with diffi- 
 culty he spoke. 
 
 " Let's get out of this crowd — beastly, isn't it ! " 
 
 "I don't mind a crowd. I like, it — when I've 
 some one to hang on by." 
 
 " Oh, I don't mind it, I like just what you like — 
 What time did you say it was, Miss Sparkes ? " 
 
 " Just eleven. Time I was gittin' 'ome. There'll 
 be a 'bus at the corner." 
 
 " I hoped you were going to walk," urged Chris- 
 topher, timidly. 
 
 " S'pose I might just as well — if you'll take care 
 of me."
 
 POLLY AND MR. PARISH 33 
 
 It was a long time since Polly had been so gra- 
 cious, so mild. All the way down Whitehall, across 
 the bridge, and into Kennington Road, she chatted 
 of a hundred things, but never glanced at the one 
 which held complete possession of Christopher's 
 mind. Many times he brought himself all but to 
 the point of mentioning it ; yet his courage invariably 
 failed. The risk was too great ; it needed such a 
 trifling provocation to disturb Polly's good-humour. 
 He perspired under the warmth of the night, and 
 from the tumult of his feelings. 
 
 "You mustn't meet me again for a week," said 
 Polly, when her dwelling was within sight. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 ** Because I say so — that's enough, ain't it ? " 
 
 " I say— Polly— " 
 
 " I've told you you're not to say ' Polly,' " she 
 interrupted archly. 
 
 " You're awfully good, you know — but I wish — " 
 
 " What ? Never mind ; tell me next time. Ta- 
 ta ! " 
 
 She ran off, and Christopher had no heart to de- 
 tain her. For five minutes he hung over the para- 
 pet at Westminster, watching the black flood, and 
 asking what was the use of life. On the whole, Mr. 
 Parish found life decidedly agreeable, and after a 
 night's rest, a little worry notwithstanding, he could 
 go to the city in the great morning procession, one 
 of myriads exactly like him, and would hopefully 
 dip his pen into the ink-pots of Swettenham Bros. 
 3
 
 34 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 Moggie, the general, was just coming from the 
 public-house with two foaming jugs, one for Mrs. 
 Bubb, the other for Mr. and Mrs. Cheeseman, her 
 first-floor lodgers ; Miss Sparkes passed her disdain- 
 fully, and entered with the aid of a latch-key. From 
 up-stairs sounded a banjo, preluding ; then the sound 
 of Mr. Cheeseman's voice, chanting a popular re- 
 frain : 
 
 " Come where the booze is cheaper, 
 Come where the pots 'old more, 
 Come where the boss is a bit of a joss, 
 Come to the pub next door ! ' ' 
 
 Polly could not resist this invitation. She looked 
 in at the Cheesemans' sitting-room, and enjoyed 
 half an hour of friendly gossip before going to bed.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A NOND ESC RIPT 
 
 Scarcely had quiet fallen upon the house — it 
 was half an hour after midnight — when at the front 
 door sounded a discreet but resolute knocking. 
 Mrs. Bubb, though she had retired to her chamber, 
 was not yet wholly unpresentable ; reluctantly, and 
 with wonder, she went to answer the untimely visi- 
 tor. After a short parley through the gap of the 
 chained door, she ascended several flights and sought 
 to arouse Mr. Gammon — no easy task. 
 
 " What's up? " shouted her lodger in a voice of 
 half-remembered conviviality.—" House on fire?" 
 
 " I 'ope not indeed. There wouldn't have been 
 much chance for you, if it was. — It's your friend Mr. 
 Greenacre, as says he must see you for a minute." 
 
 "All right. Send him up, please. What the 
 dickens can he want this time o' night I " 
 
 Mr. Gammon having promised to see his visitor 
 out again, with due attention to the house door, the 
 landlady showed a light whilst Mr, Greenacre 
 mounted the stairs. The gas-jet in his friend's bed- 
 room displayed him as a gaunt, ill-dressed man, of 
 
 35
 
 36 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 about forty, with a long unwholesome face, lank 
 hair and prominent eyes. He began with elaborate 
 apologies, phrased and uttered with more refine- 
 ment than his appearance would have led one to 
 expect. No ; he would on no account be seated. 
 Under the circumstances he would not dream of 
 staying more than two, or at most three, minutes. 
 He felt really ashamed of himself for such a flagrant 
 breach of social custom. But if his friend would 
 listen patiently for one minute — nay, for less — 
 
 " I know what you're driving at," broke in Gam- 
 mon, good-humouredly, as he sat in bed with his 
 knees up. " You've nowhere to sleep — ain't that 
 it?" 
 
 " No, no ! I assure you, no ! " exclaimed the 
 other, with unfailing politeness. " I have excellent 
 lodgings, in the parish of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields. 
 Besides, you don't imagine I should disturb you 
 after midnight for such a trivial cause ! — You have 
 heard of the death of Lord Bolsover ? " 
 
 " Never knew he was living," cried Gammon. 
 
 " Nonsense, you are an incorrigible joker. The 
 poor fellow died nearly a week ago. Of course I 
 must attend his funeral to-morrow, down at Hit- 
 chin ; I really couldn't neglect to attend his fune- 
 ral. And here comes my difficulty. At present 
 I'm driving a " Saponaria" van, and I shall have to 
 provide a substitute, you see. I thought I had 
 found one, a very decent fellow called Grosvenor, 
 who declares, by the by, that he can trace his connec-
 
 A NONDESCRIPT 37 
 
 tion with the aristocratic house — interesting, isn't it ? 
 But Grosvenor has got into trouble to-day — some- 
 thing about passing a bad half-crown — a mere mis- 
 take, I'm quite sure. Now I've been trying to find 
 some one else ; not an easy thing ; and as I must 
 have a substitute by nine to-morrow, I came in 
 despair to you. Fm sure in your wide acquaintance, 
 my dear Gammon — " 
 *" Hold on ! what's " Saponaria?" 
 
 " A new washing powder ; only started a few 
 days. Bigvans, painted vermilion and indigo, going 
 about town and suburbs, distributing handbills and 
 so on." 
 
 " I see. But look here, Greenacre, what's all this 
 rot about Lord Bolsover ? " 
 
 " My dear Gammon ! " protested the other. " I 
 really can't allow you to speak in that way. I make 
 all allowance for the hour and the circumstances ; 
 but when it comes to the death of a dear friend — " 
 
 " How the devil came you to be his friend — or he 
 yours?" shouted Gammon, in comical exasperation. 
 
 " Why, surely you have heard me speak of him ! 
 Yet, perhaps not. It was rather a painful subject. 
 The fact is, I once gave the poor fellow a severe 
 thrashing. It was before he succeeded to the title ; 
 I was obliged to do it. Poor Bolsover con- 
 fessed afterwards that he had behaved badly (there 
 was a lady in the case) but it put an end to our in- 
 timacy. And now he's gone, and the least I can do 
 is to attend his funeral. That reminds me, Gammon, 
 
 C-, < O C.) /> 
 
 ^^ -*. %^ i.J> v/
 
 38 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 I fear I shall have to borrow a sovereign, if it's quite 
 convenient to you. There's the hire of the black 
 suit, you see, and the fare to Hitchin. Do you 
 think you could — ?" 
 
 He paused delicately, whereupon Gammon burst 
 into a roar of laughter which echoed through the 
 still house. 
 
 " You're the queerest devil I know," was the re- 
 mark that followed, " It's no use trying to make out 
 what you're really up to." 
 
 " I have stated the case in very clear terms," re- 
 plied Greenacre, solemnly. " The chief thing is to 
 find a substitute to drive the Saponaria van." 
 
 *' What sort of animal in the shafts ? " 
 
 " Two — a pair of Welsh cobs — good little goers." 
 
 "By jingo!" shouted Gammon, "I'll tool 'em 
 round myself. I'm off for to-morrow, and a job of 
 that kind would just suit me." 
 
 Greenacre's face brightened with relief. He be- 
 gan to describe the route which the Saponaria van 
 had to pursue. 
 
 " It's the south-east suburbs, to-morrow, the main 
 thoroughfares of Greenwich, Blackheath, Lewisham 
 and all round there. There are certain shops to call 
 at, to drop bills and samples ; no order-taking. 
 Here's the list. At likely places, you throw out a 
 shower of these little blue cards. Best is near a 
 board-school, when the children are about — I'm 
 greatly obliged to you. Gammon ; I never thought 
 you'd be able to do it yourself. Could you be at
 
 A NONDESCRIPT 39 
 
 the stables just before nine ? I'd meet you and give 
 you a send off. Bait at — where is it ? " He con- 
 sulted the notebook. " Yes, Prince of Wales's 
 Feathers, Catford Bridge ; no money out of pocket ; 
 all settled in the plan of campaign. Rest the cobs 
 for an hour or so. Get round to the stables again 
 about five, and I'll be there — It's very kind of you; 
 Ilm very greatly obliged. And if you cou/d — 
 without inconvenience — " 
 
 His eyes fell upon Gammon's clothing, which lay 
 heaped on a chair. On the part of the man in bed 
 there w^as a moment's hesitation, but Gammon had 
 never refused a loan which it was in his power to 
 grant. In a few minutes he fulfilled his promise to 
 Mrs. Bubb, seeing Greenacre safely out of the house, 
 and making fast the front door again ; then he 
 turned in and slept soundly till seven o'clock. 
 
 All went well in the morning. The sun shone and 
 there was a pleasant north-west breeze ; in high 
 spirits Gammon mounted the big, but light, van 
 which seemed to shout in its brilliancy of red and 
 blue paint. It was some time since he had had the 
 pleasure of driving a pair. Greenacre had not over- 
 praised the cobs ; their start promised an enjoyable 
 day. He was not troubled by any sense of indig- 
 nity, unfailing humour, and a vast variety of experi- 
 ence, preserved him from such thoughts. As al- 
 ways, he threw himself into the business of the 
 moment with conscientious gusto ; he had Sapona- 
 ria at heart, and was as anxious to advertise the
 
 40 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 new washing powder as if the profits were all his 
 own. At one spot where a little crowd chanced to 
 gather about the van, he delivered an address, a 
 fervid eulogy of Saponaria, declaring his conviction 
 (based on private correspondence) that in a week or 
 two it would be exclusively used in all the laun- 
 dries of the Royal Family. 
 
 At one shop where he was instructed to call, he 
 found a little trap waiting, and as he entered there 
 came out a man whom he knew by sight, evidently 
 a traveller, who mounted the trap and drove off. 
 The shopkeeper was in a very disagreeable mood 
 and returned Gammon's greeting roughly. 
 
 "Something wrong?" asked Gammon with his 
 wonted cheeriness. 
 
 " Saw that chap in the white 'at ? I've just told 
 him str'ight that if he comes into this shop again, 
 I'll kick 'im. I told him str'ight— see ? " 
 
 " Did you ? I like to hear a man talk like that. 
 It shows there's something in him. Who is the 
 fellow? I seem to remember him somehow." 
 
 " Quodlings' traveller. And he's lost them my 
 orders. And I shall write and tell 'em so. I never 
 did like that chap, but when he comes in 'ere, with 
 his white 'at, telling me to manage my own busi- 
 ness, and larfing', yis, larfin' — why, I've done with 
 him and I told him str'ight," etc. 
 
 " Quodlings', eh ? " said Gammon, reflectively. 
 "They're likely to be wanting a new traveller, I 
 should say."
 
 A NONDESCRIPT 4I 
 
 "They will if they take my advice," replied the 
 shopkeeper. " And that I shall give 'em, *ot and 
 strong." 
 
 As he drove on, Gammon mused over this inci- 
 dent. The oil and colour business was not one of 
 his " specialities," but he knew a good deal about 
 it, and could easily learn what remained. The name 
 of Quodling interested him, being that of the man 
 in the City who so strikingly resembled Mr. Clover, 
 who, moreover, was probabl}^ connected in some 
 way with the oil and colour firm. It might be well 
 to keep an eye on Quodlings' — a substantial con- 
 cern likely to give one a chance of the " perma- 
 nency " which was, on the whole, desirable. 
 
 He had a boy with him, to hold the horses, a 
 sharp lad whose talk gave him amusement when he 
 was tired of thinking. They found a common in- 
 terest in dogs. Gammon invited the youngster to 
 come and see his " bow-wows " at Dulwich, prom- 
 ising him his choice out of the litter of bull ter- 
 riers. With animation he discoursed upon the points 
 of this species of dog — the pure white coat ; the 
 long, lean, punishing head, flat above ; the breadth 
 behind the ears ; the strength of back. He warned 
 his young friend against the wiles of the " fake," 
 who had been known to pipeclay a mottled animal 
 and deceive the amateur. Altogether the day 
 proved so refreshing that Gammon was sorry when 
 its end drew near. 
 
 Grecnacre was late for his appointment at the
 
 42 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 stables ; he came in a suit of black, imperfectly fit- 
 ting, and a chimney-pot hat some years old, looking 
 very much like an undertaker's man. His appearance 
 seemed to prove that he really had attended a fu- 
 neral, which renewed Gammon's wonder. As a 
 matter of course, they repaired to the nearest eat- 
 ing-house to have a meal together ; an eating-house 
 of the old fashion, known also as a coffee-shop, 
 which Gammon greatly preferred to any kind of 
 restaurant. There on the narrow seats with high 
 wodden backs, as uncomfortable a sitting as could 
 be desired, with food before him of worse quality 
 and worse cooked than any but English-speaking 
 mortals would endure, he always felt at home, and 
 was pleasantly reminded of the days of his youth, 
 when a supper of eggs and bacon at some such re- 
 sort rewarded him for a long week's toil and pinch- 
 ing. Sweet to him were the rancid odours; delight- 
 fully familiar the dirty knives, the twisted forks, 
 the battered teaspoons ; not unwelcome the day's 
 newspaper splashed with brown stains of coffee and 
 spots of grease. He often lamented that this kind 
 of establishment was growing rare, passing away 
 with so many other features of old London. 
 
 More fastidious, Greenacre could have wished his 
 egg some six months fresher, and his drink less ob- 
 viously a concoction of rinsings. But he was a guest, 
 and his breeding did not allow him to complain. 
 Of the funeral he shrank from speaking ; but the 
 few words he dropped were such as would have be-
 
 A NONDESCRIPT 43 
 
 fitted a genuine grief. Gammon even heard him 
 murmur, unconsciously, " Poor Bolsover." 
 
 Having eaten, they wended their way to a little 
 public-house with a parlour known only to the fa- 
 voured few, where Greenacre, after a glass or two of 
 rum — a choice for which he thought it necessary to 
 apologise — began to discourse upon a topic peculi- 
 arly his own. 
 
 " I couldn't help thinking to-day, Gammon, what 
 a strange assembly there would be, if all a man's 
 relatives came to his funeral. Nearly all of us must 
 have such lots of distant connections that we know 
 nothing about. Now a man like Bolsover, an aris- 
 tocrat, with fifty or more acknowledged relatives, in 
 good position ; think how many more there must be 
 in out-of-the-way places, poor and unknown. Aye, 
 and some of them not so very distant kinsfolk, either. 
 Think of the hosts of illegitimate children, for in- 
 stance ; some who know who they are and some who 
 don't." 
 
 This was said so significantly, that Gammon won- 
 dered whether it had a personal appHcation, 
 
 " It's a theory of mine," pursued the other, his 
 prominent eyes fixed on some far vision, " that every 
 one of us, however poor, has some wealthy relative, 
 if he could only be found. I mean a relative within 
 reasonable limits — not a cousin fifty times removed. 
 That's one of the charms of London, to me. A 
 little old man used to cobble my boots for me, a few 
 years ago, in Ball's Pond Road. He had an idea
 
 44 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 that one of his brothers, who went out to New 
 Zealand and was no more heard of, had made a great 
 fortune ; said he'd dreamed about it again and again, 
 and couldn't get rid of the fancy. Well now, the 
 house in which he lived took fire, and the poor old 
 chap was burned in his bed, and so his name got into 
 the newspapers. A day or two after T heard that 
 his brother — the one he spoke of — had been living 
 for some years scarcely a mile away, at Stoke New- 
 ington — a man rolling in money, a director of the 
 British and Colonial Bank." 
 
 " Rummy go ! " remarked Gammon. 
 
 " When I was a lad," pursued the other, after 
 sipping at his refilled glass, " I lived just by an old 
 church in the City, and I knew the verger, and he 
 used to let me look over the registers. I think that's 
 what gave me my turn for genealogy. I believe 
 there are fellows who get a living by hunting up 
 pedigrees ; that would just suit me — if I only knew 
 how to start in the business." 
 
 Gammon looked up, and asked abruptly : 
 
 " Know anybody called Quodling? " 
 
 " Quodling ? No one personally. But there's a 
 firm of Quodling, — brushmakers or something." 
 
 " Oil and colourmen." 
 
 "Yes; to be sure — Quodling? Now I come to 
 think of it — why do you ask ? " 
 
 " There's man in the City called Quodling, a silk 
 broker. For private reasons I should like to know 
 something about him."
 
 A NONDESCRIPT 45 
 
 Greenacre gazed absently at his friend, like one 
 who tries to piece together old memories. 
 
 " Lost it," he muttered at length, in a discontented 
 tone. " Something about a Mrs, Quodling — and 
 a lawsuit — big lawsuit that used to be talked about 
 when I was a boy. My father was a lawyer, you 
 know." 
 
 " Was he ? It's the first time you ever told me," 
 replied Gammon with a chuckle. 
 
 " Nonsense! I must have mentioned it many a 
 time. I've often noticed, Gammon, how very de- 
 fective your memory is. You should use a mnemo- 
 nic system. I made a splendid one some years ago, 
 it helped me immensely." 
 
 *' I could have felt sure," said Gammon, " that 
 you told me once your father was a coal-merchant." 
 
 " Why, so he was — later on. — Am I to under- 
 stand. Gammon, that you accuse me of distorting 
 facts? " 
 
 With the end of his third tumbler, there had come 
 upon Greenacre a tendency to maudlin dignity and 
 sensitiveness ; he laid a hand on his friend's arm, 
 and looked at him with pained reproach. 
 
 " Gammon ! I was never inclined to mendacity 
 — though, I confess, to mendicity I have occasion- 
 ally fallen. To you, Gammon, I could not lie, I 
 respect you ; I admire you ; in spite of the great 
 distance between us in education and habits of mind. 
 If I thought you accused me of falsehood, my dear 
 Gammon, it would distress me deeply. Assure me
 
 46 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 that you don't ! I am easily put out to-day. The 
 death of poor Bolsover — my friend before he suc- 
 ceeded to the title — ! And that reminds me. But 
 for a mere accident, I might myself at this moment 
 have borne a title. My mother, before her marriage, 
 refused the offer of a man who rose to wealth and 
 honors, and only a year or two ago died a baronet. 
 Well, well ! the chances of life— the accidents of 
 birth ! " 
 
 He shook his head for some minutes, murmuring 
 inarticulate regrets. 
 
 " I think I'll just have one more, Gammon." 
 
 " I think not, old boy. Where did you say you 
 lived?" 
 
 " Oh, that's all right. Most comfortable lodg- 
 ings ; in the parish of St. Martin's-in-the-Field. — If 
 you have the slightest doubt of my veracity, leave 
 me. Gammon ; I beg you will leave me. I — in fact 
 I have an appointment with a gentleman I met at 
 poor Bolsover's funeral — " 
 
 With no little difficulty, Gammon led him away, 
 and by means of an omnibus landed him at length 
 near St. Martin's Church. No entreaty could induce 
 the man to give his address. He protested that a 
 few minutes' walk would bring him home, and, as he 
 seemed to have sobered sufficiently. Gammon left 
 him sitting on the church steps, a strange object in 
 his borrowed suit of mourning and his antiquated 
 top hat.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE HEAD-WAITER AT CHAFFEY'S 
 
 " Polly Sparkes had a father. That Mr. Sparkes 
 still lived was not known to the outer circles of 
 Polly's acquaintance ; she never spoke of her family ; 
 and it was not easy to think of Polly in the filial 
 relation. For some years she had lived in complete 
 independence, now and then exchanging a letter with 
 her parent, but seeing him rarely. Not that they 
 were on ill terms ; unpleasantness of that kind had 
 been avoided by their satisfaction in living apart. 
 Polly sometimes wished she had a father " to be 
 proud of " — a sufficiently intelligible phrase on 
 Polly's lips — but for the rest she thought of him 
 with tolerance, as a good silly sort of man who 
 " couldn't help himself " — that is to say, could not 
 help being what he was. 
 
 And Mr. Sparkes was a waiter ; had been a waiter 
 for some thirty years, and would probably pursue 
 the calling as long as he was fit for it. In this fact 
 he saw nothing to be ashamed of ; it had never oc- 
 curred to him that any one could or should be 
 ashamed of the position ; nevertheless, Mr. Sparkes 
 
 47
 
 48 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 was a disappointed, even an embittered man. And 
 that for a subtle reason, which did credit to his 
 sensibility. 
 
 All his life he had been employed at Chaffey's. 
 As a boy of ten he joined Chaffey's in the capacity 
 of plate-washer ; zeal and conduct promoted him, 
 and seniority made him at length head-waiter. In 
 those days, Chaffey's was an eating-house of the old 
 kind, one long room with " boxes " ; beef its staple 
 dish, its drink a sound porter at twopence a pint. 
 How many thousand times had Mr. Sparkes shouted 
 the order, " One ally-mode ! " The chief, almost 
 the only, variant " One 'ot ! " which signified a cut 
 from the boiled round, served of course, with carrots 
 and potatoes remarkable for their excellence. 
 Mid-day dinner was the only meal recognised at 
 Chaffey's : from twelve to half-past two the press of 
 business kept every one breathless and perspiring ; 
 before and after these hours, little if anything was 
 looked for, and at four o'clock the establishment 
 closed its doors. 
 
 But it came to pass that the proprietor of Chaffey's 
 died, and the business fell into the hands of a young 
 man with new ideas. Within a few months Chaffey's 
 underwent a transformation ; it was pulled down, 
 rebuilt, enlarged, beautified ; nothing left of its old 
 self but the name. In place of the homely eating- 
 house there stood a large hall, painted and gilded, 
 and set about with mirrors, furnished with marble 
 tables and cane-bottomed chairs. To all appear-
 
 THE HEAD-WAITER AT CHAFFEY S 49 
 
 ancqs a restaurant on the Franco-Italian pattern. 
 Yet Chaffey's remained English, flagrantly-English, 
 in its viands and its waiters. The new proprietor 
 aimed at combining foreign glitter with the prices 
 and the entertainment acceptable to a public of small 
 means. Moreover, he prospered. The doors were 
 now open from nine o'clock in the morning to twelve 
 at night. There was a bar for the supply of alco- 
 holic drinks — the traditional porter had always been 
 fetched from a neighbouring house — and frivolities 
 such as tea and coffee were in constant demand. 
 
 This change told grievously upon Mr. Sparkes. 
 At the first mention of it he determined to resign ; 
 but a weakness in his character shrank from such a 
 decided step, and he allowed himself to be drawn 
 into a painfully false position. The proprietor did 
 not wish to lose him. Mr. Sparkes was a slim, 
 upright, grave-featured man, whose deportment had 
 its market value ; his side-whiskers and shaven lip 
 gave him a decidedly clerical aspect, which, together 
 with long experience and a certain austerity of 
 command, well-fitted him for superintending the 
 younger waiters. His salary was increased ; his 
 "tips" represented a much larger income than here- 
 tofore ; at the old Chaffey's every diner gave him a 
 penny, whilst at the new he often received two- 
 pence, and customers were much more numerous. 
 But every copper he pouched cost Mr. Sparkes a 
 pang of humiliation ; his " thank you, sir," had the 
 urbanity which has become mechanical, but more 
 4
 
 50 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 often than not he sneered inwardly, despising him- 
 self and those upon whom he waited. 
 
 To one person alone did he exhibit all the bitter- 
 ness of his feelings, and that was Mrs. Clover, the 
 sister of his deceased wife. With her he occasion- 
 ally spent a Sunday evening in the parlour behind 
 the china-shop, and there would speak the thoughts 
 that oppressed him. 
 
 " It isn't that I've any quarrel with the foreign 
 rest'rants, Louisa. They're all right in their way. 
 They suit a certain public, and they charge certain 
 prices. But what I do think is mean and low — mean 
 and low — is to be neither one thing nor the other; 
 to make a sort of show as if you was 'igh-clawss, and 
 then have it known as you're the cheapest of the 
 cheap. Potatoes ! That I should live to see Chaf- 
 fey's 'anding out such potatoes ! They're more like 
 food for pigs, and I've known the day when Chaf- 
 fey's 'ud have thrown 'em at the 'ead of anybody as 
 delivered 'em such offal. It isn't a place for a self- 
 respecting man, and I feel it more and more. If a 
 shop boy wants to take out his sweetheart and make 
 a pretence of doing it grand, where does he go to ? 
 Why, to Chaffey's. He couldn't afford a real rest- 
 'rant, but Chaffey's looks the same, and Chaffey's is 
 cheap. To hear 'em ordering roast fowl and camum- 
 beer cheese to follow — it fair sickens me. Roast 
 fowl ! A old 'en as wouldn't be good enough for a 
 real rest'rant to make inter soup ! And the camum- 
 beer ! I've got my private idea, Louisa, about what
 
 THE HEAD-WAITER AT CHAFFEY S 5 1 
 
 that camumbeer is made of. And when I think of 
 the Cheshire and the Cheddar we used to top up 
 with ! It's 'art-breaking." 
 
 From a speaker with such a countenance all 
 this was very impressive. Mrs. Clover shook her 
 head, and considered what England was coming to. 
 In return, she would tell of the people who came to 
 her shop to hire cups and saucers, just to make a 
 show when they had a friend to tea with them. 
 There was much of the right spirit in both these 
 persons, for they sincerely despised shams, though 
 they were not above profiting by the snobberies of 
 others. But Mrs. Clover found amusement in the 
 state of things ; whereas Mr. Sparkes grew more 
 despondent the more he talked, and always added 
 with a doleful self-reproach. 
 
 " If I'd been half a man I should have left. They'd 
 have taken me on at Simpkin's, I know they would, 
 or at the Old City Chop-house, if I'd waited for a 
 vacancy. Who'd take me on now? Why, they'd 
 throw it in my face that I came from Chaffey's, and 
 I shouldn't have half a word to say for myself." 
 
 It was very seldom that he received a written in- 
 vitation from his sister-in-law, but he heard from her 
 in these hot days of June that she particularly wished 
 to see him as soon as possible. The message, he 
 thought, must have some reference to Mrs. Clover's 
 husband, whose reappearance at any moment would 
 have been no great surprise, even after an absence 
 of six years. Mr. Sparkes had a strong objection to
 
 52 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 mysterious persons ; he was all for peace and com- 
 fort in a familiar routine, and for his own part had 
 often hoped that the man Clover was by this time 
 dead and buried. Responding as soon as possible 
 to Mrs. Clover's summons, he found that she wished 
 to speak to him about his daughter. Mrs. Clover 
 showed herself seriously disturbed by Polly's recent 
 behaviour ; she told of the newly-acquired jewellery, 
 of the dresses in which Miss Sparkes went " flaunt- 
 ing," of the girl's scornful refusal to answer natural 
 inquiries. 
 
 " The long and the short of it is, Ebenezer, you 
 ought to see her and find out what's going on. 
 There may be nothing wrong ; and I don't say there 
 is ; but that watch and chain of hers wasn't bought 
 under twenty pounds, that I'll answer for, and it's a 
 very queer thing, to say the least of it. What busi- 
 ness was it of mine, she asked. I shouldn't wonder 
 if she says the same to you ; but it's your plain duty 
 to have a talk with her — don't you think so now ?" 
 
 To have a talk with Polly, especially on such a 
 subject, was no easy or pleasant undertaking for Mr. 
 Sparkes, who had so long resigned all semblance of 
 parental authority. But as a conscientious man he 
 could not stand aside when his only surviving 
 daughter seemed in peril. After an exchange of 
 post-cards, a meeting took place between them, 
 on the Embankment below Waterloo Bridge — for 
 neither father nor child had anything in the nature 
 of a home beyond the indispensable bed-room, and
 
 THE HEAD-WAITER AT CHAFFEY'S 53 
 
 their only chance of privacy was in the open air. 
 Having no desire to quarrel with her parent (it would 
 have been so very one-sided and uninspiriting) Polly 
 began in a conciliatory tone: 
 
 "Aunt Louisa's been making a bother, has she? 
 Just like her. Don't you listen to her fussicking, 
 dad. What's all the row about ? I've had a present 
 given to me — well, what of that ? You can look at 
 ft for yourself. I can't tell you who give it me, 'cos 
 I've promised I wouldn't ; but you'll know some 
 day, and then you'll larff. It ain't nothing to fret 
 your gizzard about — so there. I'm old enough to 
 look after myself, and if I ain't, I never shall be — so 
 there." 
 
 This did not satisfy Mr. Sparkes. He saw that 
 the watch and chain were certainly valuable, and he 
 could not imagine how the girl had become hon- 
 ourably possessed of them, save as the gift of an 
 admirer ; but the mere fact of such an admirer's ex- 
 acting secrecy implied a situation of danger, 
 
 " I don't like the look of it, Polly," he remarked, 
 with a nervous attempt to be severe. 
 
 " All right, dad. Then don't like the look of it. 
 The watch is good enough for me." 
 
 It took Mr. Sparkes two or three minutes to un- 
 derstand this joke. Whilst he was reflecting upon 
 it a thought suddenly passed through his mind 
 which startled him by its suggestiveness. 
 
 "Polly—" 
 
 " Well ? "
 
 54 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 " It ain't your uncle Clover, is it? " 
 
 The girl laughed loudly, as if at a preposterous 
 question. 
 
 " Him ? Why, I've as good as forgot there was 
 such a man ! What do you mean ? Why, I shouldn't 
 know him if I saw him. What made you think of 
 that?" 
 
 " Oh, I don't know. Who knows when and where 
 he may turn up, or what he'll do ? " 
 
 " That's a good 'un ! My uncle Clover, indeed ! 
 Whatever put that into your 'ead ! " 
 
 Her ejaculations of wonder and disdain continued 
 until the close of the interview, and Mr. Sparkes 
 went his way convinced that Polly was being pur- 
 sued by some wealthy man, probably quite unprin- 
 cipled—the kind of man who frequents " proper res- 
 t'rants " and sits in the stalls at " theaytres," where 
 doubtless Polly had made his acquaintance. After 
 brooding for a day for two on this idea, he procured 
 a sheet of the cheapest notepaper, and sat down in 
 his bed-room, high up at Chaffey's, to compose a 
 letter for his daughter's behoof. 
 
 " Dear Polly, 
 
 " I write you these few lines to say that the more 
 I think about you and your way of carrying on the 
 less I like the look of it and the sooner I make that 
 plain to you the better for both of us, and I'm sure 
 you will think the same. You are that strong- 
 headed, my girl, but listen tothe warnings of experi-
 
 THE HEAD-WAITER AT CHAFFEY'S 55 
 
 ence, who have seen a great deal of the wicked world 
 and cannot hope to see much more of it at my present 
 age. There will come a day when you will wish that 
 you could hear of me by a note to Chaffey's, but such 
 will not be. Before it's too late I take up the pen 
 to say these few words, which is this, I have always 
 been a respectable and a saving man, which I hope 
 to until I am no more. What I mean to say is 
 this, Chaffey's is not what it used to be, but I have 
 laid by, and when it comes to the solemn hour then 
 Mr. Walker has promised to make my will. All I 
 want to say is that there may be more than you think 
 for, and if you are respectable I think it most likely 
 all will be yours. But listen to this, If you disgrace 
 yourself, my girl, not one halfpenny nor yet one 
 sixpenny piece, will you receive from. 
 
 " Your affectionate father, 
 
 " Ebenezer Sparkes. 
 
 " P. S. This is wrote in a very serious mind." 
 
 This epistle at once pleased and angered Polly. 
 Though a greedy, she was not a mercenary, young 
 woman ; she had little cunning, and her vulgar 
 ambitions were consistent with a good deal of honest 
 feeling. To do her justice, she had never considered 
 the possibility that her father might have money to 
 bequeath ; his disclosure surprised her, and caused 
 her to reflect for the first time that Chaffey's head- 
 waiter had long held a tolerably lucrative position,
 
 56 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 whilst his expenses must have been trivial. So much 
 the better for her. On the other hand, she strongly 
 resented his suspicions and warning. In the muddled 
 obscurity of Polly's consciousness there was a some- 
 thing which stood for womanly pride. She knew 
 very well what dangers perpetually surrounded her, 
 and she contrasted herself with the girls who weakly, 
 or recklessly, threw themselves away. Divided thus 
 between injury and gratitude, she speedily answered 
 her father's letter, writing upon a sheet of scented 
 grass-green notepaper, deeply ribbed, which made 
 her pen blot, splutter and sprawl far more than it 
 would have done on a smooth surface. 
 
 " Dear Dad, 
 
 " In reply to yours what I have to say is 
 Aunt Louisa and Mrs. Bubb are nasty cats, and I 
 don't thank them for making a bother. It is very 
 kind of you about your will though I'm sure if you 
 believe me I don't want not yet to see you in your 
 grave and what I do think is you might have a better 
 oppinion of your daghter and not think all the bad 
 things you can turn your mind to. And if it is me 
 that dies first you will be sorry for the wrong you 
 done me. So I will say no more, dear dad, 
 
 " From your loving 
 
 " Polly,"
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 POLLY' S WRATH 
 
 Polly posted her letter on the way to the theatre. 
 This evening she had a private engagement for ten 
 o'clock, and, on setting forth to the appointed place, 
 she looked carefully about her to make sure that no 
 one watched or followed her. Christopher Parish 
 was not the only young man who had a habit of stand- 
 ing to wait for her at the theatre door. Upon him she 
 could lay her commands with some assurance that 
 they would be observed, but others were less sub- 
 missive; and at times had given her trouble. To be 
 sure, she could always get rid of importunate persons 
 by the use of her special gift, that primitive sarcasm 
 which few cared to face for more than a minute or 
 two ; but with admirers Polly wished to be as far as 
 possible gracious, never coming to extremities with 
 one of them until she was quite certain that she 
 thoroughly disliked him. Finding the coast clear, 
 (which after all, slightly disappointed her), she 
 walked sharply into another street, where she hailed 
 a passing hansom and was driven to Lincoln's Inn 
 Fields. 
 
 57
 
 58 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 Here, on the quiet pavement, shadowed by the 
 College of Surgeons, she lingered in expectancy. 
 Ten was striking, but she looked in vain for the 
 figure she would recognise — that of a well-dressed, 
 middle-aged man, with a white silk comforter about 
 his neck and drawn up so as to hide his mouth. 
 Twice she had met him here, and on each occasion he 
 was waiting for her when she arrived. Five minutes 
 passed, ten minutes ; she grew very impatient and, as 
 a necessary consequence, very angry. To avoid un- 
 pleasant attention from the few people who walked 
 by, she had to pace backwards and forwards as if 
 going about her business. When the clocks chimed 
 the first quarter, Polly was in a turmoil of anger 
 blended with disappointment and apprehensions. 
 She could not have made a mistake. The message 
 she had received was " W. S. T." which meant, 
 " Wednesday, Same Time." Some accident must 
 have interfered. At twenty minutes past ten she 
 had lost all hope. She must go home, and wait for 
 a possible communication on the morrow. 
 
 Swinging her skirts, clenching her fists and talking 
 silently at a great rate, she walked in the direction 
 of Chancery Lane. At a corner, some one going in 
 the opposite direction caught sight of her and 
 stopped. Polly was so preoccupied that she would 
 not have noticed the figure had it merely passed ; by 
 stopping it drew her attention, and she beheld 
 Christopher Parish. 
 
 "Why, Miss Sparkes!"
 
 POLLYS WRATH 59 
 
 He held out his hand, but to no purpose. Polly 
 had her eyes fixed upon him and they flashed with 
 hostility. 
 
 " What do you mean by it ? " 
 
 "Mean? By what?" 
 
 The young man was astonished ; his hand dropped 
 and he trembled before her. 
 
 - " How dare you spy after me ? Nasty little 
 wretch ! " 
 
 " Spy after you, Miss Sparkes ? Why, I hadn't 
 the least idea of anything of the kind — I swear I 
 hadn't ! I was just taking a walk — " 
 
 "Oh, yes! Of course ! You're always taking a 
 walk, aren't you ? And you always come just this 
 way, cause it's nice and convenient for Lambeth 
 Road, ain't it ? I've a good mind to call a p'liceman, 
 and give you in charge for stopping me in the 
 street!" 
 
 *' Well, did ever anybody hear such a thing as 
 this I " exclaimed Mr. Parish, faint in voice and 
 utterly at a loss for protestations at all effective. 
 " I tell you I was only taking a walk — that's to say, 
 I've been with a friend — " 
 
 "A friend? Oh, yes, of course. What friend ? " 
 
 " It's somebody you don't know ; his name — " 
 
 " Oh, of course, I don't know him 1 And I don't 
 know you either, after to-night, so just remember 
 that, Mr. Parish! The idea! If I can't take two 
 steps without being followed and spied upon ! And 
 you call yourself a gentleman ! Get out of my way,
 
 6o THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 please, if you want to follow and spy, you're quite 
 at liberty to do so. P'r'aps it'll ease your nasty little 
 mind. Don't talk to me ! What business have you 
 got to stop me in the street, I'd like to know? If 
 you're not careful I shall send a complaint to your 
 employers, and then you'll have plenty of time to 
 go taking walks." 
 
 She turned from him, and pursued her way, but 
 not so quickly as before. Christopher, limp with 
 misery, tried to move off in another direction, but 
 in spite of himself he was drawn after her. By 
 Chancery Lane and along the Strand he kept her in 
 sight, often with difficulty, for he durst not draw 
 nearer than some twenty yards. At Charing Cross 
 she stopped, and by her movements showed that 
 she was looking for an omnibus. Parish longed to 
 approach, quivered with the ever-recurrent impulse — 
 but his fear prevailed. In a more lucid state of 
 mind he would probably have remarked that Polly 
 allowed a great many omnibuses to go by, and that 
 she was surely waiting much longer than she need 
 have done. But at length she jumped in and dis- 
 appeared ; whereupon Mr. Parish spent all the money 
 he had with him on a large brandy and soda — hop- 
 ing it would make him drunk. 
 
 The door of the house in Kennington Road 
 stood open ; in the passage Mr. Gammon and Mr. 
 Cheeseman were conversing genially. They 
 nodded to Polly, but did not speak. Passing them 
 to the head of the kitchen stairs, she called to Mrs.
 
 POLLY'S WRATH 6l 
 
 Bubb, and that lady's voice summoned her to 
 descend. 
 
 " Are you alone ? " asked Miss Sparkes, sharply. 
 
 " There's only Mrs. Cheeseman." 
 
 Polly went down into the kitchen, where Mrs. 
 Cheeseman, a stout woman of slatternly appearance, 
 was sitting with her legs crossed, and a plate of 
 shrimps in her lap. 
 
 " Have a shrimp, Polly ? " began Mrs. Bubb, anx- 
 ious to dismiss the memory of recent discord. 
 
 " Thank you, Mrs. Bubb, if I have a fancy for 
 shrimps I can afford to buy them for myself." 
 
 " Well, you are nasty ! Ain't she real obstropo- 
 lous, Mrs. Cheeseman ? I never know a nastier- 
 tempered girl in all my life, that I never did. There's 
 actially no living with her." 
 
 " Now set down, Polly," urged the stout woman, 
 in an unctuous voice. " Set down, do, an' take things 
 easy. You'll worrit your sweet self to death before 
 you're many years older, if you go on like this." 
 
 " I'm much obliged to you, Mrs. Cheeseman," 
 answered Polly, holding herself very stiff, " but I 
 didn't come here to set down, nor to talk neither. 
 But I'm glad you're here, because you'll be a witness 
 to what I say. I've come to give Mrs. Bubb a 
 week's notice. She's often enough told me that she 
 wants to keep her house respectable, and I'm sure 
 she'll be glad to get rid of people as don't suit her. 
 It's the first time I was ever told that I disgraced a 
 'ouse, and I hope it'll be the last time too. When
 
 62 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 I pay my rent to-morrow morning, you'll please to 
 understand, Mrs. Bubb, that I've given a week's 
 notice. I may be a disgrace, but I daresay there's 
 people as won't be ashamed to let me a room. 
 And that's what I came to say, and now I have said 
 it, and Mrs. Cheeseman is a witness." 
 
 This was spoken so rapidly that it left Polly 
 breathless and with a very high colour. The elder 
 women looked at each other, and Mrs. Cheeseman, 
 with a shrimp in her mouth, resumed the attempt at 
 pacification. 
 
 " Now see 'ere, Polly. You're a young gyell, my 
 dear, and a 'andsome gyell, as we all know, and 
 you've only one fault, which there ain't no need to 
 mention it. And we're all fond of you, Polly, that's 
 the fact. Ain't we all fond of her, Mrs. Bubb?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! She's very fond of me ! " exclaimed 
 the girl. "And so is my aunt Louisa. And to 
 show it they go telling everybody that I ain't re- 
 spectable — that I'm a disgrace to a decent 'ouse. 
 D'you think I'll stand it ? " Of a sudden she changed 
 from irony to fierceness. " What do you mean by 
 it, Mrs. Bubb? Did you never hear of people being 
 prosecuted for taking away people's characters? 
 Just you mind what you're about, Mrs. Bubb. I give 
 you fair warning, and that's all I have to say to 
 you. 
 
 Having relieved her feelings with these and a few 
 more verbal missiles, Polly ran up the kitchen steps. 
 In the passage the two men were still conversing ;
 
 folly's wrath 63 
 
 at sight of Polly they stopped with an abruptness 
 which did not escape her observation. No doubt, 
 she said to herself, they had been talking about her. 
 No doubt, too, they had their reasons for letting her 
 go by, as before, without a word. Only when she 
 was half-way up the first flight of stairs did Mr. 
 Cheeseman call to her a " Good-night, Miss Sparkes," 
 to which she made no reply whatever. 
 
 On the morrow she called at the little stationer's 
 shop, but no letter awaited her. She decided to be 
 again at the rendezvous that evening, lest there 
 should have been some mistake in her cipher mes- 
 sage ; but she lingered near the College of Surgeons 
 in vain. Polly's heart sunk as she went home, for 
 to-night there was no one to quarrel with. Mrs. 
 Bubb, and all the lodgers had shown that they meant 
 to hold aloof ; not even Moggie would look at her 
 or speak a word. It was quite an unprecedented 
 state of things, and Polly found it disagreeable. 
 
 There was only one consolation and that a poor 
 one. She had received a letter from Christopher 
 Parish, a letter of abject remonstrance and entreaty. 
 He grovelled at her feet. He talked frantically of 
 poison and the river. If she would but meet him 
 and hear him in his own defence ! And Polly, quite 
 meaning to do so, gave herself the pleasure of appear- 
 ing obdurate for a couple of days. 
 
 At the theatre, she examined every row of spec- 
 tators in stalls and dress-circle, having her own reason 
 for thinking that she might discover a certain face.
 
 64 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 But no such fortune befell her, and still no letter 
 came. 
 
 At home she suffered increasing discomfort. For 
 one thing, she had to seek her meals in the nearest 
 coffee-shop, instead of going down into Mrs. Bubb's 
 kitchen, and gossiping as she ate at the family deal 
 table, amid the dirt and disorder which custom had 
 made pleasant. When in the house, she locked 
 herself in her bed-room, reading the kind of print 
 that interested her, or lying in sullen idleness on the 
 bed. Numerous as were her acquaintances else- 
 where, they did not compensate her for the loss of 
 domestic habit. As the week drew on, she bethought 
 herself that she must look for new lodgings. In 
 giving notice to Mrs. Bubb she had not believed for 
 a moment that it would come to this ; she felt sure 
 that her old friend would make up the quarrel and 
 persuade her to stay. Nothing of the kind ; for 
 once, she was taken most literally at her word. 
 There were moments when Polly felt disposed to 
 cry. 
 
 It vexed her much more than she would have 
 thought to miss the jocose greetings of her neigh- 
 bour Mr. Gammon. As usual, he sang in his bed- 
 room of a morning ; as usual he shouted orders and 
 questions to Moggie ; but for her he had never a 
 word. She listened for him as he came out of the 
 room, and once so far humbled herself as to affect 
 a cough in his hearing. Mr. Gammon paid no at- 
 tention.
 
 POLLY'S WRATH 65 
 
 Then she raged at him — of course sotto voce. 
 Many were the phrases of abuse softly hurled at him 
 as he passed her door. The worst of it was that 
 none of them seemed really applicable. Her vision 
 of the man defeated all such contumely. She had 
 never disliked Mr. Gammon ; oddly enough she 
 seemed to think of him with a more decided friend- 
 liness now that his conduct demanded her enmity. 
 She asked herself whether he really believed any 
 harm of her. It looked very much as if he did, and 
 the thought sometimes kept her awake for fully a 
 quarter of an hour. 
 
 It was the last day but one of her week. To- 
 morrow she must either submit to the degradation of 
 begging Mrs. Bubb's leave to remain or pack her boxes 
 and have them removed before nightfall. Worry 
 had ended by giving her a slight headache, a very 
 rare thing indeed. Moreover, it rained, and break- 
 fast was only obtainable by walking some dis- 
 tance. 
 
 " Oh, the beasts! " Polly exclaimed to herself, as 
 she pulled on her boots ; meaning the inhabitants of 
 the house all together. 
 
 Mr. Gammon opened his door and shouted down 
 the staircase. 
 
 " Moggie ! Fry me three eggs this morning with 
 the bacon — do you hear ? " 
 
 Three eggs ! Fried with bacon ! And all comfor- 
 tably set out at the end of the kitchen table. And 
 to think that she might be going down to breakfast
 
 66 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 at the same time, with Mr. Gammon's jokes for a 
 
 relish ! 
 
 " Oh, the wretches ! The mean, selfish brutes ! " 
 She stamped about the floor, to ease her nerves, 
 as she put on a common hat and an old jacket. 
 She unlocked her door with violence, banged it 
 open, and slammed it to again. From the staircase 
 window she saw that the rain was falling more 
 heavily and she could not wait, for she felt hungry 
 — after hearing about those three eggs. If she met 
 any one down below ! 
 
 And, as chance had it, she met Mrs. Cheeseman, 
 just coming up to her room from the kitchen, with 
 a dish of sausages. The woman grinned, and turned 
 her head away. Polly had never been so tempted 
 to commit an assault ; she thought with a burning 
 brain how effective would be one smart stroke on 
 the dish of sausages with the handle of her um- 
 brella. 
 
 Still hot from this encounter, in the passage she 
 came face to face with Mrs. Bubb. The landlady 
 seemed to hesitate, but, before Polly had gone by, 
 she addressed her, with exaggerated politeness. 
 
 " Good-morning, Miss Sparkes. So I s'pose we're 
 losing you to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Yes, you are," Polly replied, from a parched 
 throat, glaring at her enemy. 
 
 " Oh, then I'll put the card up." 
 
 " Do ! I wouldn't lose no time about it. — And 
 listen to this, Mrs. Bubb. Next time you see your
 
 POLLY'S WRATH 67 
 
 friend Mrs. Clover, you may tell her that if she wants 
 to know where her precious 'usband is, she's not to 
 ask me, 'cos I wouldn't let her know not if she was 
 on her death-bed ! " 
 
 Having uttered this surprising message, with point 
 and emphasis worthy of its significance, Polly has- 
 tened from the house, and Mrs. Bubb stood look- 
 ing after her in bewilderment.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 MR. gammon's resolve 
 
 Convinced that his life was blighted, Mr. Gam- 
 mon sang and whistled with more than usual vi- 
 vacity as he dressed each morning. It was not in his 
 nature to despond ; he had received many a knock- 
 down blow, and always came up fresher after it. 
 Mrs. Clover's veto upon his tender hopes with regard 
 to Minnie had not only distressed, but greatly sur- 
 prised, him ; for during the last few months he had 
 often said to himself that whether Minnie favoured 
 his suit or not, her mother's good-will was a cer- 
 tainty. His advances had been of the most delicate ; 
 no word of distinct wooing had passed his lips ; but 
 he thought of Minnie a great deal, and came to the 
 decision that in her the hopes of his life were centred. 
 It might be that Minnie had no inkling of his in- 
 tentions ; she was so modest, so unlike the every- 
 day girls who tittered and ogled with every mar- 
 riageable man ; on that very account he had made 
 her his ideal. And Mrs. Clover would help him as 
 a mother best knows how. The shock of learning 
 
 that Mrs. Clover would do no such thing utterly 
 68
 
 MR. gammon's resolve 69 
 
 confused his mind. He still longed for Minnie, yet 
 seemed of a sudden hopelessly remote from her. 
 He could not determine whether he had given her 
 up or not ; he did not know whether to bow before 
 Mrs. Clover, or to protest and persevere. He liked 
 Mrs. Clover far too much to be angry with her ; he 
 respected Minnie far too much to annoy her by an 
 unwelcome courtship ; he wished, in fact, that he 
 had not made a fool of himself that evening, and 
 wanted things to be as they were before. 
 
 In the meantime he occupied himself in looking 
 out for a new engagement. Plenty were to be had, 
 but he aimed at something better than had satisfied 
 him hitherto. He must get a permanency ; at his 
 age, it was time he settled into a life of respectable 
 routine. But for his foolish habit of living from 
 hand to mouth, now in this business, now in that, 
 indulging his taste for variety, Mrs. Clover would 
 never, he felt sure, have " put her foot down " in that 
 astonishing way. The best thing he could do was 
 to show himself in a new light. 
 
 Thanks to his good-nature, his practicality, and the 
 multitude of his acquaintances, all manner of shift- 
 less or luckless fellows were in the habit of looking 
 to him for advice and help. As soon as they found 
 themselves adrift, they turned to Gammon. Every- 
 day he had a letter asking him to find a " berth" or 
 a " billet " for some out-at-elbows friend, and in a 
 surprising number of cases he was able to make a 
 useful suggestion. It would have paid him to start an
 
 70 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 employment agency ; as it was, instead of receiving 
 fees, he very often supplied his friends* immediate ne- 
 cessities out of his own pockets. The more he earned, 
 the more freely he bestowed ; so that his occasional 
 strokes of luck in commerce were of no ultimate 
 benefit to him. No man in his position had a larger 
 credit ; for weeks at a time, he could live with- 
 out cash expenditure ; but this was seldom neces- 
 sary. 
 
 By a mental freak which was characteristic of him, 
 he nursed the thought of connecting himself with 
 Messrs. Quodlingand Son, oil and colour merchants. 
 Theirs was a large and sound business, both in town 
 and country. It might not be easy to become 
 traveller to such a firm, but his ingenious mind tossed 
 and turned the possibilities of the case, and after a 
 day or two spent in looking up likely men — which 
 involved a great deal of drinking in a great variety 
 of public resorts — he came across an elderly traveller 
 who had represented Quodling on a northern cir- 
 cuit, and who boasted a certain acquaintance with 
 Quodling the Senior. Thus were things set in train. 
 At a second meeting with the venerable bagman — 
 who had a wonderful head for whisky — Gammon 
 acquired so much technical information that oil and 
 colours might fairly be set down among his numerous 
 " specialities." Moreover, his friend promised to 
 speak a word for him in the right quarter when 
 opportunity offered. 
 
 " By the way," Gammon remarked, carelessly,
 
 MR. gammon's resolve 71 
 
 "are these Quodlings any relation to Quodling the 
 silk broker in the City ? " 
 
 His companion smiled over the rim of a deep 
 tumbler and continued to smile through a long 
 draught. 
 
 " Why do you ask ? " 
 
 " No particular reason. Happened to know the 
 other man — by sight." 
 
 " They're brothers — Quodling senior and the 
 broker." 
 
 " What's the joke ? " asked Gammon, as the other 
 still smiled. 
 
 " Old joke — very old joke. The two men just as 
 unlike as they could be — in face, I mean. I never 
 took the trouble to inquire about it, but I've been 
 told there was a lawsuit years ago — something to do 
 with the will of Lord somebody, who left money to 
 old Mrs. Quodling — who wasn't old then. Don't 
 know the particulars, but I'm told that something 
 turned on the likeness of the younger boy to the 
 man who made the will — see ?" 
 
 *' Ah ! Oh ! " muttered Gammon, reflectively. 
 
 " An uppish, high-notioned fellow, Quodling the 
 broker. Won't have anything to do with his 
 brother. He's nothing much, himself ; went through 
 the court not very long ago." 
 
 Gammon promised himself to look into this story 
 when he had time. That it could in any way con- 
 cern him, he did not seriously suppose, but he liked 
 to track things out. Some day he would have an-
 
 72 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 other look at Quodling the broker, who so strongly 
 resembled Mrs. Clover's husband. Both of them, 
 it seemed, bore a likeness to some profligate aristo- 
 crat. Just the kind of thing to interest that queer 
 fish Greenacre. 
 
 In the height of the London season, nothing 
 pleased Gammon more than to survey the streets 
 from an omnibus. Being just now a man of leisure, 
 he freely indulged himself, spending an hour or two 
 each day in the liveliest thoroughfares. It was a 
 sure way of forgetting his cares. Sometimes he took 
 a box place and chatted with the driver ; or he made 
 acquaintances, male and female, on the cosy cross- 
 seats just broad enough for two. The London 
 panorama under a sky of June feasted his laughing 
 eyes. Now he would wave a hand to a friend on 
 the pavement or borne past on another 'bus ; now 
 he would chuckle at a bit of comedy in real life. 
 Huge hotels and brilliant shops vividly impressed 
 him, though he saw them for the thousandth time ; 
 a new device in advertising won his ungrudging 
 admiration. Above all, he liked to find himself in 
 the Strand, at that hour of the day when east and 
 west show a double current of continuous traflfic, 
 tight wedged in the narrow street, moving at a mere 
 footpace, every horse's nose touching the back of 
 the next vehicle. The sun could not shine too hotly ; 
 it made colours brighter, gave a new beauty to the 
 glittering public-houses, where names of cooling 
 drinks seemed to cry aloud. He enjoyed a " block "
 
 MR. gammon's resolve 73 
 
 and was disappointed unless he saw the policemen 
 at Wellington Street, holding up his hand, whilst 
 the cross traffic from north and south rolled grandly 
 through. It aways reminded him of the Bible story ; 
 Moses parting the waters of the Red Sea. 
 
 He was in the full enjoyment of this spectacle, 
 when an odour of cloves breathed across his face, 
 and a voice addressed him. 
 
 " Isn't that you, Mr. Gammon ? Well, if I didn't 
 think so ! " 
 
 The speaker was a young woman, who, with a male 
 companion, had just mounted the 'bus and seated 
 herself at Gammon's back. Facing round, he re- 
 cognised her as a friend of Polly Sparkes, Miss 
 Waghorn by name, who adorned a refreshment bar 
 at the theatre where Polly sold programmes. With a 
 marked display of interesting embarrassment, Miss 
 Waghorn introduced him to her companion, Mr. 
 Nibby, who showed himself cordial. 
 
 " I've often heard talk of you, Mr. Gammon — glad 
 to meet you, sir. I think it's Berlin wools, isn't 
 it?" 
 
 " Well it was, sir, but it's been fancy leather goods 
 lately, and now it's going to be something else. 
 You are the Gillingwater burners, I believe, sir." 
 
 Mr. Nibby betrayed surprise. 
 
 " And may I ask you how you know that ? " 
 
 " Oh, I've a good memory for faces — I travelled 
 with you on the underground not very long ago, 
 and saw the name on some samples you had."
 
 74 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 " Now, that's what I call smart observation, 
 Carrie," said the GilHngwater burners, beaming upon 
 Miss Waghorn. 
 
 " Oh, we all know that Mr. Gammon's more than 
 seven," replied the young lady, with a throaty laugh ; 
 and her joke was admirably received, 
 
 " Business good, sir?" asked Gammon. 
 
 " Not bad for the time of year, sir — Is it true, do 
 you know, that Milligan of Bishopsgate has burst 
 up?" 
 
 " I heard so yesterday. Not surprised. Business 
 very badly managed. Great shame too, for I know 
 he got it very cheap, and there was a fortune in it. 
 Two years ago I could have bought the whole con- 
 cern for a couple of thousand." 
 
 " You don't say so ! " 
 
 Mr. Gammon was often heard to remark that he 
 could have bought this, that or the other thing for 
 something paltry, such as a couple of thousands. It 
 was not idle boasting ; such opportunities had indeed 
 come in his way, and with his generous optimism, he 
 was content to ignore the fact that only the money 
 was wanting. 
 
 " What's wrong with Polly Sparkes ? " inquired 
 the young lady presently, again sending a waft of 
 cloves into Gammon's face. 
 
 " That's what I want to know." he answered fa- 
 cetiously. 
 
 " She's awful cut up about something. I thought 
 you was sure to know what it was, Mr. Gammon.
 
 MR. gammon's resolve 75 
 
 She says a lot of you has been using her shime- 
 ful," 
 
 " Oh, she does, does she ? " 
 
 " You should hear her talk ! Now it's her land- 
 lady — now it's her awnt — now it's I don't know who. 
 To hear her, she's been used shimeful. She says 
 she's been drove out of the 'ouse. I didn't think it 
 ol you, Mr. Gammon.' " 
 
 At the moment the 'bus was drawing slowly near 
 to a popular wine-shop. Mr. Nibby whispered to 
 Miss Waghorn, who dropped her eyes and looked 
 demure ; whereupon he addressed Gammon. 
 
 " What do you say to a glass of dry sherry, 
 sir ? " 
 
 " Right you are, sir ! " 
 
 So the omnibus was stopped to allow Miss Wag- 
 horn to alight, and all three turned into the wine- 
 shop. Dry sherry not being to Miss Waghorn's 
 taste she chose sweet port, drinking it as one to the 
 manner born, and talking the while in hoarse 
 whispers, with now and then an outburst of shrill 
 laughter. The dark narrow space before the counter, 
 or bar, was divided off with wooden partitions, as at 
 a pawnbroker's ; each compartment had a high stool 
 for the luxuriously inclined, and along the wall ran 
 a bare wooden bench. Not easily could a less invit- 
 ing place of refreshment have been constructed, but 
 no such thought occurred to its frequenters, who 
 at this house were numerous, squeezed together in 
 a stifling atmosphere of gas and alcohol, with noth-
 
 76 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 ing to look at but the row of great barrels whence 
 the wine was drawn, these merry folk quenched their 
 midsummer thirst, and gave their wits a jog, and 
 drank goodfellowship, with merciless ill-usage of the 
 Queen's English, Miss Waghorn talked freely of 
 Polly Sparkes, repeating all the angry things that 
 Polly had said, and persistently wanting to know 
 what the " Bother " was all about. 
 
 " It's for her own good" said Gammon, with sig- 
 nificant brevity. 
 
 He did not choose to say more, or to ask any ques- 
 tions which might turn to Polly's disadvantage. For 
 his own part, he seldom gave a thought to the girl, 
 and was far from imagining that she cared whether 
 he kept on friendly terms with her or not. At his 
 landlady's suggestion, he had joined in the domestic 
 plot for sending Polly " to Coventry " — a phrase, by 
 the by, which would hardly have been understood in 
 Mrs. Bubb's household; he argued that it might do 
 her good, and that in any case some such demonstra- 
 tion was called for by her outrageous temper. If 
 Polly could not get on with people who were 
 sincerely her friends and had always wished her well, 
 let her go elsewhere and exercise her ill-humour on 
 strangers. Gammon did not believe that she would 
 go ; day after day he expected to hear that the 
 quarrel was made up and that Polly had cleared her 
 reputation by a few plain words. 
 
 But this was the last day save one of Polly's week, 
 and as yet she had given no sign. On coming down
 
 MR. gammon's resolve 77 
 
 into the kitchen to discuss his fried eggs and bacon, 
 he saw at once that Mrs. Bubb was seriously per- 
 turbed ; with buffings and cuffings — a most unusual 
 thing — she had just despatched her children to school 
 and was now in conflict with Moggie about a broken 
 pie-dish, which the guilty general had concealed in 
 the backyard. A prudent man in the face of such 
 tempers, Gammon sat down without speaking, and 
 fell to on the viands which Mrs. Bubb, also silent, 
 set before him. In a minute or two having got rid 
 of Moggie, and closed the kitchen door, Mrs. Bubb 
 came near and addressed him with subdued voice : 
 
 " What d'you think ? It's her uncle— it's Clover ! " 
 
 "Eh? What is?" 
 
 " Why, it's him as 'as been giving her things." 
 
 "Has she said so?" asked Gammon, with eager 
 interest. 
 
 " I met her as she was coming down, just now, and 
 she was in a tearin' rage, and she says to me, she 
 says, ' When you see my awnt,' she says, ' you tell 
 her I know all about her 'usband, and that I wouldn't 
 tell her anything not if she went down on her bended 
 knees ! There now ! ' " 
 
 The uneducated man may perchance repeat with 
 exactness something that has been said to him, or in 
 his hearing; for the uneducated woman such 
 accuracy is impossible. Mrs. Bubb meant to be 
 strictly truthful ; but in the nature of things she 
 would have gone astray even had Polly's message 
 taken a much simpler form than wrathful sarcasm
 
 78 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 gave to it. However, she conveyed the spirit of 
 Polly's words and Gammon was so excited by the 
 report that he sprang up, overturning his cup of 
 coffee. 
 
 "Oh, cuss it! Nevermind; most'sgoneon tomy 
 trousers. She said that ? And to think we never 
 thought of it ! Where is she ? When'll she be 
 back?" 
 
 " I don't know. But she says she's going to leave 
 to-morrow, and looks as if she meant it, too. Hadn't 
 I better send to Mrs. Clover? " 
 
 Gammon reflected. 
 
 " I tell you what, send and ask her to come here 
 to-night, say it's very important. We'll have them 
 face to face, by jorrocks, we will ! " 
 
 " Polly mayn't be 'ome before half-past ten or 
 eleven." 
 
 " Never mind. I tell you we'll have them face to 
 face. If it comes to that, I'll pay for a cab for Mrs. 
 Clover to go home in. Tell her to be here at eight. 
 Stop, you mustn't have the trouble ; I can very well 
 go round myself. Yes, I'll go myself, and arrange 
 it. 
 
 " It may be a lie," remarked Mrs. Bubb. 
 
 " So it may be — but somehow I don't think so. 
 The rummiest thing that ever came into my head ! 
 I shouldn't be a bit surprised if Clover ain't living in 
 Belgrave Square, or some such place. Just the kind 
 of thing that happens with these mysterious John- 
 nies. She'll have come across him somewhere, and
 
 MR. gammon's resolve 79 
 
 he's bribed her to keep it dark — see ? What a goose- 
 berry I was never to think of it ! We'll have 'em 
 face to face ! " 
 
 " Suppose Polly won't ? " 
 
 "Won't? Gosh! but she shall\ If I have to 
 carry her downstairs she shall ! Think we're going 
 toilet her keep a thing like this to herself? You 
 just wait and see. Leave it to me, that's all. Lucky 
 there's only friends in the house. Polly likes a row, 
 and, by jorrocks, she shall have one ! "
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 Polly's defiance 
 
 Content with her four lodgers, Mrs. Bubb re- 
 served the rooms on the ground floor for her own use. 
 In that at the back she slept with the two younger 
 children ; the other two had a little bed in the front 
 room, which, during the daytime, served as a par- 
 lour. On occasions of ceremony, when the parlour 
 was needed in the evening, the children slept in a 
 bare attic next to that occupied by Moggie ; and 
 this they looked upon as a treat, for it removed 
 them from their mother's observation, and gave op- 
 portunities for all sorts of adventurous pranks. 
 
 Thus were things arranged for to-night. Mrs. 
 Bubb swept and garnished her parlour, for the be- 
 coming reception of a visitor whom she could not 
 but "look up to." Mrs. Clover's origin was as 
 humble as her own, and her education not much 
 better ; but natural gifts and worldly circumstances 
 had set a distance between them. Partly, perhaps, 
 because she was the widow of a police constable, 
 Mrs. Bubb gave all due weight to social distinctions ; 
 
 she knew her " place " ; and was incapable of pre- 
 80
 
 POLLY'S DEFIANCE 8l 
 
 suming. With Polly Sparkes she did not hesitate 
 to use freedom ; for Polly could not pretend to be 
 on a social level with her aunt, and, as a young girl 
 of unformed character, naturally owed deference to 
 an experienced matron who took a kindly interest 
 in her. 
 
 There had been some question of inviting Mr. 
 Sparkes, but Mr. Gammon spoke against it. No ; 
 let Polly have a fair chance, first of all, of unbosom- 
 ing herself before her aunt and her landlady. If 
 she refused to do so, why then other steps must be 
 taken. 
 
 Gammon passed the day in high spirits, which, 
 with the aid of seasonable beverages, tended to hi- 
 larious excitement. The thing was going to be as 
 good as a play. In his short dialogue with Mrs. 
 Clover, he withheld from her the moving facts of the 
 case, telling her only that her niece was going to 
 quit Mrs. Bubb's and that it behoved her to assist in 
 a final appeal to the girl's better feelings. His own 
 part in the affair was merely, he explained, that of 
 a messenger, sent to urge the invitation. Mrs. Clover 
 willingly consented to come. Not a word passed 
 between them with reference to their last conversa- 
 tion, but Mr. Gammon made it plain that he nursed 
 no resentment, and the lady of the china-shop be- 
 haved very amicably indeed. 
 
 At six o'clock, Polly came home to dress for the 
 theatre. She left again, having spoken to no one. 
 Soon afterwards, Gammon, who in fact had watched 
 6
 
 82 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 for her departure, entered the house and held a 
 conversation with Mrs. Bubb in the parlour, where 
 already the table was laid for supper at half-past 
 eight. Scarcely had eight struck, when Mrs. Clover, 
 who had alighted from an omnibus, sounded her 
 pleasant rat-tat — self-respecting, and such as did 
 credit to the house, but with no suggestion of arrog- 
 ance. As her habit was, she kissed Mrs. Bubb ; a 
 very kindly and gracious thing to do. She asked after 
 the children, and was sorry -she could not see them. 
 In her attire, Mrs. Clover preserved the same happy 
 medium as in her way of plying the knocker ; it was 
 sufficiently elaborate to show consideration for her 
 hostess, yet not so grand as to overwhelm by con- 
 trast. She looked, indeed, so pleasant, and so fresh, 
 and so young, that it was as difficult to remember 
 the troubles of her life as it was to bear in mind that 
 she had a daughter seventeen years of age. Mr. 
 Gammon, who made up a trio at the supper-table, 
 put on his best behaviour. It might perhaps have 
 been suspected that he had quenched his thirst 
 more often than was needful on a day of showers and 
 falling temperature, but at supper he drank only two 
 glasses of mild ale, and casually remarked, as he 
 poured out the second, that he had serious thoughts 
 of becoming a total abstainer. 
 
 " You might do worse than that," said Mrs. Clover 
 meaningly but with good-nature. 
 
 " You think so ? Say the word, Mrs. Clover, and 
 ril do it."
 
 folly's defiance 83 
 
 " I sha'n't say the word, because I know you 
 couldn't live without a glass of beer. There's no 
 harm in that. But wh°n — " 
 
 The remark was left incomplete. 
 
 " Hush ! " came from Mrs. Bubb, in the same 
 moment. " Wasn't that the front door ? " 
 
 All listened. A heavy step was ascending the 
 stairs. 
 
 " Only Mr. Cheeseman," said the landlady, with a 
 sigh of agitation. " Of course it couldn't be Polly 
 yet." 
 
 Not till the repast was comfortably despatched did 
 Mr. Gammon give a sign that it might now be well 
 to inform Mrs. Clover of what had happened. He 
 nodded gravely to Mrs. Bubb, who, with unaffected 
 nervousness, causing her to ramble and stumble for 
 many minutes in mazes of circumlocution, at length 
 conveyed the fact to her anxious listener that Polly 
 Sparkes had said something or other which implied 
 a knowledge of Mr. Clover's whereabouts. Com- 
 mitted to this central fact, and urged by Mrs. 
 Clover's growing impatience, the good woman came 
 out at length with her latest version of Polly's 
 remarkable utterance. 
 
 " And what she said was this, Mrs. Clover, ' When 
 next you goes tale-telling to my awnt,' she says, — 
 just as nasty as she could — ' when next you goes 
 making trouble with my awnt Louisa,' she says, ' you 
 can tell her,' she says, ' that there's nobody but me 
 knows where her 'usband is, and what he's a-doin'
 
 84 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 of ; but I wouldn't let her know,' she says, * not if it 
 was to save her from death and burial in the work'us ! * 
 — That's what Polly said to xne this very morning, 
 and the words made that impression on my mind 
 that I shall never forget them to the last day of my 
 life." 
 
 " Did you ever ! " exclaimed, or rather murmured, 
 Mrs. Clover ; for she was astonished and agitated. 
 Her face lost its wholesome tone for a moment ; her 
 hands moved as if to repel something ; and at length 
 she sat quite still, gazing at Mrs. Bubb. 
 
 " And don't you think it queer," put in Mr. Gam- 
 mon, "that we never hit on that? " 
 
 " I'm sure I should never have thought of such a 
 thing," replied Mrs. Clover, heavily, despondently. 
 
 " And who knows," cried Mrs. Bubb, " whether it's 
 true after all ? Polly's been that nasty, how if she's 
 made it up, just to spite us?" 
 
 Mrs. Clover nodded and seemed to find relief. 
 
 " I shouldn't a bit wonder. How should Polly 
 know about him. It seems to me a most unlikely 
 thing — the most unlikely thing I ever heard of. I 
 shall never believe it, till she's proved her words. I 
 won't believe it — I can't believe it — never ! " 
 
 Her voice rose on tremulous notes ; her eyes wan- 
 dered disdainfully. She looked at Gammon, and 
 immediately looked away again. He, as though in 
 answer to an appeal, spoke with decision. 
 
 " What we're here for, Mrs. Clover, is to put 
 Polly face to face with you and so get the truth out
 
 Polly's defiance 85 
 
 of her. That we will do, cost what it may. We're 
 not going to have that girl make trouble and disturb- 
 ance just to please herself. I don't want to poke 
 myself into other people's business, and I'm sure 
 you won't think I do — " 
 
 " Of course not, Mr. Gammon. 'Tain't likely I 
 should think so of you." 
 
 " You know me better. I was just going to say 
 that I'm a man of business and perhaps I can help 
 to clear up this job in a business-like way. That's 
 what I'm here for. If I didn't think I could be of 
 some use to you, I should make myself scarce. 
 What I propose is this, Mrs. Glover. When Polly 
 comes in — never mind how late it is ; I'll see you safe 
 'ome — let her get up-stairs ; just as usual. Then you 
 go up to her door and you knock and you just say : 
 — " Polly, it's me, and I want a word with you ; let 
 me come in, please ? " If she lets you in ; all right ; 
 have a talk, and see what comes of it. If she won't 
 let you in, just come down again, and let us know; 
 and then we'll think what's to be done next." 
 
 This suggestion was approved, and time went on 
 as the three discussed the mystery from every point 
 of view. At about ten o'clock, Mrs. Bubb's ear 
 caught the sound of a latch-key at the front door. 
 She started up, her companions did the same. By 
 opening the door of the parlour an inch or two, it was 
 ascertained that a person had entered the house and 
 gone quickly up-stairs. This could only be Polly, 
 for Mr. and Mrs. Cheeseman were together in their
 
 86 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 sitting-room above, their voices audible from time 
 to time. 
 
 " Now then, Mrs. Clover," said Gammon, " up you 
 go. Don't be nervous. It's only Polly Sparkes, 
 and she's more call to be afraid of you, than you of 
 her." 
 
 " I should think so, indeed," assented Mrs. Bubb. 
 " Don't give way, my dear. Whativeryou do, don't 
 give way. I'm sure I feel for you. It's fair crool, 
 it is. 
 
 Mrs, Clover said nothing and made a great effort 
 to command herself. Her friends escorted her to 
 the foot of the stairs. Mr. and Mrs. Cheeseman had 
 their door ajar, knowing well what was in progress, 
 for the landlady had not been able to keep her coun- 
 sel at such a dramatic crisis ; but fortunately Mrs. 
 Clover was unaware of this. With light, quick foot 
 she mounted the flights of stairs, and knocked softly 
 at Polly's door. 
 
 " Well ? Who's that ? " sounded in a careless 
 voice. 
 
 " It's me, Polly — your aunt Louisa. Will you 
 let me come in ? " 
 
 " What do you want ? " 
 
 The tone of the inquiry was not encouraging, and 
 Mrs. Clover delayed a moment before she spoke 
 again. 
 
 " I want to speak to you, Polly," she said at 
 length, with firmness. "You know what it's about. 
 — Let me come in, please."
 
 Polly's defiance 87 
 
 ** I've got nothing to say to you about any- 
 thing," answered Polly, in a tone of unmistakable 
 decision. " You're only wasting your time, and the 
 sooner you go 'ome, the better." 
 
 She spoke near to the door, and with her last word 
 sharply turned the key. Only just in time, for Mrs. 
 JZllover was that moment trying the handle ; when 
 she heard the excluding snap, natural feeling so much 
 prevailed with her that she gave the door a shake. 
 Whereat her niece laughed. 
 
 " You're a bad — wicked — deceitful girl ! " exclaim- 
 ed Mrs. Clover, hotly. " I don't believe a word you 
 said — not a word ! You're going to the bad as fast 
 as ever you can — and you know it — and you don't 
 care — and I'm sure I don't care ! Somebody ought 
 to box your ears soundly. Miss. I wouldn't have 
 such a temper as yours not for untold money. And 
 when you want a friend, and haven't a penny in the 
 world, don't come to me, because I won't look at 
 you, and won't own you. And remember, that, 
 Miss!" 
 
 Again Polly laughed, this time in high notes of 
 wrathful derision. Before the sound had died away, 
 Mrs. Clover was at the foot of the staircase, where 
 Gammon and Mrs. Bubb awaited her. 
 
 " It's all a make up," she declared vehemently. 
 " I won't believe a word of it. She's made fools of 
 us — the nasty, ill-natured thing ! " 
 
 Trembling with excitement, she was obliged to sit 
 down in the parlour, whilst Mrs. Bubb hovered about
 
 88 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 her with indignant consolation. Gammon, silent as 
 yet, stood looking on. As he watched Mrs. Clover's 
 countenance, his own underwent a change ; there 
 was a ruffling of the brows, a working of the lips, 
 and in his good-humoured blue eyes a twinkling of 
 half-amused, half-angry determination. 
 
 " Look here," he began, thrusting his hands into 
 his side pockets. " You've come all this way, Mrs. 
 Clover, to see Polly, and see her you shall." 
 
 " I don't want to, Mr. Gammon ! I couldn't — " 
 
 " Now steady a bit — quiet — don't lose your head. 
 Whether you want to see her or not, I want you to, 
 and what's more you shall see her. If Polly's try- 
 ing to make fools of us, she sha'n't have all the fun. 
 If she's telling the truth, she shall have a fair chance 
 of proving it ; if she's lying we'll have a jolly good 
 try to make her jolly well ashamed of herself. See 
 here, Mrs. Bubb ; will you do as I ask you ? " 
 
 "And what's that, Mr. Gammon?" asked the 
 landlady, eager to show her spirit. 
 
 " You go up to Polly's room, and you say this : 
 ' Miss Sparkes,' you say, ' you've got to come down- 
 stairs and see your aunt. If you'll come quiet, well 
 and good. If you won't, I've just got to tell you 
 that the lock on your door is easy forced, and ex- 
 pense sha'n't stand in the way.' Now you just go 
 and say that." 
 
 Mrs. Bubb and Mrs. Clover exchanged glances. 
 Both were plainly impressed by this masculine 
 suggestion, but they hesitated.
 
 POLLY'S DEFIANCE 89 
 
 " I don't want to make an upset in the house," 
 said Mrs. Clover. " There isn't a word of truth in 
 what she said, I feel sure of that, and it's no use — " 
 
 " If you ask me," Gammon interposed, " I'm not 
 at all sure about that. It seems to me just as likely 
 as not that she has come across Mr. Clover — just as 
 likely as not ! " 
 
 ' Angry agitation took hold again of Polly's aunt, 
 who was very easily swayed by an opinion from Mr. 
 Gammon. The landlady, too, gave willing ear to 
 his words. 
 
 " Do you mean," she asked, " that we should 
 really break the door open ? " 
 
 "I do ; and what's more, I'll pay the damage. 
 Go up, Mrs. Bubb, and just say what I told you, 
 and let's see how she takes it." 
 
 Mrs. Clover began a faint objection, but Mrs. 
 Bubb did not heed it. Her face set in the joy of 
 battle, she turned from the room and ran up-stairs.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE STORMING OF THE FORT 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Cheeseman, squeezed together at 
 their partly open door, were following the course of 
 events with a delighted eagerness which threatened 
 to break all bounds of discretion. Their grinning 
 faces signalled to Mrs. Bubb as she went by, and 
 she, no less animated, waved a hand to them, as if 
 promising richer entertainment. The next minute 
 she was heard parleying with Miss Sparkes. Polly 
 received her, as was to be expected, with acrimoni- 
 ous defiance. 
 
 " Oh, it's you, is it, Mrs. Bubb! Go and clean up 
 your dirty kitchen. It'll take you all your time," 
 
 There needed but this to fire the landlady to ex- 
 tremities. Her answer rang through the house. 
 Dirty kitchen, indeed ! And how many meals had 
 Miss Sparkes eaten there at cost price — aye, often 
 for nothing at all ? And who was it as made most 
 dirt — coming in at all hours of the day and night from 
 running about the streets ? 
 
 " Very well, my lady ! Are you going to turn 
 
 that key or not ? That's all I want to know." 
 90
 
 THE STORMING OF THE FORT 91 
 
 " I'll have pity on your ignorance," replied Polly, 
 " and tell you more than that. I'm going to bed, 
 and going to try to get to sleep, if there's any chance 
 of it in a 'ouse like this, which might be a 'sylum for 
 inebriates." 
 
 Mrs. Bubb laughed — the strangest laugh ever heard 
 from her respectable lips. Words were needless, and 
 m a few seconds she panted before her friends down- 
 stairs. 
 
 " She says she's a-goin' to bed. Of all the shime- 
 less creatures ! Called me every nime she could 
 turn her tongue to ! And wouldn't open her door 
 not if the 'ouse was burning — do you hear her?" 
 
 Mr. Gammon buttoned his coat from top to 
 bottom, smoothed his moustache and his side 
 whiskers, and had the air of a man who is in readi- 
 ness for stern duty. 
 
 " I want both of you to come up with me," he said 
 quietly. 
 
 Mrs. Clover began to look alarmed, even embar- 
 rassed. 
 
 " But perhaps she's really going to bed — " 
 
 " All right. She shall have time." He nodded, 
 laughing. " I want both of you to come up to see 
 fair play." 
 
 " But, Mr. Gammon, I shouldn't like—" 
 
 "Mrs. Clover, you've come here to see Polly — and 
 you've a right to see Polly — and by jorrocks, you 
 shall see Polly ! Follow me up-stairs. I've said all 
 that need be said ; now to business."
 
 92 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 They ascended ; Gammon three steps at a stride, 
 the others in a hurry and a flutter. Light streamed 
 from the Cheesemans' room ; the first-floor lodgers, 
 incapable any longer of self-restraint, were out on 
 the landing. On the next floor it was dark, but Mr. 
 Gammon saw a gleam along the bottom of Polly's 
 door. He knocked — the knock of a policeman 
 armed with a warrant. 
 
 " Miss Sparkes ! " 
 
 " Oh, it's you this time, is it? Come just to say 
 good-night ? You needn't have put yourself out. 
 
 " Miss Sparkes — are you in your proper dress?" 
 
 " What d'you mean ? " Polly answered resentfully, 
 " You've been drinking again, I suppose." 
 
 " Not at all, my dear. I asked you for a good 
 and sufficient reason. I'm going to break your door 
 open, that's all, and I wish to give you fair warning. 
 Are you dressed or not?" 
 
 " Impudent wretch ! What are you doing here? 
 What business is it of yours ? " 
 
 " I'm the only strong man handy, that's all. Paid 
 for the job, being out of work just now." 
 
 Mrs. Bubb tittered, Mrs. Cheeseman, down below, 
 choked audibly. " Will you answer that question 
 or not? — Very good ; I give you till I've counted 
 fifty, slow. When I say fifty, bang goes the bloom- 
 in' door." 
 
 Amid an awful silence, enveloped as it were by 
 the dull rumbling of vehicles without, Mr. Gammon's 
 voice began counting. He expected to hear Polly's
 
 THE STORMING OF THE FORT 93 
 
 key turn in the lock ; so did Mrs. Bubb and Mrs. 
 Clover, But the key moved not. 
 
 "—forty-eight — forty-nine— ///j ! " 
 
 Gammon drew back to give himself impetus, and 
 rushed against the door. With raised foot, he 
 struck it just by the handle, and the house seemed 
 to quiver. A second assault was successful ; with 
 crash and splintering, the lock yielded, the door flew 
 open. At the far side of the room stood Polly, but 
 in no attitude of surrender ; she held a clothes- 
 brush, and as soon as the assailant showed himself, 
 flung it violently at his head. Another missile 
 would have followed, but Gammon was too quick, 
 with a red-Indian yell of victory, he crossed the floor 
 at one b^und, and had Polly in his arms. 
 
 " Look out, ladies ! " he shouted. " See fair 
 play ? ^' 
 
 Mrs. Bubb vented her emotions in "Oh, my!" 
 and " Did you iver ! " with little screams of excite- 
 ment varying on sheer laughter. It avenged her 
 delightfully to see Miss Sparkes gripped by the waist 
 and hoisted for removal. But Mrs. Clover was evi- 
 dently possessed by very different feelings ; drawing 
 back as if in alarm or shame, a glow on each cheek, 
 she uttered an involuntary cry of protest. 
 
 " No — Mr. Gammon ! I can't have that ! " 
 
 It was doubtful whether the champion heard, for 
 he unmistakably had his work set. Tooth and nail, 
 Polly contested every inch of ground. One moment 
 her little fists were pummelling Gammon in the face ;
 
 94 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 the next, she tugged at his hair ; then again she 
 scratched and kicked simultaneously, her voice mean- 
 while screaming insult and menace which must have 
 been audible in the neighbours' houses. 
 
 " Stop ! " entreated Mrs. Clover. " Put her down 
 at once ! " she commanded. " Do you hear me, Mr. 
 Gammon ! " 
 
 Whether he did or not, the bold bagman paid no 
 heed. He had at length a firmer grip of Polly, with 
 one of her arms imprisoned. He neared the head of 
 the stairs, the women falling back before him. 
 
 " Mind what you're up to," he was heard to shout, 
 good-humouredly as ever. " If you trip me, we shall 
 both break our blessed necks." 
 
 " How dare you ! " shrieked the voice of the cap- 
 tive, now growing hoarse. " I'll give you in charge 
 the minute I get downstairs ! Ugly beast ! I'll give 
 you all in charge ! " 
 
 The descent began. But that Polly was slightly 
 made, a man of Gammon's physique would have 
 found it impossible to carry her down the stairs ; as 
 it was, he soon began puffing and groaning. In 
 spite of the risk, Polly still struggled, two stair rail- 
 ings were wrenched away on the first flight. Then 
 appeared Mr. and Mrs. Cheeseman, red and perspir- 
 ing with muffled laughter. 
 
 " You may laugh, you wretches ! " Polly shrieked. 
 " I'll give you all in charge, see if I don't. You've 
 all took part in an assault — see what you'll get 
 for it ! "
 
 THE STORMING OF THE FORT 95 
 
 After that, she no longer resisted, except for an 
 occasional kick on her bearer's shins. They reached 
 the ground floor, they tottered into the parlour; 
 close upon them followed Mrs, Bubband Mrs. Clover. 
 Set upon her feet, Polly seemed for a moment about 
 to rush to the window, a second thought led her to 
 the mirror over the mantelpiece, where, fiercely eye- 
 ing the reflected group behind her, she made shift to 
 smooth her hair and arrange her dress. Gammon 
 had sunk upon a chair and was mopping his forehead. 
 He had suffered far more than Polly in the en- 
 counter, and looked indeed with wild hair, scratched 
 face, burst collar, loose necktie, a startling object. 
 
 '* Now then ! " the girl moved towards him, fists 
 clenched as if to renew hostilities. " What d'you 
 mean by this? Just you tell me what you mean 
 by it." 
 
 " As soon as I can get breath, my dear — I meant 
 to bring you down — to speak to your aunt — and I've 
 done it — see?" 
 
 " I'm ashamed of you, Mr. Gammon," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Clover severely. *' I never thought you would 
 go so far as this." 
 
 "Ashamed of him, are you?" shrieked the girl, 
 turning furiously upon her relative. " Be ashamed 
 of yourself ! What do you call yourself, eh ? A re- 
 spectable woman ? And you look on while your own 
 niece is treated in this way ! Why, a costermonger's 
 wife wouldn't disgrace herself so — no wonder your 
 'usband run away from you ! "
 
 96 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 " Oh, this low, vulgar, horrid girl ! " cried her aunt, 
 in a revulsion of feeling. " How she can be any rela- 
 tive of mine, I'm sure /don't know." 
 
 " Ugh ! you nasty, ungrateful young woman you ! " 
 chimed in Mrs. Bubb. " To speak to your kind aunt 
 like that — as has been taking your part when I'm 
 sure I wouldn't 'a' done ! I'd like to see you put on 
 bread and water till you owned up whether you've 
 told lies or not." 
 
 Mrs. Clover was moved to the point of shedding 
 tears, though her handkerchief soon stopped the 
 flow. 
 
 " Polly," she said, raising her voice above the 
 hubbub, " you've treated me that bad there's no 
 words for it. But I can't believe you'll let me go 
 away like this, without knowing whether you've 
 really seen Mr. Clover or not. Just tell me, do." 
 
 " Oh, it's just tell you, is it ? After you've had me 
 knocked about, and insulted by a dirty rough like 
 that Gammon — " 
 
 " You've heard me say I never thought he meant 
 to behave so. I wouldn't have had it for any- 
 thing." 
 
 Whilst Mrs. Clover was speaking. Gammon beck- 
 oned to the landlady, and together they retreated 
 from the room, closing the door behind them. On 
 the stairs stood Mr. and Mrs. Cheeseman, eager for 
 the latest news of the fray ; at their invitation Mrs. 
 Bubb and the hero of the evening stepped up, and 
 for a quarter of an hour Mrs. Clover was left alone
 
 THE STORMING OF THE FORT 97 
 
 with her niece. Then the landlady's attention was 
 called by a voice from below. 
 
 " I must be going, Mrs. Bubb, I'll say good-night." 
 
 Quickly Mrs. Bubb descended ; she saw at a glance 
 that Polly's wrath had in no degree diminished, and 
 that Mrs. Clover was no whit easier in mind ; but 
 both had become silent. Merely saying that she 
 would see her hostess again before long, the lady of 
 the china shop took a hurried leave and quitted the 
 house. 
 
 She had walked but a few yards, when Mr. Gam- 
 mon's voice sounded at her shoulder. 
 
 " I'll see you part of the way home," he said 
 genially. 
 
 " I'm much obliged to you, Mr. Gammon," was 
 Mrs. Clover's reply, " but I can find my own way." 
 
 " You'll let me see you into a 'bus, at all events." 
 
 "Please don't trouble — I'd much rather you 
 didn't." 
 
 *' Why ? " asked Gammon bluntly. 
 
 " Because I had. I'll say good-night." 
 
 She stood still, looking him in the face with cold 
 displeasure ; only for a moment though, as her eyes 
 could not bear the honest look in his. 
 
 " Right you are," said Gammon, with affected 
 carelessness. " Just as you like. I won't force my 
 company on any one." 
 
 Mrs. Clover made the movement which in women 
 of her breeding signifies a formal bow — hopelessly 
 awkward, rigid and self-conscious — and walked 
 7
 
 98 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 rapidly away. The man, not a little crestfallen, 
 swung round on his heel. 
 
 " What's wrong now ? " he asked himself. " It 
 can't be about Minnie, for she was all right till after 
 supper. And why it should make her angry be- 
 cause I lugged that cat, Polly, down-stairs is more 
 than I can understand. Well I sha'n't die of it." 
 
 On re-entering the house, he found all quiet. 
 Polly had returned to her chamber. Mrs. Bubbwas 
 in the Cheesemans' room. He went down into the 
 kitchen where the gas was burning, and sat till the 
 landlady came down. 
 
 " I don't see as you did much good," was Mrs. 
 Bubb's first remark, in the tone which signifies re- 
 action after excitement. " It weren't worth break- 
 ing a door in, it seems to me." 
 
 Gammon hung his head. 
 
 "Didn't Polly tell her anything?" 
 
 " She stuck out she knew where the 'usband was, 
 and that's all." 
 
 " How do you know ? " 
 
 " Polly said so as she went up-stairs — and 'oped 
 her awnt 'ud sleep well on it." 
 
 "H'm! I suppose that's why I couldn't get a 
 word out of Mrs. Clover. — Have the door mended, 
 Mrs. Bubb, and charge me with it. Got anything 
 to drink handy ? " 
 
 " That I 'aven't, Mr. Gammon — except water." 
 
 Gammon looked at his watch. 
 
 " Why it's only just half-past eleven. Hanged if
 
 THE STORMING OF THE FORT 99 
 
 I didn't think it was past midnight ! I must go 
 round and get a drop of something." 
 
 When he came back from quenching his thirst 
 the house was in darkness. He strode the familiar 
 ascent and by Polly's door (barricaded inside with 
 the chest of drawers) hummed a mirthful strain. 
 As he jumped into bed, the events of the evening 
 all at once struck him in such a comical light that 
 he uttered a great guffaw ; and for the next ten 
 minutes he lay under the bed-clothes shaking with 
 laughter.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE NOSE OF THE TREFOYLES 
 
 At noon next day a cab drove up to Mrs. Bubb's 
 house ; from it alighted Miss Sparkes, who, with 
 the help of the cabman, brought down-stairs a tin 
 box, a wooden box, two band-boxes, and three news- 
 paper bundles. With no one did she exchange 
 a word of farewell : the Cheesemans were out, the 
 landlady and Moggie kept below stairs. So Polly 
 turned her back upon Kennington Road, and shook 
 the dust thereof from her feet for ever. 
 
 Willingly she had accepted a proposal that she 
 should share the room of her friend Miss Waghorn, 
 who was to be married in a month's time (to Mr. 
 Nibby) and did not mind a little inconvenience. 
 The room was on the third floor of a house at the 
 north end of Shaftesbury Avenue ; it measured 
 twelve feet by fourteen ; when Polly's bandboxes 
 had been thrust under the bed, and her larger lug- 
 gage built up in a corner, there was nice standing 
 room both for her and Miss Waghorn. The house 
 contained ten rooms in all, and its population (in- 
 cluding seven children) amounted to twenty-three. 
 
 I GO
 
 THE NOSE OF THE TREFOYLES lOI 
 
 In this warm weather the atmosphere within doors 
 might occasionally be a trifle close, but Shaftesbury 
 Avenue is a fine broad street, and has great advan- 
 tages of situation. 
 
 To Mr. Gammon's casual inquiry, Mrs. Bubb re- 
 plied that she neither knew nor cared whither Polly 
 had betaken herself. Himself having no great curi- 
 osity in the matter, and being much absorbed in 
 his endeavour to obtain an engagement with the 
 house of Quodling, he let Polly slip from his mind 
 for a few days. Until one morning came a letter 
 from her. Positively and to his vast surprise a 
 letter addressed to him by Miss Sparkes, with her 
 abode fully indicated in the usual place. True, the 
 style of the epistle was informal. 
 
 "You took advantage of me," it began, "because 
 there wasn't a man in the house to take my part, 
 as I don't call that grinning monkey of a Cheeseman 
 a man at all. If you like to call where I am now, I 
 shall have the pleasure of introducing you to 
 somebody that will give you the good hiding you 
 deserve for being a coward and a brute, — Miss 
 Sparkes." 
 
 Gammon laughed over this for half an hour. He 
 showed it to Mrs. Bubb, who was again on the old 
 terms with him, and Mrs. Bubb wanted to exhibit 
 it to Mrs. Cheeseman. 
 
 " No, don't do that," he interposed, gently, 
 " We'll keep it between ourselves." 
 
 "Why?"
 
 102 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 " Oh, I don't know. The girl can't help herself, 
 she was born that way, you know." 
 
 " I only hope she won't pay some rough to follow 
 you at night and bash you," said Mrs. Bubb warn- 
 ingly. 
 
 " I don't think that. — No, no ; Polly's bark is 
 worse than her bite, any day." 
 
 On the evening of that day, about ten o'clock, he 
 chanced to be in Oxford Street, and as he turned 
 southward, it occurred to him that he would so far 
 act upon Polly's invitation as to walk down the 
 Avenue, and glance at the house where she lived. 
 He did so, and it surprised him to see that she had 
 taken up her abode in so mean-looking a place. He 
 was not aware, of course, that Miss Waghorn found 
 the quarters good enough for her own more impos- 
 ing charms and not less brilliant wardrobe. Walk- 
 ing on, at Cambridge Circus he came face to face 
 with Miss Sparkes herself, accompanied by Miss 
 Waghorn. To his hat salute and amiable smile, 
 Polly replied with a fierce averting of the look. 
 Her friend nodded cheerfully, and they passed. 
 Two minutes after, he found Miss Waghorn beside 
 him. 
 
 "Hallo! Left Polly?" 
 
 " I want you to come back with me, Mr. Gam- 
 mon," replied the maiden archly. " I 'ear you've 
 offended Miss Sparkes, I don't know what it is, I'm 
 sure, and I don't ask to be told, 'cause it's none of
 
 THE NOSE OF THE TREFOYLES I03 
 
 my business ; but I want to make you friends again, 
 and I'm sure you'll apologise to her." 
 
 " Eh ? Apologise ? Why, of course I will. Only 
 too delighted." 
 
 "That's nice of you. I always said you was a 
 nice man — ask Polly if I didn't." 
 
 " The same to you, my dear, and many of 'em! 
 Come along." 
 
 As if wholly unaware of what was happening, 
 Polly had proceeded homewards ; not so fast, how- 
 ever, but that the others overtook her with ease 
 before she reached the house. 
 
 "How do you do, Miss Sparkes?" began her 
 enemy, not without diffidence as she turned upon 
 him. " I'm surprised to hear from Miss Waghorn 
 that something I've said or done has riled you — if I 
 may use the expression. I couldn't have meant it, 
 I'm sure, I 'umbly beg pardon." 
 
 Strange to say, by this imperfect expression of 
 regret Miss Sparkes allowed herself to be mollified. 
 Presenting a three-quarter countenance, with a for- 
 bearing smile, she answered in the formula of her 
 class : 
 
 " Oh, I'm sure it's granted." 
 
 " There, now we're all friends again," said Carrie 
 Waghorn. " Miss Sparkes is living with me for the 
 present, Mr. Gammon. There'll be changes before 
 long" — and she looked about her with prudish em- 
 barassment — " but of course we shall be seeing you 
 again. Do you know the address, Mr. Gammon ? "
 
 104 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 She mentioned the number of the house, and 
 carefully repeated it ; whilst Polly turned away as 
 if the conversation did not interest her. Thereupon, 
 Mr. Gammon bade them good-night and went his 
 way, marvelling that Polly Sparkes had all at once 
 become so placable. Was it a stratagem to throw 
 him ofT his guard, and bring him into the clutches 
 of some avenger, one of these nights ? One never 
 knew what went on in the minds of such young 
 women as Polly. 
 
 Next morning he had another surprise ; a letter 
 from his friend Greenacre, inviting him, with many 
 phrases of studious politeness, to dine that day at a 
 great hotel, the hour eight o'clock, and begging him 
 to reply by telegram addressed to the same hotel. 
 This puzzled Gammon, yet less than it could have 
 done at an earlier stage of their acquaintance. He 
 had abandoned the hope of explaining Greenacre's 
 mysterious circumstances, and the attempt to decide 
 whether his stories were worthy of belief or not. 
 Half suspecting that he might be the victim of a 
 hoax, he telegraphed an acceptance, and thought 
 no more of the matter until evening approached. 
 Part of his day was spent in helping a distracted 
 shopkeeper, on the verge of failure, to obtain indul- 
 gence from certain of his creditors, he also secured 
 a place as errand-boy for the son of a poor woman 
 with whom he had lodged until her house was burnt 
 down one Bank holiday ; and he made a trip to 
 Hammersmith, to give evidence at the police court
 
 THE NOSE OF THE TREFOYLES Io5 
 
 for a friend charged with assaulting a policeman. 
 Just before eight o'clock, after a hasty wash and 
 brush-up at a public lavatory, he presented himself 
 at the great hotel, where, from a lounge in the 
 smoking-room, Greenacre rose to welcome him. 
 Greenacre, indubitably, but much better dressed 
 than Gammon had ever seen him, and with an air 
 of lively graciousness which was very impressive. 
 The strange fellow offered not a word of explana- 
 tion, but chatted as though their meeting in such 
 places as this were an everyday occurrence. 
 
 " I have something interesting to tell you," he 
 observed, when they were seated in the brilliant 
 dining-room, with olives, sardines, and the like to 
 toy with before the serious commencement of their 
 meal. " You remember — when was it ? — not long 
 ago asking me about a family named Quodling ? " 
 
 " Of course I do. It was only the other day 
 at — 
 
 *' Ah — just so — yes," interposed Greenacre, suave- 
 ly ignoring the locality. " You know my weak- 
 ness for looking up family histories. I happened to 
 be talking with my friend Beeching yesterday — 
 Aladham Beeching, you know, the Q. C. — and 
 Quodling came into my head ; I mentioned the name. 
 It was as I thought. I had, you know, a vague rec- 
 ollection of Quodling as connected with a lawsuit 
 when I was a boy. Beeching could tell me all 
 about it." 
 
 " Well, what was it ? "
 
 I06 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 *' Queer story. A Mrs. Quodling, a widow, or 
 believed to be a widow, came in for a large sum of 
 money under the will of Lord Polperro — the second 
 baron, uncle, I am told of his present lordship. 
 This will was contested by the family ; a very com- 
 plicated affair, Beeching tells me. Mrs. Quodling, 
 whose character was attacked, declared that she 
 knew Lord Polperro in an honourable way, and that 
 he had taken a great interest in her children, two 
 young boys. Now these boys were produced in 
 court, then it was seen — excellent soup this — that 
 they bore little if any resemblance to each other ; 
 and at the same time it was made evident, by exhi- 
 bition of a portrait, that the younger boy had a face 
 with a strong likeness to the testator ; and many 
 witnesses declared the same. Interesting, isn't 
 it?" 
 
 " For the widow," remarked Gammon. 
 
 " Uncommonly awkward — though she gained her 
 case, for all that. Polperro it seems had a shady 
 reputation ; heavy drinker, and so on. There were 
 strong characteristics ; some peculiarity of the nose. 
 The old chap used to say that there was the nose 
 of the Bourbons and the nose of the Trefoyles — his 
 family name." 
 
 "What name?" 
 
 " Trefoyle. Cornish, you know. Rum lot, they 
 always seem to have been. Barony created by 
 George III, for some personal service; the first 
 Polperro is said to have lived for a year or two as
 
 THE NOSE OF THE TREFOYLES I07 
 
 a gypsy, and at another time as a highwayman. 
 There's a portrait of him, Beeching tells me, in 
 somebody's history of Cornwall ; showing to per- 
 fection the Trefoyle nose." 
 
 " Same as Quodling's, then," exclaimed Gammon. 
 " Quodling the broker ? " 
 
 " Precisely — I would suggest, my dear fellow, that 
 you don't speak quite so loud — Francis Quodling 
 was the boy who so strongly resembled the Lord 
 Polperro of the lawsuit. Nose with high arch and 
 som.ething queer about the nostril." 
 
 "Yes! and hanged if it isn't just the same as — " 
 
 A deprecatory gesture from his friend stopped 
 Gammon on the point of uttering the name 
 ** Clover." Again he had sinned against the pro- 
 prieties by unduly raising his voice, and he sub- 
 sided in confusion. 
 
 "You were going to say?" murmured the host 
 politely. 
 
 " Oh, nothing, there's a man I know has just the 
 same nose, that's all." 
 
 " That's very interesting. And considering the 
 Polperro reputation, it wouldn't surprise me to come 
 across a good many such noses. You remember my 
 favourite speculation. It comes in very well here, 
 doesn't it — Is all this information of any service to 
 you?" 
 
 " Much obliged to you for your trouble. I 
 don't know that I can make any use of it — but yes, 
 it does give a sort of hint."
 
 Io8 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 On reflection, Gammon decided to keep the mat- 
 ter to himself. He had set his mind on discovering 
 Mrs. Clover's husband, and was all the more deter- 
 mined to perform this feat since the recent events 
 in Kennington Road. Mrs. Clover had treated him 
 unkindly ; he would prove to her that this had no 
 effect upon his zeal in her service. Polly Sparkes 
 was making fun of him, and the laugh should yet be 
 on his side. Greenacre, with his mysterious con- 
 nections, might be of use, but must not be allowed 
 to run away with the credit of the discovery. As 
 for these stories about Lord Polperro, it might turn 
 out that Clover was illegitimately related to the 
 noble family — no subject for boasting, though pos- 
 sibly an explanation of his strange life. If Polly 
 were really in communication with him — Ho, ho, 
 Very good ! Ha, ha ! 
 
 " What now ? " asked Greenacre. 
 
 "Nothing! Queer fancy I had." 
 
 After dinner, they smoked together for an hour, 
 the host talking incessantly, and for the most part 
 in a vein of reminiscence. To hear him, one would 
 have supposed that he had always lived in the 
 society of distinguished people, never a word refer- 
 ring to the poverty or mean employment, fell from 
 his lips. 
 
 " Poor Bolsover ! " he remarked. " Did I tell you 
 that I had a very kind letter from his widow ? " 
 
 " I haven't seen you since — " 
 
 " Ah, no, to be sure. I wrote, or rather, I left a
 
 THE NOSE OF THE TREFOYLES lOQ 
 
 card at the town house. Charming letter in reply. 
 The poor lady is still quite young. She was a 
 Thompson of Derbyshire. I never knew the family 
 at all well." 
 
 Gammon mused, and it occurred to him, in his 
 knowledge of the world, that Greenacre's connection 
 with the house of Bolsover might be that of a beg- 
 ging-letter writer. There might have been some 
 slight acquaintance, in years gone by, between this 
 strange fellow and young Lord Bolsover, subse- 
 quently made a source of profit. Perchance Green- 
 acre's prosperity at this moment resulted from a 
 skilful appeal to the widowed lady. 
 
 Inclined to facetiousness by a blend of choice 
 beverages, Gammon could not resist a joke at the 
 moment when he took leave. 
 
 "Been out with the Saponaria van to-day?" he 
 inquired, innocently. 
 
 Greenacre looked steadily at him, with eyes of 
 gentle reproach. 
 
 ** I'm afraid I don't understand that allusion," he 
 replied, gravely. " Is it a current jest ? I am not 
 much in the way of hearing that kind of thing. By 
 the by, let me know if I can help you in any more 
 genealogies." 
 
 " I will. So long, old man ! " 
 
 And with a wink — an undeniable wink, an auda- 
 cious wink — Mr. Gammon sallied from the hotel. 
 
 Before going to bed, he wrote a letter ; a letter 
 to Miss Sparkes. Would she see him the day after
 
 no THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 to-morrow, Sunday, if he strolled along Shaftesbury 
 Avenue at lo A.M. ? It would greatly delight him, 
 and perhaps she might be persuaded to take a little 
 jaunt to Dulwich and look at his bow-wows.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 POLLY CONDESCENDS 
 
 There was time enough for Polly to reply to this 
 invitation, but reply she did not. None the less, 
 Gammon was walking about near her lodgings at 
 ten o'clock on Sunday morning. It seemed to him 
 that he once or twice perceived a face at an upper 
 window, but at a quarter-past the hour Miss Sparkes 
 had not come forth. He was on the point of going 
 boldly to the door, when a recognisable figure ap- 
 proached, that of Mr. Nibby. The men hailed each 
 other. 
 
 " Waiting for somebody ? " inquired the repre- 
 sentative of the Gillingwater burner, a twinkle in 
 his eye. 
 
 To obviate the risk of complications. Gammon 
 avowed that he was looking out for Miss Sparkes, 
 with whom he wanted a word on private busi- 
 ness. 
 
 " First-rate ! " exclaimed Mr. Nibby. " She's 
 
 coming along with Miss Waghorn and me to my 
 
 brother's at 'Endon — the Blue Anchor, do you know 
 
 it? Nice little property. You'll have to join us ; 
 
 III
 
 112 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 first-rate. I'm only afraid it may rine. Do you 
 think it will rine ? " 
 
 " May or may not," replied Gammon, staring at 
 the clouds and thinking over the situation as it con- 
 cerned himself. " If it's going to rine, it will, you 
 you know." 
 
 " That's true. I'll just let 'em know I'm here." 
 
 But at this moment the two young ladies came 
 forth, blushing and resplendent. Hats were doffed, 
 and hands were shaken, 
 
 " Why, is that you, Mr. Gammon?" cried Carrie 
 Waghorn, when the ceremony was over, as if only 
 just aware of his presence. " Well, this is a surprise 
 —isn't it, Polly ! " 
 
 Miss Sparkes seemed barely to recognise Mr. 
 Gammon, but of necessity she took a place by his 
 side and walked on with a rhythmic tossing of the 
 head — which had a new adornment, a cluster of 
 great blue flowers, unknown to the botanist, in the 
 place of her everyday poppies. 
 
 "If you don't want me," remarked Gammon, 
 glancing at her, "you've only to say so, and I'm 
 off!" 
 
 Polly looked up at the sky, and answered with a 
 question. 
 
 " Do you think it's going to rine ? " 
 
 " Shouldn't wonder." 
 
 " Well, you are polite." 
 
 " What's the rine got to do with politeness? I 
 say ; why didn't you answer my letter ? "
 
 POLLY CONDESCENDS. II3 
 
 " I pay no attention to impertinence," replied Miss 
 Sparkes haughtily. 
 
 " Oh, that's it ? Never mind ; we shall get on 
 better presently. I say, Polly, do you see you've 
 left marks on my face ? " 
 
 Polly set her lips, and kept a severe silence. 
 
 " I don't mind 'em," Gammon continued. " Ra- 
 ther proud of 'em. If anybody asks me how I got 
 the scratches — " 
 
 The girl looked sharply at him. 
 
 " Do you mean to say you'd tell ? Well, if you 
 call that gentlemanly — ! " 
 
 " Wouldn't tell the truth, Polly, not for as many 
 kisses as there are scratches, my dear." 
 
 Polly bridled — young women of her class still 
 bridle — but looked rather pleased. And Gammon 
 chuckled to himself, thinking that all went well. 
 
 The rain came, but for all that they had a day of 
 enjoyment, spent chiefly in an arbour, not quite rain 
 proof, on the skittle ground behind the Blue Anchor 
 at Hendon. Continuous was the popping of corks, 
 frequent were the outbursts of hilarity. Polly did 
 not abandon her reserve with Mr. Gammon, now 
 and then she condescended to smile at his sallies of 
 wit, whereas she screamed at a joke from others. 
 The landlord of the Blue Anchor was a widower of 
 about thirty, and had some claims to be considered 
 a lady's man ; to him Polly directed her friendly 
 looks and remarks, with a freedom which could not 
 but excite attention. 
 8
 
 114 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 " Is that the fellow that's going to give me a 
 thrashing?" Gammon asked of her, at length in 
 an aside. 
 
 " Don't be a silly ! " she answered, turning her 
 back. 
 
 " Because, if so, I'd better get the start of him. 
 There's a convenient bit of ground here." 
 
 He spoke with such seeming seriousness that 
 Polly showed alarm. 
 
 *' Don't be a silly, Mr. Gammon. If you misbe- 
 have yourself, I'll never speak to you again." 
 
 " Well, what I want to know is, am I to be on 
 guard ? Am I to mind my eye, whenever I'm near 
 you?" 
 
 He spoke as if with a real desire to be relieved 
 from apprehension. At this moment, their com- 
 panions had drawn apart, and they could converse 
 unheard. 
 
 " You know very well what you deserve," replied 
 Polly, looking askance at him. " And if such a 
 thing ever was to happen again — well, you'd see, 
 that's all." 
 
 Therewith the peace, or at all events the truce 
 was concluded, and Miss Sparkes allowed herself to 
 meet Mr. Gammon's advances with frankness and 
 appreciation. The fact that he did unmistakably 
 make advances secretly surprised her ; but not more 
 than Gammon was surprised to find himself coming 
 into favour. 
 
 A few days later, the opportunity for which he
 
 POLLY CONDESCENDS Il5 
 
 waited came to pass, and he was invited to an inter- 
 view with Quodling and Son ; that is to say, with a 
 person who was neither Quodling nor Quodling's 
 Son, but held a position of authority at their place 
 of business in Norton Folgate. Whenever the 
 chance was given him of applying personally for 
 any post that he desired, Mr. Gammon felt a reason- 
 able assurance of success. Honesty was written 
 broadly upon his visage; capability declared itself 
 in his speech ; he could win the liking and confi- 
 dence of any ordinary man of business in ten min- 
 utes. It happened, fortunately, that the firm of 
 Quodling needed just such a representative. As 
 Gammon knew, they had been unlucky in their 
 town traveller of late, and they looked just now 
 more to the "address," the personal qualities, of an 
 applicant for the position, than to his actual acquaint- 
 ance with their business, which was greatly a mat- 
 ter of routine. Mr. Gammon was accepted on 
 trial, and in a day or two began his urban travels. 
 
 Particular about the horses he drove. Gammon 
 saw with pleasure the young dark-bay cob, stylishly 
 harnessed, which pawed delicately as he mounted 
 the neat little trap put at his disposal. It is the 
 blessedness of a mind and temper such as his that 
 the things which charm at the beginning of life con- 
 tinue to give pleasure, scarce abated, as long as the 
 natural force remains. At forty years of age. Gam- 
 mon set off about his business with all the zest of a 
 healthy boy. The knowledge he had gained, all
 
 Il6 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 practical, and, so to speak, for external application, 
 could never become the burden of the philosopher ; 
 if he had any wisdom at all it consisted in the lack 
 of self-consciousness, the animal acceptance of 
 whatever good the hour might bring. He and his 
 bay cob were very much on the same footing; 
 granted but a method of communication and they 
 would have understood each other. Even so with 
 his bow-wows, as he called them. He rose superior 
 to horse and dog mainly in that one matter of de- 
 sire for a certain kind of female companionship ; 
 and this strain of idealism, naturally enough, was 
 the cause of almost the only discontent he ever 
 knew. 
 
 Joyously he rattled about the highways and by- 
 ways of greater London. The position he had 
 now obtained was to become a " permanency " ; to 
 Quodling and Son he could attach himself, making 
 his services indispensable. One of these days — not 
 just yet — he would look in at Mrs. Clover's and see 
 whether she still kept in the same resentful mind 
 towards him. It was an odd thing that nowadays 
 he gave more thought to Mrs. Clover than to 
 Minnie. The young girl glimmered very far away, 
 at a height above him ; he had made a mistake and 
 frankly recognised it. But Mrs. Clover, his excel- 
 lent friend of many years, shone with no such supe- 
 riority, and was not above rebuke for any injustice 
 she might do him. Probably by this time she had 
 forgotten her fretfulness, a result of overstrung"
 
 POLLY CONDESCENDS II7 
 
 nerves. She would ask his pardon — and ought to 
 do so. 
 
 He thought of Polly Sparkes, but always with a 
 peculiar smile, inclining to a grimace. Polly had 
 " come round " in the most astonishing way. But 
 she would come round yet more, before he had 
 done with her. His idea was to take Polly to Dul- 
 wich, and show her the bow-wows ; he saw possi- 
 bilities of a quiet meal together at the inn. The 
 difificulty was to reassure her natural tremors, with- 
 out losing the ground he had gained by judicious 
 approaches. 
 
 About the middle of July he prevailed upon her 
 to accept his invitation, and to come alone ; though 
 Polly continued to declare that she hated dogs, and 
 that she had never in her life gone to so remote 
 and rural a spot as Dulwich without a " lady friend " 
 to keep her in countenance. 
 
 " Everything must have a beginning," said Gam- 
 mon merrily. 
 
 " If you let those people know, I'll never speak to 
 you again." 
 
 She referred to Mrs. Bubb and her household, 
 of whom she had never ceased to speak with 
 animus. 
 
 " Honour bright, they shan't hear a whisper of 
 it." 
 
 So on a Sunday morning they made the journey 
 by omnibus, for the sake of the fresh air ; Polly re- 
 marking again and again on her great condescension,
 
 Il8 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 reaffirming her dislike of dogs, and declaring that if 
 a drop of rain fell she would turn about homeward 
 forthwith. None the less did she appear to find 
 pleasure in Mr. Gammon's society. If his gossip 
 included a casual mention of some young lady, a 
 friend of his, she pressed for information concerning 
 that person, and never seemed quite satisfied with 
 what she was told about her. Slyly observant of 
 this, her companion multiplied his sportive allusions, 
 and was amused to find Polly grow waspish. Then 
 again he soothed her with solid flattery ; nothing of 
 the kind too gross for Polly's appetite. And so 
 conversing they shortened the journey to remote 
 Dulwich. 
 
 With gathered skirts and a fear partly real but 
 more affected. Miss Sparkes entered the yard where 
 Gammon's dogs were kept. (As a matter of fact, he 
 shared in their ownership with the landlord of the 
 public house, a skilful breeder.) When puppies gam- 
 bolled about her, she woke the echoes with a scream. 
 From a fine terrier, a '* game " dog whose latest ex- 
 ploit was the killing of a hundred rats in six minutes, 
 she backed trembling, and even put out a hand to 
 Gammon as if for protection. Polly's behaviour, 
 indeed, was such as would have been proper in a fine 
 lady forty years ago ; the fashion having descended 
 to her class, just as fashions in costume are wont to 
 do at a shorter interval. When- Gammon begged 
 her to feel the " feather " of a beautiful collie, she 
 at length did so with great timidity ; and a moment
 
 POLLY CONDESCENDS IIQ 
 
 after, to show how doggy she was becoming, she 
 spoke of the " feather " of a Httle black-and-tan ; 
 whereat Gammon smiled broadly. On the whole 
 they much enjoyed themselves, and had a good 
 appetite at dinner-time. 
 
 The meal was laid for them in a small private 
 reom, which smelt principally of stale tobacco 
 and stale chimney soot. The water-bottle on the 
 table was encrusted with a white enamel advertise- 
 ment of somebody's whisky, and had another such 
 recommendation legible on its base. The tray used 
 by the girl in attendance was enamelled with the 
 name of somebody's brandy. On the walls hung 
 three brightly coloured calendars, each an advertise- 
 ment ; one of sewing machines, one of an insur- 
 ance office, one of a local grocery trade. The other 
 mural adornments were old coloured pictures of 
 race-horses and faded photographs of dogs. A 
 clock on the mantelpiece (not going) showed across 
 its face the name of a firm that dealt in aerated 
 waters. 
 
 Coarse and plentiful were the viands, and Polly 
 did justice to them. She had excellent teeth, a very 
 uncommon thing in girls of her kind ; but Polly's 
 parents were of country origin. With these wea- 
 pons she feared not even the pastry set before her ; 
 which it was just possible to break with an ordinary 
 fork. 
 
 Towards the end, Gammon grew silent and medi- 
 tative. He kept gazing at the windows as if for aid
 
 120 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 in some calculation. When Polly at last threw down 
 her cheese-knife, glowing with the thought that she 
 had dined well at somebody else's expense, he 
 leaned forward on the table, looked her in the eyes, 
 and began a momentous dialogue.
 
 , .' CHAPTER XIII 
 
 GAMMON THE CRAFTY 
 
 " What did you want to do such a silly thing as 
 that for?" 
 
 Polly stared in astonishment. 
 
 " What d'you mean ? " 
 
 " Why did you let out to Mrs. Clover what you 
 knew?" 
 
 The girl's colour deepened by a shade (it was al- 
 ready rich) and her eyes grew alarmed, suspicious, 
 watchful. 
 
 " I didn't let out what I knew," she answered, 
 rather confused. 
 
 It was Gammon's turn to watch keenly. 
 
 " Not all ; of course not," he remarked slyly. 
 " But why couldn't you keep it to yourself that 
 you'd met him ? " 
 
 Polly's eyes wandered. Gammon smiled with 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " I'd have kept that to myself," he said, in a 
 friendly way. " I know how it was, of course ; you 
 got riled, and came out with it. A great pity. She 
 
 121
 
 122 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 had all but forgot him; now she'll never rest till 
 she's found him out. And you might have seen how- 
 much more to your advantage it was to keep a thing 
 like that quiet." 
 
 Unwonted mental disturbance was playing tricks 
 with Polly's complexion. She evidently feared to 
 compromise herself, and at the same time desired 
 to know all that was in her companion's mind. 
 
 «' What business is it of yours ? " was the crude 
 phrase that at length fell from her lips, uttered half- 
 heartedly, between resentment and jesting. 
 
 " Well, there's the point," replied Gammon, with 
 a laugh. " Queer thing, but it just happens to be 
 particular business of mine." 
 
 Polly stared. He nodded. 
 
 " There's such a thing, Polly, as going halves in a 
 secret. I've been wondering these last few days 
 whether I should tell you or not. But we're get- 
 ting on so well together— eh ? Better than I ex- 
 pected, for one. I shouldn't feel I was doing right, 
 Polly, if I took any advantage of you." 
 
 She was growing excited. Her wiles had given 
 way before superior stratagem, and perhaps before 
 something in herself that played traitor. 
 
 " You mean you know about him ? " she asked, 
 almost confidentially. 
 
 " Not all I want to — yet. He's a sharp customer. 
 But considerably more than you do, Polly, my 
 dear." 
 
 " I don't believe you ! "
 
 GAMMON THE CRAFTY 1 23 
 
 " That has nothing to do with it. Suppose you 
 ask me a question or two. I might be able to tell 
 you something you would like to know." 
 
 It was said of course without any suspicion of the 
 real state of things ; but Gammon saw at once that 
 he had excited an eager curiosity. 
 ' " You know where he is then ? " asked Polly. 
 
 " Well — we'll say so." 
 
 " Where ? When did you see him last ? " 
 
 " We're going too quickly, old girl. The question 
 is, when did you see him last." 
 
 " Ah ! you'd like to know, wouldn't you ? " 
 
 Gammon burst out laughing, ever the surest way 
 of baffling a silly woman. Polly grew hot with 
 anger, then subsided into mortification. She knew 
 the weakness of her position and inclined even more 
 to make an ally of the man who had overcome her 
 in battle and carried her off in his arms. 
 
 "And the other question is," Gammon proceeded, 
 as if enjoying a huge joke. "When did you see 
 him first ? " 
 
 " I suppose you know ? " she murmured reluc- 
 tantly. 
 
 " Let us suppose I do. And suppose I am trying to 
 make up my mind about the best way of dealing 
 with the little affair. As I told you, I wish Mrs. 
 Clover didn't know about it ; but that's your doing. 
 Our friend, Mr. C. wouldn't thank you." 
 
 " He knows, then, does he? " cried Polly. 
 
 " Mr. C. knows a great many things, my dear. He
 
 124 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 was not born yesterday. Now see here, Polly. 
 We're both of us in this, and we'd better be straight 
 with each other. I am no friend of Mr. C, but I am 
 a friend of yours, and if you can help me to get a 
 bit tighter hold of him. — Yes, yes, I'll tell you pres- 
 ently. The question is, whether I can depend upon 
 what he says. Of course I know all about you ; I 
 want to know more about him. Now is it true that 
 you saw him first at the theatre ? " 
 
 Polly nodded, and Gammon congratulated himself 
 on his guess. 
 
 " And — he wasn't alone ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Just what I thought." 
 
 " He says he was alone — eh ? " asked Polly with 
 eagerness. 
 
 " I guess why. Now who was with him, old 
 girl?" 
 
 A moment's sulky hesitation, and Polly threw 
 away all reserve. 
 
 " There was two ladies ; if they were ladies ; at all 
 events they was dressed like it. Oldish, both of 'em. 
 One was a foreigner ; I know that because I heard her 
 speak, and it wasn't English. The other one spoke 
 back to her in the same way, but I heard her speak 
 English too. And she was the one as sat next to 
 him." 
 
 " Good, Polly, we're getting on. And how did 
 you notice him '' " 
 
 " Well, it was like this," she began to narrate with
 
 GAMMON THE CRAFTY 12$ 
 
 vivacity. " I offered him a programme — see ? — and 
 he gave me half a sovereign, and looked up at me, 
 as much as to say, he'd like change. And I'd no 
 sooner met his eyes than I knew him. How could 
 I help? He don't look to have changed a bit. And 
 I saw as he knew me. I saw it by a queer sort of 
 wink he give. And then he looked at me frightened 
 like — didn't he just ! Of course I didn't say nothing, 
 but I kept standing by him a minute or two. And 
 I'd forgot all about the change, till he said to 
 me, with a sort of look : ' You may keep that,' 
 he said, and I says, ' Thank you, sir,' and nearly 
 laughed." 
 
 " Not a bad tip, eh, Polly ? " 
 
 " Oh, I've had as good before," she replied, with 
 a brief return to the old manner. 
 
 " No doubt he enjoyed himself that evening. He 
 kept spying round for you, didn't he ? " 
 
 " I saw him look once or twice, and I give him a 
 look back, but I couldn't do much more just then. 
 I said to myself, I'd keep my eye on him, to see if 
 he came out after the first act. And sure enough he 
 did ; and there was me standing in his way, and he 
 put his hand out to give me something, and just 
 nodded, and went on. It wasn't money, but a bit 
 of paper twisted up and something wrote on it, in 
 pencil. 
 
 " I thought so, and where were you to meet 
 him ? " 
 
 " Well, I knew there couldn't be no harm, him be-
 
 126 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 ing my own uncle." Polly replied with the air of 
 repelling an accusation. 
 
 " Of course not ; who said there was ? " 
 
 " Well, it was Lincoln's Inn Fields, the next night. 
 And there he was, sure enough, with his face half 
 hid, as if he was ashamed of himself, as well he 
 might be. And he begins with saying as he was 
 very ill, and he didn't think he'd live long. But I 
 wasn't to think as he forgot me, and when he died 
 I should find myself provided for. And I wasn't to 
 say a word to nobody, or he'd take my name out of 
 his will at once." 
 
 Gammon laughed. 
 
 " It's all right, Polly. Don't be afraid. All be- 
 tween me and you. But I'll bet he didn't tell you 
 where he was living ? " 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " Of course not, I knew that," said Gammon, with 
 a mysterious air. " Well, go on. He met you again, 
 didn't he ? " 
 
 " Once more, only once." 
 
 " Yes ; and gave you little presents, and told you 
 to be a good gyurl, and never disgrace your uncle. 
 Oh, I know him ! But he took precious good care 
 not to let you know where he lived." 
 
 " But you know? " she exclaimed. 
 
 " No fear, Polly. You shall too, if you have pa- 
 tience ; though I don't say it'll be just yet." 
 
 A few more questions, and the girl had told 
 everything; ; Mr. Clover's failure to keep the thircj
 
 GAMMON THE CRAFTY I27 
 
 appointment, and her fruitless watchings since 
 then, 
 
 " He got a bit timid, Polly, you see," exclaimed 
 Gammon. "And he was right too, you couldn't 
 keep it to yourself, you see. You spoil everything 
 with that temper of yours, my dear. Don't be cross, 
 ray beauty ; it don't matter much ; comes to the 
 same thing in the end. Now just look here, Polly. 
 You haven't seen those two ladies again, nor either 
 one of them ?" 
 
 " You're wrong there," she cried triumphantly. 
 
 " Hollo ! Steady Polly. It wasn't the foreigner 
 then?" 
 
 " How did you know? " 
 
 Gammon chuckled over his good luck. 
 
 " Never mind. We'll come to that another time. 
 Who was she with, my dear ?" 
 
 " Another lady and gentleman, much younger 
 than her. I stood near 'em as long as I could, and 
 listened with all my ears, but I couldn't hear noth- 
 ing any use. But I saw as they went away in a 
 private kerridge, all three together ; I saw that 
 much." 
 
 " And found where they went to ? " 
 
 "Go along! How could I?" 
 
 " Might have been managed, Polly," he answered 
 musingly. " Never mind, better luck next time. 
 What you've got to do, my angel, is to find where 
 that lady lives — the one that sat next our friend, 
 you know, not the foreigner. Keep your eyes open,
 
 128 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 Polly, and be smart, and if you tell me where she 
 lives, then I shall have something more to say to 
 you. It's between me and you, my beauty. You 
 just bring me that little bit of information, and you 
 won't regret it."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 MR. PARISH PURSUES A BROUGHAM 
 
 Christopher Parish lived at home ; that is to 
 say he was not a lodger under an alien roof, like the 
 majority of such young men in London, but abode 
 with his own people ; his mother, his elder brother 
 and his brother's wife. They had a decent little 
 house in Kennington, managed, rather better than 
 such houses generally are, by Mrs. Parish the 
 younger, who was childless, and thus able to devote 
 herself to what she called " hyjene " — a word con- 
 stantly on her lips, and on those of her husband. 
 Mr. Theodore Parish, aged about five-and-thirty, 
 was an audit-clerk in the offices of a railway com- 
 pany, and he loved to expatiate on the hardships of 
 his position ; which lay in the fact that he could not 
 hope for a higher income than one hundred and fifty 
 pounds ; and this despite the trying and responsible 
 nature of the duties he discharged. After dwelling 
 upon this injustice, he would add, with peculiar 
 gravity, that really, in certain moods, one all but 
 inclined to give a hearing to the arguments of So- 
 cialistic agitators. In other moods, and these more 
 9 "9
 
 I30 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 frequent, Mr. Parish indulged in native optimism, 
 tempered by anxiety in matters, of " hygene." He 
 was much preoccupied with the laundry ques- 
 tion. 
 
 " Now, are you quite sure, Ada, that this laun- 
 dress is a conscientious woman ? Does she manage 
 her establishment on modern principles? I beg 
 you will make a personal inspection. If ever a 
 a laundress refuses to let you make a personal in- 
 spection, be sure there is something wrong. Just 
 think how vital it is — this washing question. We 
 send our clothes, our personal garments, to a strange 
 house — to be mixed up with — " 
 
 And so on, at great length, Mrs. Theodore listen- 
 ing patiently and approvingly. With equal solici- 
 tude did they discuss the food upon their table. 
 
 " Then, I shall have to change our baker." 
 
 "Ah? Indeed! Why?" 
 
 " I hardly like to tell you, but perhaps I had 
 better. I have only just found out that a sewer- 
 trap quite close to his shop gives out a most offen- 
 sive affluvia, especially in this hot weather. The 
 air must be full of germs. I hardly know whether 
 we ought to eat even this loaf. What do you 
 think?" 
 
 Every one's dinner was spoilt. Theodore declared 
 that really, when one considered the complicated 
 and expensive machinery of local government, if 
 sewer traps and afflitvias were allowed to exist in 
 the immediate neighbourhood of bakers' shops,
 
 MR. PARISH PURSUES A BROUGHAM 131 
 
 why, it really made one inclined to ask whether there 
 might not be something in the arguments of the 
 Socialists. 
 
 Christopher one day brought home some knick- 
 knack which he had bought from a City pedlar, 
 one of those men who stand at the edge of the 
 pavement, between a vigilant police and a menacing 
 vehicular traffic. It amused his sister-in-law, who 
 showed it to her husband. Theodore, having learnt 
 whence it came was not a little concerned. 
 
 " Now if that isn't like Christopher ! When will 
 that boy learn ordinary prudence ? The idea of 
 buying things from a man whose clothes, more likely 
 than not, reek with infection ! Dear me ! Has he 
 never reflected where those fellows live ? Destroy 
 the thing at once, and wash your hands very care- 
 fully, I beg. I do hope you haven't been making 
 pastry, or lemonade? As if the inevitable risks of 
 life were not enough — " 
 
 It was, of course, utterly unsuspected by the elder 
 members of the household that Christopher had 
 " formed a connexion " — in so innocent a sense — 
 with a young woman who sold programmes and 
 took tips at the theatre. That connexion had come 
 about in the simplest way. One Sunday evening, 
 a year ago, Christopher was returning from Clapham 
 Common on the top of a crowded tram, and next 
 to him sat a girl with a fresh colour, whom he eyed 
 with respectfully furtive admiration. This young 
 person had paid her fare, but carelessly dropped the
 
 132 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 ticket, and it chanced that an inspector who came 
 on board at a certain point raised the question 
 whether she had really paid. The conductor weakly 
 expressed a doubt, suggesting that this passenger 
 had ascended with two or three other people, since 
 his last collection of fares. Here was a chance for 
 young Mr. Parish, who could give conscientious 
 evidence. Very hot in the face, he declared, afifirmed 
 and asseverated that the young lady was telling the 
 truth, and his energy at length prevailed. Of course 
 this led to colloquy between the two. Polly Sparkes 
 — for she it was — behaved modestly but graciously. 
 It was true she had exhibited short temper in her 
 passage with the officials, but Christopher thought 
 this a becoming spirit. In his eyes she was lovely 
 and could do nothing amiss. When she alighted, 
 he did so too, frowning upon the conductor by way 
 of final rebuke. Their ways appeared to be the 
 same ; as if inadvertently, they walked together 
 along Kennington Road. And so pleasant was their 
 conversation that Polly went some way past Mrs. 
 Bubb's before saying that she must bid her new com- 
 panion good-by. Trembling at his audacity, Chris- 
 topher humbly put the question whether he might 
 not hope to see the young lady again ; and Polly 
 laughed and tittered, and said she didn't know, but 
 p'raps. Thereupon, Mr. Parish nervously made an 
 offering of his name and address, and Polly, tittering 
 again, exclaimed that they lived quite near each 
 other, and playfully made known the position of hei
 
 -MR. PARISH PURSUES A BROUGHAM 133 
 
 dwelling. So were the proprieties complied with, 
 and so began the enslavement of Christopher. 
 
 He had since told all there was to tell about his 
 family and circumstances, Polly in return throwing 
 out a few vague hints as to her own private affairs. 
 Christopher would have liked to invite her to his 
 home, but lacked courage ; his mother, his brother 
 and Mrs. Theodore — what would they say ? The 
 rigour of their principles overawed him. He often 
 thought of abandoning his home, but neither for 
 that step had he the necessary spirit of independence. 
 Miss Sparkes no longer seemed to him of virtue 
 compact ; he sadly admitted in his wakeful hours 
 that she had a temper ; he often doubted whether 
 she ever gave him a serious thought. But the fact 
 remained that Polly did not send him about his 
 business, and at times even seemed glad to see him. 
 Until that awful night when, by deplorable accident, 
 he encountered her near Lincoln's Inn. That surely 
 was the end of everything. Christopher, after 
 tottering home he knew not how, wept upon his 
 pillow. Of course he was jealous as well as pro- 
 foundly hurt. Not without some secret reason had 
 Polly met him so fiercely, brutally. He would try 
 to think of her no more ; she was clearly not destined 
 to be his. 
 
 For a full fortnight he shunned the whole region 
 of London in which Polly might he met. He was 
 obliged, of course, to pass each night in Kennington, 
 but he kept himself within doors there. Then he
 
 134 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 could bear his misery no longer. Three lachrymose 
 letters had elicited no response ; he wrote once 
 more and thus : 
 
 " Dearest Miss Sparkes, — If you do not wish to 
 be the cause of my death I hereby ask you to see me, 
 if only for the very shortest space of time. If you 
 refuse, I know I shall do something rash. To-night 
 and to-morrow night at half-past ten I will be 
 standing at the south end of Westminster Bridge, 
 the river will be near me \i you are not ; remember 
 that. Yours, for now and eternity. C. J. P." 
 
 To this dread summons Polly at length yielded. 
 She met Christopher, and they paced together on 
 the embankment in front of St. Thomas's Hospital, 
 It rained a little, and was so close that they both 
 dripped with perspiration. 
 
 " P'r'aps I was a bit short with you," Polly 
 admitted, after listening to her admirer's remon- 
 strances, uttered in a choking voice. " But I can't 
 stand being spied after, and spied after I won't 
 be!" 
 
 " I have told you, Polly, at the very least sixty or 
 seventy times, that I've never done such a thing, 
 and wouldn't, and couldn't. It never came into my 
 'ead." 
 
 "Well then, we won't say no more about it and 
 don't put me out again, that's all." 
 
 " But there's something else, Polly. You know
 
 MR. PARISH PURSUES A BROUGHAM 135 
 
 very well, Polly, what a lot I think of you — don't 
 you now ? " 
 
 " Oh, I dessay," she replied, with careless indul- 
 gence. 
 
 " Then — why won't you let me see you oftener, 
 — and — and — that kind of thing, you know." 
 
 This was vague but perfectly intelligible to the 
 hearer. She gave an impatient little laugh. 
 
 " Oh, don't be silly ! Go on ! " 
 " But it isnt silly. You know what I mean. 
 And you said — " 
 
 " There you go, bringing up what I said. Don't 
 worry me. If you can't talk quiet and friendly, we'd 
 better not see each other at all. I shouldn't wonder 
 if that was best, for both of us." 
 
 Polly had never been less encouraging. She 
 seemed preoccupied and spoke in an idle, inattentive 
 way. Her suggestion that they should " part 
 friends," though she returned upon it several times, 
 did not sound as if it were made in earnest, and 
 this was Christopher's one solace. 
 
 " Will you meet me, regular, once a week? "he 
 pleaded. "Just for a talk! " 
 
 " No, it's too often." 
 
 " I know what that means ! " exclaimed the young 
 man, in the bitterness of his soul. " There's some- 
 body else. " Yes, that's it, there's somebody else." 
 
 " Well, and what if there was ? " asked Polly, 
 looking far away. " I don't see as it would be any 
 business of yours."
 
 136 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 " Oh, just listen to that ! " cried Christopher. 
 " That's how a girl talks to you when she knows 
 you're ready to jump into the river! It's my belief 
 that girls haven't much feeling." 
 
 The outrageous audacity of this avowal saved the 
 speaker from Polly's indignation. She saw that he 
 was terribly hard driven, and, in spite of herself, once 
 more softened towards him. For Polly had never 
 disliked Mr. Parish ; from the very first his ingenu- 
 ous devotedness excited in her something, however 
 elementary, of reciprocal feeling ; she thought him 
 comely to look upon, and had often reflected upon 
 how pleasant it was to rule a man by her slightest 
 look or word. To be sure, Christopher's worldly 
 position was nothing to boast of, but one knew him 
 for the steady, respectable young clerk, who is more 
 likely than not to advance by modest increments 
 of salary. Miss Sparkes would have perceived, had 
 she been capable of intellectual perception, that 
 Christopher answered fairly well to one of her ideals. 
 Others there were, which tended to draw her from 
 him ; but she had never yet deliberately turned her 
 back upon the young man. 
 
 So now, instead of answering bitterness with 
 wrath, she spoke more gently than of wont. 
 
 " Don't take on in that way. You'll only have a 
 headache to-morrow. I can't promise to meet you 
 regular, but you can write, and I'll let you know 
 when I'm ready for a talk. There, now, won't that 
 do?"
 
 MR. PARISH PURSUES A BROUGHAM 137 
 
 Christopher had to make it do, and presently ac- 
 cepted the conditions with tolerable grace. Before 
 they parted, Polly even assured him that, if ever 
 there zvas any one else she would deal honestly with 
 him, and let him know. This being as much as to 
 say that he might still hope, Christopher cast away 
 hia thoughts of self-destruction, and went home 
 with an appetite for a late supper. 
 
 Two months elapsed before anything of moment 
 occurred in the relations thus established. Then, 
 at one of their brief meetings, Polly delighted the 
 young man by telling him that he might wait for 
 her outside of the theatre on a certain evening of 
 the same week. Hitherto such awaitings had been 
 strictly forbidden. 
 
 " Won't I just ! " cried Mr. Parish. "And you'll 
 come and have some supper? " 
 
 " I can't promise. I may want to ask you to 
 do something for me. Just you be ready, that's 
 
 all." 
 
 He promised exultantly, and when the evening 
 came took up his position a full hour before Polly 
 could be expected to come forth. 
 
 Now this was the first night of a new piece at 
 Polly's theatre, and she, long watching in vain for 
 the reappearance of the lady whose address she was 
 to discover for Mr. Gammon, thought it a very pos- 
 sible thing that a person who had been twice to see 
 the old entertainment might attend the first per- 
 formance of the new. Her mysterious uncle had
 
 138 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 never again communicated with her, and Polly be- 
 gan to doubt what Mr. Gammon's knowledge really 
 was, but she had given her confidence beyond re- 
 call, and, though with many vicissitudes of feeling, 
 she still wished to keep Gammon sole ally in this 
 strange affair. Once or twice, indeed, she had felt 
 disposed to tell Christopher that there was " some 
 one else," but nothing Gammon had said fully jus- 
 tified this, and Polly, though an emotional young 
 woman, had a good deal of prudence. One thing 
 was certain, she very much desired to bring her old 
 enemy to the point of a declaration. How she 
 would receive it when it came she could not wholly 
 determine. 
 
 Her conjecture regarding the unknown lady was 
 justified. Among the first who entered the stalls 
 was a man whom Polly seemed to remember, and 
 close behind him came first a younger lady, then 
 the one for whom her eyes had searched night after 
 night. In supplying them with programmes, Polly 
 observed and listened with feverish attention. The 
 elder woman had slightly grizzled hair ; her age 
 could not be less than fifty, but she was in good 
 health and spirits. With the intention of describing 
 her to Gammon, Polly noticed that she had a some- 
 what masculine nose, high in the bridge. 
 
 A quarter of an hour before the end of the piece 
 Polly, dressed for departure, came forth and dis- 
 covered her faithful slave. 
 
 " Now listen to me," she said, checking his blan-
 
 ^ MR. PARISH PURSUES A BROUGHAM 139 
 
 dishments. " I told you there might be something 
 to do for me, and there is." 
 
 Parish was all eagerness. 
 
 " There'll be three people coming out from the 
 stalls, a gentleman and two ladies. I'll show you 
 them — see? They'll drive off in a kerridge — see? 
 And I want you to find out where they go." 
 
 Nothing could have been more startling to Chris- 
 topher in whose mind began a whirl of suspicions 
 and fears. 
 
 " Why ? What for ? " he asked involuntarily. 
 
 Polly was short with him. 
 
 " All right, if you won't do it, say so, and, I'll ask 
 somebody else, I've no time to lose." 
 
 He gasped and stammered. Yes, yes, of course 
 he would do it ; he had not dreamt of refusing. 
 He would run after the carriage, however far — 
 
 " Don't be a silly. You'll have to take a 'ansom 
 and tell the driver to follow — see? " 
 
 Yes ; oh yes, of course. He would do so. He 
 trembled with excessive nervousness and but for the 
 sharp, contemptuous directions given him by Miss 
 Sparkes must have hopelessly bungled the under- 
 taking. Indeed it was not easy to carry out in the 
 confusion before a theatre when the audience is 
 leaving, and bearing in mind the regulations con- 
 cerning vehicles. Their scheme was based upon the 
 certainty that the carriage must proceed at a very 
 moderate pace for some two or three hundred yards ; 
 within that limit or a very little beyond it — at all
 
 I40 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 events before his breath was exhausted — Christopher 
 would certainly be able to hail a cab. 
 
 " Tell the cabby they're friends of yours," said 
 Polly, " and you're going to the same 'ouse. You 
 look quite respectable enough, with your 'igh 'at. 
 That's what I like about jfou ; you always looks re- 
 spectable." 
 
 " But — but, he will set me down right beside the 
 people — " 
 
 " Well, what if he does, gooseberry. Can't you 
 just pay him quietly ? They'll think you're for next 
 door." 
 
 " But — but it may be a big house by itself some- 
 where — " 
 
 " Well, silly ? They'll think it's a mistake, that's 
 all. What's the matter in the dark ? You do as I 
 tell you. And when you've got to know the address 
 — you can take your time about that, of course — 
 come back along Shaftesbury Avenue, and give three 
 knocks at the door, and I'll come down." 
 
 It flashed through Christopher's mind that he 
 would be terribly late in getting home, but there 
 was no help for it. If he refused this undertaking 
 or failed to carry it out successfully Polly would 
 cast him off. The gloom of a desperate mood fell 
 upon him. He had the feeling of a detective, or of 
 a criminal, he knew not which ; the mystery of the 
 affair was a hideous oppression. 
 
 Even the initial step, that of watching the trio of 
 strangers into their brougham, was not without
 
 MR. PARISH PURSUES A BROUGHAM 141 
 
 difficulty. The pavement began to be crowded. 
 Clutching her slave by the arm, Polly managed to 
 hold a position whence she could see the people who 
 descended the front steps of the theatre, and at 
 length her energy was rewarded. The ladies she 
 could not have recognised, for they were muffled 
 against the night air ; but their male companion 
 she "spotted" — that was the word in her mind — 
 with certainty. 
 
 " There ! See those three ! That's them," she 
 whispered excitedly. " Off you go ! " 
 
 And off he went, as if life depended upon it : his 
 eyes on the brougham, his heart throbbing violently, 
 moisture dropping from his forehead and making 
 his collar limp. The carriage disengaged itself ; the 
 pace quickened, he began to run and collided with 
 pedestrians who cursed him. Now — now or never 
 — A cab ! 
 
 By good luck he plunged into a hansom wanting 
 a fare. 
 
 ** The carriage — friends of mine — that carriage ! " 
 
 " Ketch 'em up ? " asked the driver briskly. 
 
 " No — same 'ouse — follow — " 
 
 As he flung himself into the vehicle, he seriously 
 feared he was on the point of breaking a blood-vessel, 
 never had he been at such extremity of breath. But 
 his eyes clung to the brougham, in dread lest he 
 should lose sight of it, or confuse it with another. 
 The driver whipped his horse. Thank goodness, 
 the carriage remained well in sight. But if there
 
 142 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 should come a block ! A perilous point was Pic- 
 cadilly Circus. Never, it seemed to him, had the 
 streets of London roared with such a tumult of 
 traffic. Right ! the Circus was passed ; now Pic- 
 cadilly with its blessed quietness. What a speed 
 they kept ! Hyde park Corner, Knightsbridge 
 and — what road was that ? Christopher's geography 
 failed him ; he pretended to no familiarity with the 
 West End. 
 
 On swept his hansom in what he felt to be a most 
 impudent pursuit ; nay, for all he knew it might 
 subject him to the suspicion of the police. The 
 cabby need not follow so close ; why, the horse's 
 nose all but touched the brougham now and then. 
 How much further ? How was he to get back ? He 
 could not possibly reach home till one in the morn- 
 ing 
 
 The brougham made a sharp curve, the hansom 
 followed. Then came a sudden stop.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE NAME OF GILDERSLEEVE 
 
 A SQUARE ; imposing houses about a space of 
 verdure. That was what Christopher perceived, as 
 he looked wildly round, flung back the apron, 
 jumped out. His position was awful ; voices of the 
 persons alighting from the brougham seemed to 
 sound at his very ear ; he had become one of the 
 party ; the man in evening dress stared at him. 
 But even in this dread moment, so bent was he on 
 fulfilling his mission, that he at once cast an eye 
 over the front of the house, to fix it in his memory. 
 There was a magnificent display of flowers at every 
 window ; the houses immediately right and left had 
 no flowers at all. 
 
 Then he fumbled for money. Coppers, a six- 
 pence, a shilling ; no other small change, and he 
 durst not offer so little as eighteenpence, (How- 
 ever, Heaven be thanked ! the people had gone in 
 and the brougham was moving away.) In his purse 
 he had half a sovereign. 
 
 " Got change? " he inquired, as boldly as possible. 
 
 "How much?" returned the driver, curtly; for 
 
 143
 
 144 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 he had noticed with curiosity that his fare ex- 
 changed no greeting with the carriage people, and 
 that the door was shut. 
 
 " Change for half a sovereign, — seven shillings 
 would do." 
 
 " Ain't got it. See ; fourpence in 'apence, that's 
 all." 
 
 The man's eye began to alarm Christopher. He 
 shook with indecision ; he gulped down his bitter- 
 ness ; he handed the golden coin. 
 
 " All right ; never mind change." 
 
 " Thanky, sir, good-night." 
 
 And Mr. Parish was alone on the pavement. So 
 grievously did he feel for the loss of that half- 
 sovereign, that for some moments he could think 
 of nothing else. His heart burned against Polly. 
 What had she got to do with these people in the 
 big house ? How could he be sure that it did not 
 imply some shameful secret? And he must go 
 throwing away his hard-earned money ! Gladly he 
 would have spent it on a supper for Polly ; but to 
 pay ten shillings for a half-crown drive ! A whole 
 blessed half-sovereign ! 
 
 Another carriage drove up and stopped at the 
 next house. Christopher remembered that he must 
 discover the address, an easy matter enough. He 
 found that the square was called Stanhope Gardens. 
 He noted the number of the house with flowers, 
 then, weary, disgusted, he started on his eastward 
 walk. Omnibuses of course there were none. The
 
 TIE NAME OF GILDERSLEEVE 145 
 
 chance of a train at some underground station 
 seemed too doubtful to think about ; in any case 
 he had no more money to waste. On he plodded, 
 heavily, angrily, Cromwell Road, Brompton Road, 
 at last Piccadilly, and so into familiar districts, 
 though he had never walked here so late at night. 
 -Of course there would be nasty questions to-morrow ; 
 Theodore would look grave, and Ada would be virtu- 
 ously sour, and his mother — but perhaps they would 
 not worry her by disclosing such things. Unac- 
 customed to express himself with violence, Chris- 
 topher at about half-past twelve found some relief 
 in a timid phrase or two of swearing. 
 
 When he reached Shaftesbury Avenue, he was 
 dog-tired. The streets had now become very quiet ; 
 he felt a doubt as to the possibility of knocking at a 
 house door. But Polly had said he was to do so, 
 be the hour what it might. The front of the house 
 was dark ; not a glimmer in any window. Doubt- 
 fully he drew near and knocked thrice. 
 
 Minutes passed ; nearly five, in fact ; then he 
 knocked again. He would wait five minutes more, 
 and then — 
 
 But the door softly opened. 
 
 " That you ? " said Polly's voice. 
 
 " Yes; it is," 
 
 She opened the door wider, and he saw by the 
 light from the street that she was dressed as usual. 
 
 " How late you are ! Well ? Can't you speak ? " 
 
 " I'm dead beat, that's the truth," he replied, 
 10
 
 146 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 leaning against the door-post. " Walked back all 
 the way from South Kensington." 
 
 "Oh, it was there, was it? " said Polly, without 
 heed to his complaint. " What's the address ? " 
 
 " I tell you what, Polly," broke from Chris- 
 topher's dry lips, " I think you might show a bit 
 more feeling for a fellow, when he's walked himself 
 to death — " 
 
 "You might have took a cab, just for this once." 
 
 "A cab! Why, the other one cost me half-a- 
 sovereign ! " 
 
 " Half-a-sovereign ! " echoed Polly in amazement. 
 " To South Kensington ? " 
 
 It did not occur to Mr. Parish that such a detail 
 might be left unmentioned. In these little matters 
 there is a difference between class and class. Polly 
 was not, of course, surprised at his letting her know 
 what the mission had cost him, but the sum made 
 her indignant. 
 
 " Well, he 'ad you, that cabby ! " 
 
 Christopher related the circumstances, — still lean- 
 ing in exhaustion against the door-post, — and Miss 
 Sparkes, who under no conceivable stress could 
 have suffered herself to be so " done out of " a piece 
 of gold, scarcely knew whether to despise or to pity 
 him. After all, a compassionate feeling prevailed, 
 sure sign that there was something disinterested in 
 her association with this young man. 
 
 " I'm very sorry," she said. " I never thought it 
 'ud cost you that much."
 
 THE NAME OF GILDERSLEEVE I47 
 
 " I shouldn't care a bit," Christopher replied, " If 
 you treated me better now I've got here," 
 
 Polly moved just a little nearer to him ; ever 
 so little, but the movement was appreciable. Un- 
 fortunately, Christopher was too weary to notice 
 it. 
 
 " What was the address ? " she asked, in an under- 
 tone, which, had but. Mr. Parish understood, fitly 
 accompanied that little movement. 
 
 He told her, bluntly, and Polly repeated the 
 words. 
 
 "And now I suppose I may say good-night," 
 Christopher added, still with discontent. 
 
 " Well, thank you very much for getting me that 
 address." 
 
 " But you won't tell me what you want it for ? " 
 
 " I will some time. I can't just now. It's awful 
 late, and we mustn't stand talking here." 
 
 Again she came one step nearer. Now, if Chris- 
 topher Parish had not lost half a sovereign, or if he 
 had been less worn out, or if the mystery of the 
 evening had not lain so heavy on his mind, assuredly 
 he would have noticed this onward coming ; for as 
 a rule, the young man was sensitive and perceptive 
 enough, all things considered. Alas ! he did not 
 look into Polly's face, which in the dusk of the door- 
 way had turned towards his. 
 
 " I'll be going then," he muttered, " Good-night ! 
 Jolly long walk before me still." 
 
 *' I'm very sorry. I am really."
 
 148 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 " Oh, never mind. When shall I see you again ? " 
 
 The crucial moment was past. Polly drew a step 
 back, and held the door. 
 
 " I'll write — before long. Good-night and thank 
 you. 
 
 Mr. Parish plodded away down the Avenue, say- 
 ing to himself that he was blest if he'd be made a 
 fool of like this much longer. 
 
 The next morning, Polly wrote a line to Mr. 
 Gammon, and two days later, on Sunday, they met 
 in that little strip of garden on the Embankment 
 which lies between Charing Cross Station and 
 Waterloo Bridge. It was the first week of October ; 
 a cold wind rustled the yellowing plane-trees, and 
 open-air seats offered no strong temptations. The 
 two conversed as they walked along. Polly had not 
 mentioned in her letter any special reason for wish- 
 ing to see Mr. Gammon, nor did she hasten to make 
 known her discovery. 
 
 " Why do you wear a 'at like that on a Sunday?" 
 she began by asking tartly, 
 
 " Because it's comfortable, I suppose," answered 
 Gammon, reflecting for the first time that it was not 
 very respectful to come to this rendezvous in a 
 " bowler." Polly had never mentioned the matter 
 before, though she had thought about it. " You 
 like the chimney-pot better ? " 
 
 " Why, of course I do. On a Sunday, too, who 
 wouldn't ?" 
 
 " I'll bear it in mind, my dear. My chimney-pot
 
 THE NAME OF GILDERSLEEVE I49 
 
 wants ironing. Have it done to-morrow, if I can 
 find time." 
 
 Polly scrutinised the costume of a girl walking 
 with a soldier, and asked all at once, indifferently. 
 
 " Do you know anybody called Gildersleeve ? " 
 
 "Gildersleeve? Don't think so. No. Why?" 
 
 She searched his face to make sure that he did 
 not simulate ignorance. 
 
 " Well, you wanted me to find out where that 
 lady lived, — you know, — her as was with Mr. C. at 
 the theatre — " 
 
 " And youVe got it ? " cried Gammon, excitedly. 
 
 Yes, she had got it; and by consulting a directory 
 at a public-house she had discovered the name of 
 the family residing at that address. Gildersleeve ? 
 The name conveyed nothing to Mr. Gammon ; none 
 the less, he was delighted. 
 
 "Good for you, Polly! But how did you do 
 
 it?" 
 
 She put on an air of mystery. Never mind how ; 
 there was the address, if he could make any use of 
 it. Gammon smiled provokingly. 
 
 " Some friend of yours, eh ? You're well off for 
 friends, Polly. I ask no questions, my dear ; no 
 business of mine. Much obliged to you all the 
 same." 
 
 " If you're so particular about who it was," said 
 Polly, with her air of pique and propriety, " well it's 
 a boy. So you needn't look at me like that." 
 
 " A boy, eh ? "
 
 I50 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 "Well, that's what I think him. He's a young 
 clerk in the City as I've known long enough, and / 
 think him a boy. Of course you're always ready to 
 believe harm of me, — thafs nothing new. And if 
 the truth was known, you go talkin' to Mrs. Bubb 
 and them Cheesemans — " 
 
 " I don't ! I told you I shouldn't and I don't ! " 
 
 "You do!" 
 
 " It's a lie ! " 
 
 " You're one yourself ! " retorted Polly, with 
 heat. 
 
 Thereupon Mr. Gammon turned sharp about and 
 walked off. Polly could not believe that he would 
 really go ; scorning to look back, she paced on for 
 some minutes, but no familiar step approached her. 
 When at length she looked round, Mr. Gammon 
 was nowhere to be seen. This extraordinary be- 
 haviour she attributed to jealousy, and so was not 
 entirely displeased. But the idea of leaving her 
 in the middle of the street, as one might say ! 
 Did one ever ! And just after he'd got what he 
 wanted ! 
 
 " All right, old fellow ! Wait till you want to see 
 me again, that's all." 
 
 To have his word disbelieved was the one thing 
 fatal to Gammon's temper. He strode off in a tow- 
 ering rage, determined to hold no more communica- 
 tion with Miss Sparkes, and blaming himself for 
 having got into such an ambiguous position towards 
 her. As if he had ever really cared one snap of the
 
 THE NAME OF GILDERSLEEVE 151 
 
 fingers for the red-headed spitfire ! She to tell him 
 to his face that his word was not to be trusted ! He 
 had never stood that yet, from man or woman ! 
 
 At this rate, he would presently have no female 
 friends at all. Mrs. Clover he had not once seen 
 since the evening at Mrs. Bubb's, and every day 
 that went by put a greater distance between them. 
 He understood her unfriendliness; she thought this 
 the best way of destroying any hopes he might still 
 entertain with reference to Minnie ; yes, that was 
 the only possible explanation of her silence. It was 
 too bad ; Mrs. Clover might have put more faith in 
 him. Now he would not visit her ; he would 7iot 
 write. If she wished to see him again, let her ac- 
 knowledge the wrong she had done him. 
 
 As for the muddle about her husband, be hanged 
 to it ! He would think no more about the business. 
 Ten to one this address Polly had obtained would 
 be quite useless. How could he go to strangers 
 (named Gildersleeve) and coolly inquire of them 
 whether they knew a man named Clover ? Of course 
 they would have him kicked into the street ; and 
 serve him right. 
 
 Polly and her hoy ! A young City clerk, eh ? 
 Old enough to wear a chimney-pot, he'd be bound. 
 Polly was fond of chimney-pots. There, he had 
 done with her, and with Clover and Quodling and 
 Gildersleeve, and all the rest of the puzzle. 
 
 As he suddenly entered the house, Moggie ran to 
 him up the kitchen stairs.
 
 152 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 " There's been a gentleman for you, Mr. Gam- 
 mon." 
 
 " Oh ! Who was it ? " 
 
 " Mr. Greenacres — driving a trap, and the 'orse 
 wouldn't stand still and he said he'd see you some 
 other time." 
 
 " Greenacres, eh ? All right." 
 
 He sat for a quarter of an hour in his bedroom, 
 unable to decide how he should spend the rest of 
 the day. After all, perhaps he ought not to have 
 abandoned Polly so abruptly. In her own way, she 
 had been doing him a kindness ; and as for her tem- 
 per, well, she couldn't help it — 
 
 He would go to Dulwich and see the bow-wows.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 AN ALLY IN THE QUEST 
 
 Commercially he was doing well. Quodling 
 and Son were more than satisfied with him. Ex- 
 cellent prospects lay ahead, and this time it would 
 assuredly be his own fault if he had not secured the 
 " permanency " so much desired for him by Mrs. 
 Clover. 
 
 By the by, would this make any difference ? What 
 if he let Mrs. Clover know of his greatly improved 
 position ? She might reconsider things. And yet 
 as often as he thought of Minnie, he felt that her 
 mother's objection corresponded only too well with 
 the disposition of the girl. Minnie was not ior him. 
 Well and good ; he would find somebody else. 
 
 Polly Sparkes ? — Polly be hanged ! Why did her 
 eyes and her teeth and her rosy cheeks keep plagu- 
 ing him ? He had told himself times innumerable, 
 that he cared not a snap of the fingers for Polly and 
 all her highly coloured attractions. If only he had 
 not been such a fool as to treat her shabbily last 
 Sunday morning! He felt sorry and couldn't get 
 rid of the vexation. 
 
 It worried him this afternoon asheleft Quodling's 
 
 HZ
 
 I54 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 in Norton Folgate and walked toward the Bank. 
 He was thinking, too, of a poor fellow with a large 
 family, for whom he had tried these last few days to 
 find employment, without the usual success. In 
 Threadneedle Street a hand arrested him. 
 
 " Just the man I wanted," said the voice of Mr. 
 Greenacre. He was in an elegant overcoat, with a 
 silk hat of the newest fashion. " You remember 
 your promise ? " 
 
 " What promise ?" 
 
 " Nonsense ! But we can't talk about it here. 
 Come to the Bilboes — Don't know the Bilboes ? 
 What a mood you're in to-day." 
 
 Mr. Gammon flattered himself that he knew the 
 City tolerably well, but with the place of refresh- 
 ment to which his friend now led him he was totally 
 unacquainted. It stood, or lurked, in a very ob- 
 scure by-way between the Bank and St. Paul's, and 
 looked externally by no means inviting ; within, 
 but for the absence of daylight at all times, it was 
 comfortable enough and peculiarly quiet ; some 
 thing between an old inn and a modern public- 
 house, with several small rooms for eating, drinking, 
 smoking, or any other legitimate occupation. The 
 few men who were about had a prosperous appear- 
 ance, and Gammon saw that they did not belong to 
 his special world. 
 
 " What does the name mean ? " he inquired, as 
 they seated themselves under a gas-jet in a corner 
 made cosy with a deep divan.
 
 AN ALLY IN THE QUEST 155 
 
 " Bilboes? Oh, I originated it, in the days gone 
 by. The proprietor was a man called William 
 Bowes — you perceive ? Poor little Jimmy Todd 
 used to roar about it. The best natured fellow that 
 ever lived. You've heard me speak of him — second 
 son of Sir Luke Todd. Died, poor boy, out in 
 India." 
 
 " What promise of mine were you talking about ? " 
 asked Gammon, when an order for drinks had been 
 given." 
 
 "Promise? Promise? — Nonsense! You're wool- 
 gathering to-day, my dear boy — By the by I called 
 at your place on Sunday. I was driving a very 
 fresh pony, new to harness ; promised to trot her 
 round a little for a friend of mine. Thought you 
 might have liked a little turn on the Surrey 
 roads." 
 
 Greenacre chatted with his usual fluency and 
 seemed at ease in the world. 
 
 " You're doing well just now, eh ? " said Gammon 
 presently. 
 
 " Thanks ; feel remarkably well. A touch of liver 
 now and then, but nothing serious. By the by, 
 anything I can do for you ? Any genealogy? " 
 
 Gammon had drained his tumbler of hot whisky 
 and felt better for it. With the second he became 
 more communicative ; he asked himself why, after 
 all, he should not hang on to the clue he had ob- 
 tained from Polly, and why Greenacre should not 
 be made use of.
 
 156 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 " Know anything about a Gildersleeve? " he asked 
 with a laugh. 
 
 His companion smiled cheerfully, looking at once 
 more interested. 
 
 " Gildersleeve ? Why, yes, there was a boy of 
 that name — no, no ; it was Gildersleeves, I remem- 
 ber. Any connexion with Quodling?" 
 
 " Can't say. The people I mean live in Stanhope 
 Gardens. I don't know anything about them." 
 
 "Like to?" 
 
 Gammon admitted that the name had a signifi- 
 cance for him. A matter of curiosity — 
 
 " No harm in a bit of genealogy," said Greenacre. 
 "Always interesting. Stanhope Gardens? What 
 number? " 
 
 He urged no further question, and gave no prom- 
 ise, but Gammon felt sure this time that infor- 
 mation would speedily be forthcoming. Scarcely a 
 week passed before Greenacre wrote to him with a 
 request for a meeting at the Bilboes. As usual, the 
 man of mystery approached his subject by indirect 
 routes. Beginning with praise of London as the 
 richest ground of romance discoverable in the world, 
 he proceeded to tell the story of a cats'-meat woman 
 who, after purveying for the cats at a West End 
 mansion for many years ; discovered one day that 
 the master of the house was her own son. 
 
 " He behaved to her very handsomely. At this 
 moment she is living in a pleasant little villa out 
 Leatherhead way ; you see her driving herself in a
 
 AN ALLY IN THE QUEST 1^7 
 
 little donkey-carriage, and throwing bits of meat to 
 pussy-cats at the cottage doors. Touch of nature, 
 that, isn't it ? By the by, you were speaking of a 
 family named Gildersleeve." 
 
 He added this absently, looking about the little 
 room, which just now they had to themselves. 
 
 " Know anything about them ? " asked Gammon 
 eyeing him curiously. 
 
 " I was just going to say — ah, yes, to be sure, the 
 Gildersleeves. Now I wonder. Gammon, — forgive 
 me, I can't help wondering, — why this family in- 
 terests you." 
 
 " Oh, nothing — I came across the name — " 
 
 " Evidently," Greenacre's tone became a little 
 more positive. " I'm sure you have no objection to 
 telling me how and where you came across it." 
 
 Gammon had an uncomfortable sense of some 
 thing unfamiliar in his friend. Greenacrehad never 
 spoken in this way to him ; it sounded rather too 
 imperative, too much the tone of a superior. 
 
 " I don't think I can tell you that," he said 
 awkwardly. 
 
 " No? Really? I'm sorry. In that case I can't 
 tell you anything that I have learnt. Yet I fancy 
 it might be worth your while to exchange." 
 
 " Exchange? " 
 
 " Your information for mine, you know. What I 
 have is substantial, reliable. I think you can trust 
 m.e in matters of geneaology. Come now. Am I 
 right in supposing this curiosity of yours is not al-
 
 158 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 together unconnected with your interest in Francis 
 Quodling, the silk broker? nothing to me, Gam- 
 mon ; nothing, I assure you. Pure love of genea- 
 logical inquiry. Never made a penny out of such 
 things in my life. But I have taken a little trouble, 
 etc. As a matter of friendship — no ? Then we'll 
 drop the subject — By the by, have you a black-and- 
 tan to dispose of? " 
 
 He passed into a vein so chatty and so amiable 
 that Gammon began to repent of distrusting him. 
 Besides, his information might be really valuable 
 and could not easily be obtained in any other way. 
 
 " Look here, Greenacre, I don't see why I shouldn't 
 tell you. The fact is, a man I used to know has 
 disappeared, and I want to find him. He was seen 
 at the theatre with a lady who lives at that house ; 
 that's the long and short of it." 
 
 " Good. Now we're getting on in the old way. 
 Age of the man ? about fifty, eh ? And, if I remem- 
 ber, you said he was like Quodling in the face,— Fran- 
 cis Quodling ? — Just so, h'm ! I can assure you, 
 then, that no such individual lives at the house we're 
 speaking of." 
 
 " No, but perhaps — " 
 
 " One moment. The Gildersleeves are a young 
 married couple. With them lives an elder lady — " 
 
 Greenacre paused, meditating. 
 
 " The name of the missing man ? " he added, 
 gently. 
 
 " Fellow called Clover."
 
 AN ALLY IN THE QUEST 159 
 
 " Clover— Clover }—Clo—? " 
 
 Greenacre's first repetition of the name was me- 
 chanical ; the next sounded a note of confused sur- 
 prise ; the third broke short in a very singular way 
 just as if his eyes had suddenly fallen on something 
 which startled him into silence. Yet no one had 
 entered the room ; no face had appeared at the 
 door. 
 
 " What's up ? " asked Gammon. 
 
 The other regained his self-possession as though 
 he had for a moment wandered mentally from the 
 subject they were discussing. 
 
 ** Forgive me. What name did you say ? Yes, 
 yes; Clover. Odd name. Tell me something about 
 him. Where did you know him ? What was he ? " 
 
 Having gone so far, Gammon saw no reason for 
 refusing the details of the story. With the pleasure 
 that every man feels in narrating strange circum- 
 stances known only to a few, he told all he could 
 about the career of Mrs. Clover's husband. Green- 
 acre listened with a placidly-smiling attention. 
 
 " Just the kind of thing I am always coming 
 across," he remarked. " Everyday story in London. 
 We must find this man. Do you know his Chris- 
 tian name?" 
 
 " Mrs. Clover called him Mark." 
 
 " Mark. May or may not be his own, of course. 
 And now — if you permit the question — who saw 
 this man and recognised him in the theatre? " 
 
 Gammon gave a laugh. Then, fearing that he
 
 l6o THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 might convey a wrong impression, he answered seri- 
 ously that it was a niece of Mrs. Clover, a young 
 lady with whom he was on friendly terms — nothing 
 whatever but friendly terms ; a most respectable 
 young lady ; anxious, naturally, to bring Mrs. Clo- 
 ver and her husband together again, but discreet 
 enough to have kept the matter quiet as yet. And 
 he explained how it came about that this young 
 lady knew only the address in Stanhope Gardens. 
 After reflecting upon that, Greenacre urged that it 
 would be just as well not to take the young lady in- 
 to their counsel for the present ; to which his friend 
 readily assented. And so, when they had chatted a 
 little longer, the man of mystery rose " to keep an 
 appointment." Gammon should hear from him in 
 a day or two. 
 
 When ten days had gone by without fulfilment 
 of this promise, Gammon grew uneasy. He could 
 not communicate with Greenacre, having no idea 
 where the man lived, or where he was to be heard 
 of ; an inquiry at " the Bilboes " proved that he was 
 not known there. One evening Gammon went to 
 look for himself at the house in Stanhope Gardens ; 
 he hung about the place for half an hour, but saw 
 nothing of interest or importance. He walked once 
 or twice along Shaftesbury Avenue, but did not 
 chance to meet Polly, and could not make up his 
 mind to beg an interview with her. At the end of 
 a fortnight, Greenacre wrote, and that evening they 
 met again at the obscure house of entertainment.
 
 AN ALLY IN THE QUEST l6l 
 
 " It is not, often," said Greenacre, in a despondent 
 tone, " that I have found an inquiry so difficult. Of 
 course it interests me all the more, and I shall go 
 on with it, but 1 must freely confess that I've got 
 nothing yet — absolutely nothing." 
 
 Gammon observed him vigilantly. 
 
 " Do you know what has occurred to me ? " pur- 
 sued the other, with a half melancholy droop of the 
 head. " I really begin to fear that the young lady, 
 your friend, may have made a mistake." 
 
 " How can that be, when he met her twice and 
 talked with her ?" 
 
 " You didn't tell me that," replied Greenacre as if 
 surprised. 
 
 " No, I didn't mention it. I thought it was 
 enough to tell you she spied him at the theatre." 
 
 He added a brief account of what had happened 
 between Polly and her uncle ; Greenacre listening 
 as if this threw new light on the case. 
 
 " Then, the mistake is mine. It's more interesting 
 than ever. This puts me on my mettle. Gammon. 
 Don't lose courage. I have a wonderful scent 
 in this kind of thing. Above all, not a word to 
 anybody — you understand the importance of 
 that ? " 
 
 " That's all right." 
 
 " I have a theory— oh, yes, there's a theory. With- 
 out a theory nothing can be done. I am working, 
 Gammon, on the scientific principle of induc- 
 tion." 
 II
 
 l62 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 "Oh, are you !" 
 
 " Strictly ; it has never failed me yet — I can't stay 
 now ; appointment at 10.30. But you shall hear 
 from me in a day or two." 
 
 " I say," inquired Gammon, " what's your address 
 now?" 
 
 "Address?" — oh, address letters to this place. 
 They'll be all right." 
 
 Another fortnight passed. It was now early in 
 November ; the weather gloomy, and by no means 
 favourable to evening strolls. Gammon wanted 
 much to see both Polly and Mrs. Clover ; he had all 
 but made up his mind to write to both of them, yet 
 could not decide on the proper tone in either case. 
 Was he to be humble to Mrs. Clover ? Should he 
 beg pardon of Polly ? That kind of thing did not 
 come easily to him. 
 
 On a day of thin yellow fog he returned about 
 noon from seeing to a piece of business the result 
 of which he had to report at once to Mr. Quodling. 
 He entered the clerks' ofifice and asked whether 
 " the governor " was alone. 
 
 " No, he ain't," replied a friendly young man. 
 " He's got a lord with him." 
 
 "A what?" 
 
 " A Peer of the Realm, sir ! I had the honour of 
 taking his ludship's card in — Lord Poll-parrot. 
 Can't say I ever heard of him before." 
 
 " What d'you mean? See here, I'm in a hurry; 
 no kid, Simpson."
 
 AN ALLY IN THE QUEST 163 
 
 " Well, it might be Poll-parrot. As a matter of 
 fact, it's Lord Polperro." 
 
 Gammon gazed fixedly at the young man. 
 
 " Lord Polperro ? — By jorrocks ! " 
 
 " Know him, Mr. Gammon ? " asked another of 
 the clerks. 
 
 " I know his name. All right. I'll wait." 
 
 Musing on the remarkable coincidence — which 
 seemed to prove beyond doubt that there still ex- 
 isted some connexion between the family of Quod- 
 ling and the titled house which he had heard of from 
 Mr Greenacre — he stood in the entrance-passage, and 
 looked out for five minutes through the glass door 
 at the fog-dimmed traffic of Norton Folgate. Then 
 a step sounded behind him. He moved aside and 
 saw a man in a heavy fur-lined overcoat, with a muf- 
 fler loose about his neck ; a thin, unhealthy-looking 
 man, with sharp eyes, rather blood-shot, which 
 turned timidly this way and that, and a high 
 bridged nose. As soon as he caught sight of the 
 face, Gammon drew himself up, every muscle strung. 
 The man observed him ; looked again, more fur- 
 tively ; stepped past to the door. 
 
 It took Gammon but a moment to dart into the 
 clerks' room, and ascertain that the person who had 
 just gone out was Lord Polperro. A moment more 
 and he was out in the street. The heavy-coated 
 and muflflered man was walking quickly southward; 
 he waved his umbrella to a passing cab, which, how- 
 ever, did not pull up. Gammon followed for thirty
 
 1 64 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 yards. Again the man hailed a cab, and this time 
 successfully. Just as he was about to step into the 
 vehicle, Gammon stood beside him. 
 " How do you do, Mr. Clover?"
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 POLLY SHOWS WEAKNESS. 
 
 It was spoken with quiet confidence. Gammon 
 smiled as he looked steadily into the pale, thin face, 
 which at once grew mottled with a disturbance of 
 the blood. 
 
 " You are making a mistake, sir," replied an in- 
 distinct voice, with an effort at dignity. 
 
 " Oh, no, not a bit of it. Not now I've heard 
 you speak, Mr. Clover," 
 
 " I don't understand you, sir," sounded more 
 clearly, the pallid visage now a muddy red, and the 
 eyes moist. " That is not my name. Be so good 
 as to go your way." 
 
 " Certainly. I just wanted to make sure, that's 
 all. No fuss. Good-morning, Mr. Clover." 
 
 Gammon drew back. He heard the order, " Char- 
 ing Cross," and the cab drove away. 
 
 After a moment or two of irresolution, Gammon 
 
 walked hurriedly to the nearest public-house, where 
 
 '^ he called for a glass of bitters and the directory. 
 
 With the former he slaked a decided dryness of the 
 
 throat ; the latter he searched eagerly in the section 
 
 i6s
 
 1 66 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 " Court " There it was ! " Polperro, Lord. i6, 
 Lowndes Mansions, Sloane Street. S. W. Junior 
 Ramblers's Club. Trefoyle, Liskeard, Cornwall." 
 
 By jorrocks ! 
 
 With thoughts turned to anything but the oil 
 and colour business, he returned to Quodlings', and 
 had his interview with the head of the firm. Mr. 
 Quodling senior was a gruff, heavy-featured man, 
 decidedly of coarse fibre ; when moved, he swore 
 with gusto, and it did not take much to put him 
 out. At present he was in an irritable mood, and — 
 very unlike his habit — gave scant attention to the 
 affair of which Gammon spoke. It would not have 
 improved his temper had he known that the town 
 traveller was amusing himself with the reflection 
 that there was no trace of personal resemblance be- 
 tween him and his brother Francis ; who, on the 
 other hand, bore a very strong likeness indeed to 
 — Lord Polperro. 
 
 As soon as he could get away, Gammon despatched 
 a telegram. It was to Miss Sparkes, whom he re- 
 quested to meet him at the theatre door that night, 
 when she left. " Something very important to tell 
 you." 
 
 This was done on a tell-tale impulse ; it showed 
 in what direction his mind most readily turned just 
 now. Thinking it over in the hours that followed, 
 he doubted whether, after all, he would tell Polly 
 exactly what had happened ; she could be useful to 
 him in the way he intended, without knowing more
 
 POLLY SHOWS WEAKNESS. 167 
 
 than she had discovered for herself. Doubt as to 
 the identity of Lord Polperro with Mrs. Clover's 
 husband he had none whatever ; face, voice, trick of 
 lips and eyebrows made mistake an impossibility ; 
 but he must bring the man into a position where 
 there would be no choice but to reveal himself, and, 
 so far as Gammon knew, no one but Polly could 
 help to that end. With Mrs. Clover he would com- 
 municate when the facts of the strange story were 
 made plain ; not yet awhile. And as for Greenacre, 
 why, it was splendid to have got beforehand with 
 that keen-scented fellow. The promise to keep 
 silence held good only whilst their search might be 
 hindered by some one's indiscretion ; now that the 
 search was over, he felt himself free to act as he 
 chose. 
 
 But what an astounding discovery ! Again and 
 again, by jorrocks ! 
 
 He was near the theatre long before his time. 
 He had never waited so long or so impatiently for 
 any one since the days of his first sweethearting, 
 twenty and odd years ago. When Polly at length 
 came out, she met him with a shyness and awkward- 
 ness which he fancied he perfectly understood. 
 
 " I want you to come with me where we can have a 
 quiet talk," he said at once, in a tone of eager cordial- 
 ity. " It's too wet for walking, we'll have a cab." 
 
 Polly gazed at him in unfeigned surprise, and 
 asked where they were to go. Not far — he replied ; 
 here was a cab ; in with her ! And before she could
 
 1 68 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 decide upon resistance, Polly was seated by him. 
 Gammon then explained that he had the use of a 
 sitting-room at a coffee tavern ; they would be there 
 in a minute or two. There was good news for her ; 
 news that couldn't be told in the street or in a 
 crowded restaurant. 
 
 " Did you get my letter ? " she asked, shrinking as 
 far from him as space allowed. 
 
 "Letter? When?" 
 
 " I posted it this morning," Polly answered in a 
 timidly sullen voice. 
 
 He had not been home since breakfast-time. 
 She had written to him? Now, wasn't that a queer 
 thing ! All yesterday he too had thought of writ- 
 ing, and to-day would have done so in any case. 
 Never mind ; the letter would be waiting for him. 
 Was it nice ? Was it sweet and amiable, like her- 
 self? Ha! ha! Ho! ho! 
 
 As he laughed, the cab drew up with a jerk. 
 Polly saw that she was in a familiar thoroughfare, 
 and in front of a respectable establishment, but it 
 was not without a little distrust that she entered by 
 the private door and went up-stairs. A large room, 
 so ugly and uncomfortable that it helped to reassure 
 her, was quickly lighted. Gammon requested the 
 woman in attendance to bring pen, ink, and paper, 
 whereat Polly again stared her surprise. 
 
 " Come and sit over here," said Gammon, " away 
 from the door. Now make yourself comfortable, 
 old girl. Sure you won't have anything?"
 
 POLLY SHOWS WEAKNESS. 169 
 
 The writing materials were brought ; the door 
 was closed. 
 
 " Now we're all right. A long time since we saw 
 each other, Polly. Have you heard anything? 
 Any more about Mr. C ? " 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " Well, look here now, I want you to write to 
 him. You didn't believe me when I said I knew. 
 Well, you'll believe me now. I want you to write 
 to him, and to ask him to meet you here. If he 
 won't come, I know what to do next. But you 
 just write a few lines, you know how. You want to 
 see him, at this coffee tavern, at five o'clock to- 
 morrow ; he's to come to the private door, and ask 
 for Miss— let's say Miss Ellis— that'll do. I shall 
 be here, but not in the room at first ; I'll come in 
 when you've had a little talk. I don't think he'll 
 refuse to come, when he sees you've got his address." 
 
 "What is the address?" 
 
 " Patience, my dear; wait till you've written the 
 letter. I'll walk up and down the room whilst you 
 do it." 
 
 He began pacing, but Polly made no movement 
 towards the table. She was strangely sullen, or 
 perhaps depressed ; not at all like herself, even 
 when in anger. She cast glances at her companion, 
 and seemed desirous of saying something, of making 
 some protest ; but her tongue failed her. 
 
 " No hurry," Gammon remarked, after humming 
 throughatune. ** Thinkit out. Only aline or two."
 
 1 70 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 " Are you telling me the truth about my letter ? " 
 she suddenly asked. " You haven't read it ? " 
 
 " I assure you I haven't. That's a treat for when 
 I get home." 
 
 Still she delayed, but before Gammon had taken 
 many more steps, she was seated at the table, and 
 biting the end of the penholder. 
 
 "You'll have to tell me what to say." 
 
 " All right. Take the words down." 
 
 He dictated, with all possible brevity. The letter 
 was folded and enclosed. Only in the last few 
 minutes had Gammon quite decided to share his 
 knowledge with Polly. As she bent her head and 
 wrote, something in the attitude — perhaps a sugges- 
 tion of domesticity — appealed to his emotions, 
 which were ready for such a juncture as this. After 
 all, there were not many girls prettier than Polly, 
 or with more of the attractiveness of their sex. He 
 looked, looked — till he could not turn away. 
 
 " Now then for the address. I'll write it on this 
 piece of paper, and you shall copy it." 
 
 Polly watched him, puzzled by the nervous grin 
 on his face. She took the paper, on which he had 
 written, as legibly as he could : 
 
 "Lord Polperro, 
 
 i6, Lowndes Mansions, 
 Sloane Street, 
 S. W. 
 
 and, having read it, she stared at him. 
 " What d'you mean?"
 
 POLLY SHOWS WEAKNESS 171 
 
 " That's the address." 
 
 " Are you making a fool of me ? " Polly exclaimed, 
 angry suspicion flashing in her eyes. 
 
 " I tell you, that's your uncle's address. Now be 
 careful, Polly ! I won't stand it a second time." 
 
 He was only half joking. Excitement tingled in 
 him, the kind of excitement which might lead either 
 to rage or caresses. He swayed now on one foot, 
 now on the other, as if preparing for a dance, and 
 his fists were clenched upon his hips. 
 
 " You mean to say that's his real name ? " cried 
 Polly, she too quivering and reddening. 
 
 " I do. — Now mind, Polly ! Mind what you say, 
 my girl ! I won't stand it a second time." 
 
 " Don't go on like a ijiot ! " exclaimed the girl, 
 starting up from her chair. " Of course I'll believe 
 it, if you tell me you're not kidding. And you mean 
 to say he's a Lord ? " 
 
 " See for yourself." 
 
 " And his name ain't Clover at all ? Then what's 
 my awnt's name ? " 
 
 "Why, Lady Polperro, of course! And Minnie 
 is — well, I don't exactly know, — Lady Minnie Pol- 
 perro, I suppose. And you — no, I don't think it 
 gives you a title ; but you see you are the niece of 
 Lord Polperro. Think of that, Polly ! You've got 
 a Lord for your uncle ! A Peer of the Realm ! " 
 
 He came nearer and nearer as he spoke, his eyes 
 distended with wild merriment, his arms swing, 
 ing.
 
 172 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 "And it's me that found it out, Polly! What 
 have you got to say for it? Eh, old girl? What 
 have you got to say ? " 
 
 Polly uttered a scream of laughter, and threw her- 
 self forward. Gammon's arms were ready; they 
 clasped her and hugged her, she not dreaming of 
 resistance — anything but that. Only when her face 
 was very red, and her hat all but off, and her hair 
 beginning to come loose, did she gently put him 
 away. 
 
 " That'll do— that's enough—" 
 
 "You mean it, don't you ? " asked Gammon, ten- 
 derly enfolding her waist. 
 
 " I s'pose so — it looks like it. That'll do ; let me 
 get my breath. What a silly you are ! " 
 
 " And were you fond of me all the time, Polly ? " 
 he whispered at her ear, as she sat down. 
 
 "I dessay — how do I know? It's quite certain 
 you wasn't fond of me, or you'd never have gone off 
 like you did that Sunday." 
 
 " Why, I've been fond of you for no end of a time ! 
 Haven't I showed it in lots of ways? You must 
 have known, and you did know." 
 
 " When you smashed my door in, and fought me ? " 
 asked Polly, with a shamefaced laugh. 
 
 "You don't think I'd have taken all that trouble, 
 if it hadn't been for the pleasure of carrying you 
 down-stairs ? " 
 
 " Go along ! " 
 
 " But there wasn't much love about you, Polly.
 
 POLLY SHOWS WEAKNESS 1 73 
 
 You hit jolly hard, old girl — and you kicked, and you 
 scratched — why, I've bruises yet ! " 
 
 " Serve you right ! — Do let me put my 'air and my 
 'at straight." 
 
 " I say Polly — " and he whispered something. 
 
 " I s'pose so — some day," was her answer, with 
 head bent over the hat she was smoothing into 
 shape. 
 
 " But won't you think yourself too good for me? 
 Remember, you've got a Lord for your uncle." 
 
 It returned upon both with the freshness of sur- 
 prise ; even Polly had quite lost sight of the start- 
 ling fact during the last few minutes. They looked 
 at the unaddressed letter ; they gazed into each 
 other's faces. 
 
 " You haven't gone and made a mistake ? " asked 
 Polly, in an awed undertone. 
 
 " There now ! You didn't think. You're begin- 
 ning to be sorry." 
 
 "No, I'm not." 
 
 " You are, I can see it." 
 
 " Oh, all right ! have it your own way ! I thought 
 you wouldn't be so sweet-tempered very long. 
 You're all alike, you men." 
 
 " Why, it's you that can't keep your temper ! " 
 shouted Gammon. " I only wanted to hear you say 
 it wouldn't make any difference, happen what 
 might." 
 
 "And didn't I say it wouldn't ? " shrilled Polly. 
 " What more can I say ? "
 
 174 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 Strangely enough, a real tear had started into her 
 eye. Gammon saw it and was at once remorseful. 
 He humbled himself before her ; he declared himself 
 a beast and a brute. Polly was a darling ; far too 
 good for him, too sweet and gentle and lovely. He 
 ought to think himself the happiest man living, by 
 jorrocks, if he oughtn't ! Just one more ! Why, he 
 liked a girl to have spirits ! He wouldn't give tup- 
 pence farthing for fifty girls that couldn't speak up 
 for themselves. And if she was the niece of a Lord, 
 why, she deserved it, and a good deal more. She 
 ought to be Lady Polly, straight away. And hanged 
 if he wouldn't call her so. 
 
 " Hadn't we better get this letter addressed?" 
 Polly asked, very amiable again. 
 
 "Yes; it's getting late I'm afraid." 
 
 Polly drew up the table, but her hand was so un- 
 steady that it cost her much trouble to manage the 
 pen. 
 
 " I've wrote it awful bad. Does it matter ? " 
 
 " Bad ? Why, it's beautifully written, Polly- 
 Lady Polly, I mean. I've got a stamp." 
 
 She stuck it on to the envelope, with an angle 
 upwards ; and Gammon declared that it was 
 beautifully done ; he never knew any one stamp 
 a letter so nicely. As she gazed at the com- 
 pleted missive, Polly had a sudden thought which 
 made a change in her countenance. She looked 
 round. 
 
 "What is it?"
 
 POLLY SHOWS WEAKNESS 1 75 
 
 " He hasn't got another wife, has he ? " 
 
 " Not likely," answered Gammon. " If so, he's 
 committed bigamy, and so much the worse for him. 
 Your aunt must have been his first — it was so long 
 ago." 
 
 "Couldn't you find out? Isn't there a book as 
 gives all about Lords and their families? I've 
 heard so." 
 
 " I believe there is," replied the other, thought 
 fully. " I'll get a look at it somewhere. He's scamp 
 enough for anything, I've no doubt. He comes 
 of a bad lot, Polly. There's all sorts of queer 
 stories about his father — at least, I suppose it was 
 his father." 
 
 " Tell me some," said Polly, with eagerness. 
 
 " Oh, I will some day. But now I come to think 
 of it, I don't know when he became Lord Polperro. 
 He couldn't, of course, till the death of his father. 
 Most likely the old man was alive when he married 
 your aunt. It's easy to understand now, why he's 
 led such a queer life, isn't it? I shouldn't a bit 
 wonder if he went away the second time because 
 his father had died. I'll find out about it. Would 
 you believe, when I met him in the street and spoke 
 to him, he pretended he'd never heard such a name 
 as Clover ? " 
 
 " You met him, did you ? When?" 
 
 " Oh— I'll tell you all about that afterwards. It's 
 getting late. We shall have lots of talk. You'll 
 let me take you home? We'll have a cab, shall
 
 176 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 we? Lady Pollys don't walk about the streets 
 on a wet night." 
 
 She stood in thought. 
 " I want you to do something for me." 
 "Right you are! Tell me, and I'll do it like a 
 shot, see if I don't." 
 
 His arm again encircled her, and this time Polly 
 did not talk of her 'at or her 'air. Indeed, she bent 
 her head, half hiding her face against him. 
 " You know that letter I sent you — " 
 " What's in it? Something nicey-picey ?" 
 " I want you to let me go to the 'ouse with you 
 — just to the door — and I want you to give me that 
 letter back — just as it is — without opening it. You 
 will, won't you, deary ? " 
 
 " Of course, I will, if you really mean it." 
 "I do ; it was a narsty letter. I couldn't bear to 
 have you read it now." 
 
 Gammon had no difificulty in imagining the kind 
 of epistle which Polly would desire suppressed ; 
 yet, for some obscure reason, he would rather have 
 read it. But his promise was given. Polly, in turn, 
 promised to write another letter for him as soon as 
 possible. 
 
 So they drove in a hansom, through a night 
 which washed the fog away, to Kennington Road, 
 and, whilst Polly kept her place in the vehicle. 
 Gammon ran up-stairs. There lay the letter, on his 
 dressing-table. He hastened down with it, and 
 before handing it to its writer, kissed the envelope.
 
 POLLY SHOWS WEAKNESS 1 77 
 
 " Go along ! " exclaimed Polly, in high good- 
 humour, as she reached out with eager fingers. 
 
 Late as it was, he accompanied her to Shaftes- 
 bury Avenue, and they parted tenderly, after having 
 come to an agreement about the next evening. 
 
 12
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 LORD POLPERRO'S REPRESENTATIVE 
 
 By discreet inquiry, Mr. Gammon procured an 
 introduction to " Debrett," who supplied him with 
 a great deal of information. In the first place, he 
 learned that the present Lord Polperro, fourth of that 
 title, was not the son but the brother of the Lord 
 Polperro preceding him ; both being offspring, it 
 was plain, of the peer whose will occasioned a law- 
 suit some forty years ago. Granted the truth of 
 scandalous rumour, which had such remarkable sup- 
 ports in facial characteristics, the present bearer of 
 the title would be in fact half-brother to Francis 
 Quodling, Again, it was discoverable that the Lord 
 Polperro of to-day succeeded to the barony in the 
 very year of Mrs. Clover's husband's second disap- 
 pearance. 
 
 " Just what I said," was Gammon's mental com- 
 ment as he thumped the aristocratic pages. 
 
 Now for the women. To begin with. Lord Pol- 
 perro was set down a bachelor — ha ! ha ! Then, he 
 had one sister. Miss Adela Trefoyle, older than 
 
 himself ; and that might very well be the lady who 
 178
 
 LORD POLPERRO'S REPRESENTATIVE 1 79 
 
 was seen beside him at the theatre. Then again, 
 though his elder brother's male children had died, 
 there was living a daughter, by name Adeline, re- 
 cently wedded to — by jorrocks ! — Lucian Gilder- 
 sleeve, Esquire. Why here was " the whole boiling 
 of 'em ! " 
 
 Mr. Gammon eagerly jotted down the particulars 
 in his note-book, and swallowed the whisky at his 
 side with gusto. Not once, however, had he asked 
 himself why this man of guiles and freaks chose to 
 mask under the name of Clover ; an omission to be 
 accounted for not by any lack of wit but by mere 
 educational defect. He could not have been further 
 from suspecting that his utterance of the name 
 Clover had given his genealogical friend a most im- 
 portant clue, and a long start in the search for the 
 missing man. 
 
 Impatiently he awaited the early nightfall of the 
 morrow. Business had to be attended to as usual, 
 but he went about with a bearing of extraordinary 
 animation ; now laughing to himself, now snapping 
 his fingers, now (when he chanced to be out of 
 people's sight) twirling round on one leg. Either 
 of yesterday's events would have sufficed to ex- 
 hilarate him ; together, they whipped his blood and 
 frothed his fancy. He had found Clover — who was a 
 lord ! He had won the love of Polly Sparkes — who 
 was the finest girl living ! Did ever the bagman 
 of an oil and colour firm speed about his duties with 
 such springs of excitement bubbling within him?
 
 l8o THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 And Mrs. Clover ? Ought she not to be told at 
 once ? Had he any right to keep to himself such 
 a discovery as this ? He knew, by police-court 
 precedent, that a false name in marriage did not in- 
 validate the contract. Beyond shadow of doubt, 
 Mrs Clover was Lady Polperro. And Minnie — why 
 suppose Minnie had favoured his suit ; he would 
 have been son-in-law of a peer ! As it was, whom 
 might not the girl marry ! She would pass from 
 the neighbourhood of Battersea Park Road to a 
 house in May Fair or Belgravia ; from Doulton's 
 and the china-shop to unimaginable heights of social 
 dignity. And who more fit for the new sphere ? 
 Mr Gammon sighed — but in a moment remembered 
 Polly, and snapped his fingers. 
 
 A little before five o'clock he was hovering within 
 sight of the coffee tavern, which already threw 
 radiance into the murky and muddy street. In a 
 minute or two he saw Polly, and exchanged a quick 
 word with her. 
 
 ** Up you go ! You'll find all ready. If he comes 
 I shall see him, and I'll look in when you've had a 
 little talk." 
 
 Polly disappeared, and Mr. Gammon again hovered. 
 But who was this approaching ? Of all unwelcome 
 people at this moment — hanged if it wasn't Green- 
 acre ! What did the fellow want here ? He was 
 staring about him, as if to make sure of an address. 
 Worse than that, he stepped up to the private door 
 of the coffee tavern, and rang the bell.
 
 LORD POLPERRO'S REPRESENTATIVE l8l 
 
 Shrinking aside into darkness, Gammon felt a 
 shiver of unaccountable apprehension, which was 
 qnickly followed by a thrill of angry annoyance. 
 What did this mean ? The door had'opened ; Green- 
 acre was admitted. What the devil did this mean ? 
 If it wasn't enough to make a fellow want to wring 
 another fellow's neck ! 
 
 He waited thirty seconds, thinking it was five 
 minutes ; then went to the door, rang, and en- 
 tered. 
 
 " Who came in just now, miss? " 
 
 " The gentleman for the young lady, sir." 
 
 " By jorrocks ! " 
 
 Gammon mounted the stairs at break-neck speed, 
 and burst into the private sitting-room. There stood 
 Polly, with her head up, looking pert indignation 
 and surprise ; and before her stood Greenacre, dis- 
 coursing in his politest tone. 
 
 "What are you doing here?" asked Gammon, 
 breathlessly. " What are you up to, eh ? " 
 
 " Ah, Gammon, how do you do ? I'm glad you've 
 dropped in. Let us sit down, and have a quiet 
 talk." 
 
 The man of mystery was very well dressed, very 
 cool, more than equal to the situation. He took 
 for granted the perfect friendliness of both Polly and 
 Gammon ; smiled from one to the other ; and, as 
 he seated himself, drew out a cigarette case. 
 
 *' I'm sure Miss Sparkes won't mind — I have 
 already apologised, Gammon, for the necessity of
 
 l82 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 introducing myself. You, I am sure, will forgive 
 me, when you learn the position of affairs. I'm so 
 glad you happened to drop in." 
 
 Declining a cigarette. Gammon stared about him 
 in angry confusion. He had no words ready. Green- 
 acre's sang-froid, through it irritated him excessively, 
 shamed him into quiet behaviour. 
 
 " When you entered, Gammon, I was just explain- 
 ing to Miss Sparkes that I am here on behalf of her 
 uncle, Lord Polperro." 
 
 "Oh, you are? And how do you come to know 
 him?" 
 
 " Singular accident. The kind of thing that is 
 constantly happening in London. Lord Polperro 
 is living next door to an old friend of mine — a man 
 I haven't seen for some seven or eight years, till 
 the other day. I happened to hear of my friend's 
 address, called upon him, and there met his lord- 
 ship. Now wasn't it a strange thing. Gammon ? 
 Just when you and I were so interested in a certain 
 puzzle — a delightful bit of genealogy. Lord Pol- 
 perro and I quite took to each other. He seemed 
 to like my chat and — in fact we have been seeing a 
 good deal of each other for a week or two." 
 
 " You kept this to yourself, Greenacre." 
 
 " For a sufficient reason — anything but a selfish 
 one. You, I may remark, also made a discovery 
 and kept it to yourself." 
 
 *' It was my own business." 
 
 " Certainly. Don't dream that I find fault with
 
 LORD POLPERRO'S REPRESENTATIVE 1 83 
 
 you, my dear fellow. It was the most natural thing 
 in the world. Now let me explain. I grieve to tell 
 you that Lord Polperro is in very poor health. To 
 be explicit, he is suffering from a complication of 
 serious disorders, among them disease of the heart." 
 He paused, to let his announcement have its full 
 effect. " You will understand why I am here to rep- 
 resent him. Lord Polperro dare not, simply dare 
 not, expose himself to an agitating interview ; it 
 might — it probably would — cost him his life. Miss 
 Sparkes, I am sure you would not like to see your 
 noble relative fall lifeless at your feet ? " 
 
 Polly looked at Gammon, who, in spite of wrath, 
 could not help smiling. 
 
 " He didn't do it in Lincoln's Inn Fields, Green- 
 acre." 
 
 " He did not ; but I very greatly fear that those 
 meetings — of course I have heard of them — helped 
 to bring about the crisis under which he is now 
 suffering. As also did a certain other meeting 
 which you will- recollect, Gammon. Pray tell me; 
 did Lord Polperro seem to you in robust health?" 
 
 " Can't say he did. Looked jolly seedy." 
 " Precisely. Acting on my advice he has left 
 town for a few days. I shall join him to-morrow, 
 and do my best to keep up his spirits. You will 
 now see the necessity for using great caution, great 
 consideration, in this strange affair. We can be 
 quite frank with each other, Gammon, and of course 
 we have no secrets from my new and valued friend
 
 1^4 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 ^f she will let me call her so — Miss Polly Sparkes. 
 One has but to look at Miss Sparkes to see the 
 sweetness and thoughtfulness of her disposition. 
 Come, now, we are going to make a little plot to- 
 gether, to act for the best. I am sure we do not wish 
 Lord Pelperro's death. I am sure you do not, Miss 
 Sparkes. * 
 
 Polly again looked at Gammon and muttered that 
 of course she didn't. Gammon grinned. Feeling 
 sure of his power to act independently, if need were, 
 he began to see the jocose side of things. 
 
 " One question I should like to ask," continued 
 Greenacre, lighting a second cigarette. " Has Mrs. 
 Clover — as we will continue to call her, with an im- 
 plied apology — been informed yet ? " 
 
 " I haven't told her," said Gammon frankly. 
 
 "And I'm sure /haven't," added Polly, who had 
 begun to observe Mr. Greenacre with a less hostile 
 eye, and was recovering her native vivacity. 
 
 Greenacre looked satisfied. 
 
 "Then I think you have acted very wisely indeed, 
 — as one might have expected from Miss Sparkes. 
 I don't mean I shouldn't have expected it from you 
 too, Gammon ; but you and I are not on ceremony, 
 old man. Now let me have your attention. We 
 begin by admitting that Lord Polperro has put 
 himself in a very painful position. Painful, let me 
 tell you, in every sense. Lord Polperro desires 
 nothing so much — nothing so much — as to be re- 
 united to his family. He longs for the society of
 
 LORD POLPERRO'S REPRESENTATIVE 1 8$ 
 
 his wife and daughter. What more natural in a 
 man who feels that'his days are numbered I Lord Pol- 
 perro bitterly laments the follies of his life ; which 
 are explained, Gammon, as you and I know, by the 
 character he inherited. We know the peculiarities 
 of the Trefoyle family. Some of them I must not 
 refer to in the presence of a young lady such as 
 Miss Sparkes." Polly looked at her toes and 
 smirked. " But Lord Polperro's chief fault seems 
 to have been an insuperable restlessness which 
 early took the form of a revolt against the habits 
 and prejudicies of aristocratic life. Knowing so 
 much of that life myself, I must say that I under- 
 stand him , that to a certain extent I sympathise 
 with him. When a youth he desired the Hberty of 
 a plebeian station, and sought it under disguises. 
 You must remember that at that time, he had very 
 little prospect of ever succeeding to the title. Let 
 me give you a little genealogy. 
 
 " Needn't trouble," put in Gammon. " I know it 
 all. Got it out of a book. I'll tell you afterwards, 
 Polly." 
 
 " Ah, got it out of a book ? Why, you are be- 
 coming quite a genealogist, Gammon. I need only 
 say, then, that he did not give a thought to the title. 
 He chose to earn his own bread, and live his own 
 life, like ordinary mortals. He took the name of 
 Clover. Of course you see why." 
 
 " Hanged if I do," said Gammon. 
 
 " Why, my dear fellow, are not clover and trefoil
 
 l86 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 the same things? Don't you see? Trefoyle. 
 Only a little difference of accent." 
 
 " Never heard the word. Did you, Polly?" 
 
 " Not me." 
 
 "Ah! not unnatural. An out-of-the-way word," 
 Greenacre hid his contempt beneath a smile. " Well 
 now, I repeat that Lord Polperro longs to return to 
 the bosom of his family. He has even gone in the 
 darkness of the night to look at his wife's abode, 
 and returned home in misery. A fact ! At this 
 moment — your attention, I beg — I am assisting 
 him to form a plan by which he will be enabled to 
 live a natural life without the unpleasantness of 
 public gossip. I do not yet feel at liberty to de- 
 scribe our project, but it is ripening. What I ask 
 you is this. Will you trust us ? Miss Sparkes, have 
 I your confidence ? " 
 
 " It's all very well," threw in Gammon, before 
 Polly could reply. " But what if he drops down 
 dead, as you say he might do ? What about his 
 family then ? " 
 
 " Gammon," replied the other, with great solem- 
 nity, " I asked whether I had your confidence. Do 
 you, or do you not, believe me when I tell you that 
 Lord Polperro has long since executed a will by 
 which not only are his wife and his daughter amply 
 — most amply — provided for, but even more distant 
 relatives on his wife's side?" 
 
 He gazed impressively at Miss Sparkes, whose 
 eyes twinkled as she turned with a jerk to Gammon,
 
 LORD POLPERRO'S REPRESENTATIVE 1 87 
 
 " Look here, Greenacre," exclaimed the man of 
 commerce, let's be business-like. I may trust 
 you or I may not. What I want to know is, how 
 long are we to wait before he comes to the shop 
 down yonder and behaves like an honest man ? 
 Just fix a date and I'll make a note of it." 
 
 " My dear Gammon — " 
 
 " Go ahead ! " 
 
 " I cannot fix a date on my own responsibility. It 
 depends so greatly on his lordship's health. I can 
 only assure you that, at the earliest possible moment, 
 Lady Polperro will be summoned to an interview 
 with her husband — By the by, I trust her ladyship 
 is quite well ? " 
 
 " Oh, shes all right," replied Gammon impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 " And the Honourable Minnie Trefoyle — she too 
 enjoys good health, I trust?" 
 
 Polly and Gammon exchanged a stare, followed by 
 laughter which was a little forced on the man's part. 
 
 "That's Miss Clover," he remarked. "Sounds 
 queer, doesn't it ? " 
 
 "That's her real name? " cried Polly. 
 
 " Indeed it is, Miss Sparkes," replied Greenacre. 
 " But let me remind you — if it is not impertinent — 
 that beauty and grace can very well afford to dis- 
 pense with titles. I think, Gammon, you and I 
 know a case in point." 
 
 Polly tossed her head and shuffled her feet, well 
 pleased with the men's laughter.
 
 l88 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 " And if it comes to that," Greenacre pursued." I 
 don't mind saying, Gammon, that I suspect you to 
 be a confoundedly lucky and enviable dog. May I 
 congratulate him. Miss Sparkes? " 
 
 " Oh, you can if you like, Mr. 1 forget your 
 
 name." 
 
 " I do so then. Gammon. I congratulate you, 
 and I envy you. Heigh-ho ! I'm a lonely bachelor 
 myself. Miss Sparkes — no, hang it. Miss Polly. 
 You may well look pityingly at me." 
 
 " I'm sure I didn't, Mr. Ican't remember your 
 
 name," answered Polly, with a delighted giggle. 
 
 " See here, Greenacre," Gammon interposed gen- 
 ially. " Miss Sparkes and I will have to talk this 
 over. Mind you, I give no promise. I found out 
 for myself who Mr, Clover was and I hold myself 
 free to do what I think fit. You quite under- 
 stand ? " 
 
 Greenacre nodded absently. Then he cleared his 
 throat. 
 
 " I quite understand, my dear boy. I should like 
 just to remind you that there's really nothing to be 
 gained, one way or the other, by interfering with 
 Lord Polperro before he has made his plans. The 
 ladies would in no way be benefited, and it's very 
 certain no one else would be. No doubt you'll bear 
 that in mind." 
 
 " Of course I shall. You may take it from me, 
 Greenacre, that I'm tolerably wide-awake — Can I 
 still address you at the Bilboes ? "
 
 LORD POLPERRO'S REPRESENTATIVE 1 89 
 
 " You can," was the grave and dignified reply. 
 " And now — as I happen to have an appointment 
 at the other end of the town — I really must say 
 good-bye. I repeat, Miss Sparkes, you may trust 
 me absolutely. I have your interests and those of 
 my friend Gammon, — the same thing now — thor- 
 oughly at heart. You will hear from his lordship, 
 Miss Sparkes — no, hang it, Miss Polly. You will 
 very soon have a line from his lordship, who, I may 
 venture to say, is really attached to you. He speaks 
 of you all most touchingly. Good evening. Miss 
 Polly, not good-bye ; we are to meet again very soon. 
 And who knows all the happy changes that are 
 before you ! — Ta-ta, Gammon. Rely upon me ; I 
 never failed a friend yet." 
 
 So saying he took his leave with bows and flour- 
 ishes. Shortly after, Polly and Gammon went into 
 the superior room of the tavern and had tea together, 
 talking at a great rate, one as excited as the other. 
 Miss Sparkes being already attired for her evening 
 duties, they parted only when they were obliged to 
 do so, agreeing to meet again when Polly left the 
 theatre. 
 
 To pass this interval of time, Mr. Gammon dropped 
 into a music-hall. He wished to meditate on 
 what had come to his knowledge. Had it not been 
 that Lord Polperro was, in a sense, a public insti- 
 tution, and could not escape him, he would have 
 felt uneasy about the doings of that remarkable fel- 
 low Greenacre ; as it was, he preferred to muse on
 
 190 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 the advantages certain to befall Minnie and her 
 mother, and perchance Polly Sparkes. After all, the 
 niece of a Lord must benefit substantially by the 
 connexion, and, by consequence, that young lady's 
 husband. No one could have been freer from sec- 
 ondary motives than he, when he found himself 
 falling in love with Polly ; and if it turned out a 
 marriage of unforeseen brilliancy, why, so much the 
 better. Polly had not altered towards him — dear, 
 affectionate girl that she was ! He would act hon- 
 ourably ; she should have the chance of reconsider- 
 ing her position ; but — 
 
 A damsel sparingly clad was singing in the serio- 
 comic vein, with a dance after each stanza. As he 
 sipped his whisky, and watched and listened. Gam- 
 mon felt his heart glow within him. The melody 
 was lulling ; it had a refrain of delicious sentiment. 
 The listener's eyes grew moist ; there rose a lump 
 in his throat. Dear Polly! Lovely Polly ! Would 
 he not cherish her to the day of his death ! How 
 could he have fancied that he loved any one else? 
 Darling Polly ! 
 
 When the singer withdrew, he clapped violently, 
 and thereupon called for another Scotch, hot with 
 lemon. 
 
 As a matter of course, a friend soon discovered 
 him, a man who declared himself in a whisper 
 " stonebroke," and said, after a glass of the usual 
 beverage, that if the truth must be told he had 
 looked in here this evening to save himself from the
 
 LORD POLPERRO'S REPRESENTATIVE IQI 
 
 torments of despair. Three young children, and 
 the missus just going to have another. Did Gam- 
 mon know of any opening in the cork line ? 
 
 "Afraid not," rephed the traveller, "but I know 
 a man out Hoxton way who's pushing a new lamp- 
 glass cleaner. You might give him a look in. It 
 goes well, I'm told in the eastern suburbs." 
 
 Presently a coin of substantial value passed from 
 Gammon's pocket into that of his gloomy friend. 
 
 " Poor devil ! " said the good fellow to himself. 
 " He married a tripe-dresser's daughter, and she 
 nags him. Never had a chance to marry a jolly 
 little girl who turned out to have a Lord for her 
 uncle ! " 
 
 So he drank and applauded and piped his eye and 
 drank again, till it was time to meet Polly. When 
 he went forth into the cold street, never was man 
 more softly amorous, more mirthfully exultant, 
 more kindly disposed to all the dwellers upon earth. 
 Life abounds in such modes of happiness, — yet we 
 are told that it is a sad and sorry affair !
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 NOT IN THE SECRET 
 
 Since his adventure in knight-errantry, Chris- 
 topher Parish had suffered terrible alternations of 
 hope and despair. For fear of offending Miss 
 Sparkes, he did not press for an explanation of the 
 errand on which she had sent him ; enough that he 
 was again permitted to see her, to entertain her 
 modestly, and to hold her attention whilst he dis- 
 coursed on the glories of the firm of Swettenham. 
 Every week supplied him with new and astounding 
 Swettenham statistics. He was able to report as 
 "an absolute fact," that a junior member of the 
 firm— a junior, mind you-^was building a house at 
 Eastbourne which would cost him, all told, not one 
 penny less than sixty-five thousand pounds ! He 
 would like to see that house ; in fact he must see it. 
 When Easter came round, would Miss Sparkes 
 honour him with her company on a day-trip to East- 
 bourne, that they might gaze together on the ap- 
 palling mansion? 
 
 " P'r'aps," replied Polly. " If you're good." 
 Whereat Mr. Parish perspired with ecstasy, and 
 
 began at once to plan the details of the outing. 
 192
 
 NOT IN THE SECRET 193 
 
 Indeed, Polly was very gracious to him, and pres- 
 ently something happened which enhanced her 
 graciousness, — perhaps increased her genuine liking 
 for the amiable young man. Her friend Miss Wag- 
 horn was about to be married to Mr. Nibby. It 
 was a cheerless time of the year for a wedding, but 
 Mr. Nibby had just come in for a little legacy, on 
 the strength of which he took a house in a south- 
 east suburb and furnished it, on the hire system, 
 with a splendour which caused Miss Waghorn to 
 shriek in delight, and severely tested the magnani- 
 mity of Polly's friendship. Polly was to be bride's- 
 maid, and must needs have a becoming dress ; but 
 where was it to come from ? Her perfidious uncle 
 had vanished (she knew not yet who that uncle 
 really was), and her " tips " of late had been — in 
 Polly's language — measley. In the course of friendly 
 chat she mentioned to Mr. Parish that the wedding 
 was for that day week, and added, with head aside, 
 that she couldn't imagine what she was going to 
 wear. 
 
 " I shall patch up some old dress, I s'pose. Lucky 
 it's dark weather." 
 
 Christopher became meditative, and seemed to 
 shirk the subject. But on the morrow there ar- 
 rived for Polly a letter addressed in his handwriting ; 
 an envelope rather, which contained two postal 
 orders, each for one pound, but not a word on the 
 paper enfolding them. 
 
 " Well, there now," cried Polly within herself, 
 '3
 
 194 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 " if that ain't gentlemanly of him ! Who'd *a* 
 thought it ! And me just going to put my bracelet 
 away ! " 
 
 By which she meant that she was about to pawn 
 her jewellery to procure a bridesmaid's dress. Grat- 
 itude, for the moment, quite overcame her. She 
 sat down and wrote a letter of thanks, so worded 
 that the recipient was beside himself for a whole 
 day. He, in turn, wrote a letter of three full sheets, 
 wherein, among other lyrical extravagances, he ex- 
 pressed a wish that by dying a death of slow torture 
 he could endow Miss Sparkes with fabulous wealth. 
 How gladly would he perish, knowing that she 
 would come to lay artificial flowers upon his grave, 
 and to the end of her life see that the letters on his 
 tombstone were kept legible ! 
 
 So Polly made a handsome appearance at the 
 wedding. As a matter of fact, she came near to 
 exciting unpleasantness between bride and bride- 
 groom, so indiscreet was Mr. Nibby in his spoken 
 and silent admiration. After consuming a great 
 deal of indifferent champagne at Mr. Nibby 's lodg- 
 ings, the blissful couple departed to spend a week 
 at Bournemouth, and Polly returned to the room in 
 Shaftesbury Avenue, which henceforth she would 
 occupy alone. " And a good riddance ! " she said 
 to herself, pettishly, as she stripped off her wedding 
 garments. 
 
 On this very evening she wrote to Mr. Gammon 
 — the letter he was never to read.
 
 NOT IN THE SECRET 1 95 
 
 Mr. Gammon had received an invitation to the 
 ceremony, but, through pressure of business, was 
 unable to accept it. He felt, too, that there would 
 have been awkwardness in thus meeting with Polly 
 for the first time since their rupture on the Em- 
 bankment. Polly of course concluded that he kept 
 away solely because he did not wish to see her. In 
 the mood induced by this reflection and by the 
 turbid emotions natural to such a day, she penned 
 her farewell to the insulting and perfidious man. 
 Mr. Gammon was informed that never and nowhere 
 would Miss Sparkes demean herself by exchanging 
 another word with him ; that he was a low and vul- 
 gar and ignorant person, without manners enough 
 for a road-scraper ; moreover, that she had long since 
 been the object of sincere attentions from some one 
 so vastly his superior that they were not to be 
 named in the same month. This overflow of feel- 
 ing was some relief, but Polly could not rest until 
 she had also written to Mrs. Clover. She made 
 known to her aunt that Mr. Gammon had of late 
 been guilty of such insolent behaviour to her, the 
 writer, that she had serious thoughts of seeking pro- 
 tection from the police. " As he is such a great 
 friend of yours and Minnie's, I thought I had better 
 warn you. Perhaps you might like to try and teach 
 him better behaviour, though I can't say as/<?« are 
 the person to do it. And you may be pleased to 
 hear that I should not wonder if I am shortly to be 
 married to a geyitl&tnan which it won't surprise you.
 
 196 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 after that if I am unable to see anything more of 
 you and your family." 
 
 But for a violent storm which broke out after 
 eleven that night, just as she finished these compo- 
 sitions, Polly would have posted them forthwith, 
 and Mr. Gammon would in that case have received 
 his letter by the first post next morning. As it 
 was, they remained in Polly's room all night ; and 
 only an hour or two after their actual dispatch came 
 the fateful telegram, which was to make such a rev- 
 olution in Miss Sparkes' sentiments and prospects. 
 Mrs. Clover duly received her missive, and gave a 
 good deal of thought to it. Being a woman of some 
 self-command, she spoke no word of the matter to 
 Minnie ; nor, though greatly tempted, did she pen 
 a reply. But in a few days she sent a quiet invita- 
 tion to Polly's father, desiring the pleasure of his 
 company at tea on Sunday. 
 
 Mr. Sparkes came. He^ was in very low spirits ; 
 for during the past week Chaffey's had disgraced 
 itself (if Chaff ey's could now be disgraced) by sup- 
 plying a supper at eighteenpence per head, exclusive 
 of liquors, to certain provincial representatives of 
 the Rag, Bone and Bottle Dealers' Alliance, in town 
 for the purpose of attending a public meeting. 
 He called it 'art-breaking, he did. The long and 
 short of it was, he must prepare himself — and 
 Chaffey's — for the inevitable farewell. Why, it 
 wasn't as if they had supplied the rag-tags with 2. good 
 supper ! You should have seen the stuff put before
 
 NOT IN THE SECRET 197 
 
 them ; every blessed dish a hash-up of leavings and 
 broken-meats ! No man with a vestige or self-re- 
 spect could continue to wait at such entertainments. 
 And this amid the gilding and the plush and the 
 marble-topped tables, which sickened one with their 
 surface imitation of real rest'rants. 
 
 " Wouldn't you like to retire into private life, 
 Ebenezer?" asked his hostess. "I'm sure you 
 could — couldn't you ? " 
 
 " Well, Louisa," he replied, with hesitation, " if 
 it comes to that, I could. But I 'ardly know how I 
 should spend my time." 
 
 The conversation turned to the subject of Polly, 
 and — as they were alone together — Mrs. Clover ex- 
 hibited the letter she had received from that young 
 lady. 
 
 " Now what have you to say to that, Ebenezer? 
 Don't you call it shameful ? " 
 
 Mr. Sparkes sighed deeply. 
 
 " I've warned her, Louisa. I've warned her 
 solemn. What more can I do ? " 
 
 " You see how she goes on about Mr. Gammon. 
 Now, I'm as sure as I am of anything that it's all 
 lies. I dont believe Mr. Gammon has insulted her. 
 There was something happened before she left Mrs. 
 Bubb's — a bit of unpleasantess there's no need to 
 talk about, — but I'm as sure as I sit here, Ebenezer, 
 that Mr. Gammon wouldn't insult any girl in the 
 way Polly says." 
 
 ** Why don't you ask him ? **
 
 iqS the town traveller 
 
 Mrs. Clover glanced at the door and betrayed 
 uneasiness, 
 
 " To tell you the truth, he doesn't come here just 
 now. You won't let it go any further, Ebenezer, 
 but, the truth is he began to take a sort of fancy to 
 Minnie ; and he told me about it, just as he ought 
 to *a' done ; and I had to tell him plain that it wasn't 
 a bit of use. For one thing Minnie was too young ; 
 and what's more, she hadn't even given half a 
 thought to him in that way, and I wouldn't have 
 the child worried about such things. Because, as 
 you know, she's delicate and it doesn't take much 
 to upset her in her mind, and then she can't sleep 
 at nights. So I told Mr. Gammon plain and straight, 
 and he took it in the right spirit, but he hasn't 
 been here since. And I'm as sure as anything that 
 Polly's letter is a nasty, mean bit of falsehood, — 
 though I'm sorry to have to say it to you, Ebenezer." 
 
 Mr. Sparkes had the beginning of a cold in the 
 head, which did not tend to make him cheerful. 
 Sitting by the fireside, very upright in his decent 
 suit of Sunday black, he looked more than ever 
 like a clergyman ; perchance a curate who is grow- 
 ing old without a hope of a benefice. Fortunately, 
 there entered about tea-time a young man in much 
 better spirits, evidently a welcome friend of Mrs. 
 Clover's, his name was Nelson. On his arrival, 
 Minnie joined the company, and it would have been 
 remarked by any one with an interest in the affairs 
 of the family, that Mrs. Clover was not at all re-
 
 NOT IN THE SECRET IQQ 
 
 luctant to see her daughter and this young man 
 amiably conversing. Mr, Nelson had something 
 not unlike the carriage and tone of a gentleman ; 
 he talked quietly, though light-heartedly, and from 
 remarks he let fall it appeared that he was somehow 
 connected with the decorative arts. Minnie and 
 he dropped into a discussion of some new ceramic 
 design put forth by Doulton's ; they seemed to 
 understand each other and grew more animated 
 as they exchanged opinions. The hostess, mean- 
 while, kept glancing at them with a smile of benevo- 
 ence. 
 
 At the tea-table, Mr. Nelson gratified Mr. Sparkes 
 by an allusion to almost the only topic — apart from 
 Chaffey's — which could draw that grave man into 
 continuous speech. Mr, Sparkes had but one recre- 
 ation, that of angling ; for many years he had de- 
 voted such hours of summer leisure as Chaffey's 
 granted him to piscatory excursions, were it only as 
 far as the Welsh Harp. Finding this young man 
 disposed to lend a respectful ear, and to venture in- 
 telligent questions, he was presently discoursing at 
 large. 
 
 " Chub? Why, chub's a kind of carp, don't you 
 see ? There's no fish pulls 'arder than a chub, not 
 in the ordinary way of fishing. A chub, he'll pull 
 just like a little pig ; he will indeed, if you believe 
 me." 
 
 " And a jack, uncle," put in Minnie, who liked to 
 please the old man. " Doesn't a jack pull hard ? "
 
 200 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 " Well, it's like this, my dear ; it depends on the 
 bottom, when it's a jack. If the bottom is weedy, 
 see ? — you must keep your line tight, on a jack. 
 Let him run and you're as like as not to lose thirty 
 or forty yards of your line." 
 
 " And the lines are expensive, aren't they, uncle ? " 
 
 " Well, my dear, I give eighteen and six for my 
 preserved jack line — hundred yards, eighteen and 
 six! 
 
 There followed one of his old stories, of a jack 
 which had been eating up young ducklings on a 
 certain pond ; how he had baited for this fellow 
 with a live duckling, the hook through the tips of 
 its wings, — got him in twenty minutes, — and he 
 turned the scale at four-and-twenty pounds. Roach 
 and perch were afterwards discussed. In Mr. 
 Sparkes' opinion, the best bait for these fish was a 
 bit of dough kneaded up with loose wool. ChafTey's 
 — at all events, Chaffey's of to-day — would not 
 have known its head-waiter could it have seen and 
 heard him as he thus held forth. The hostess 
 showed a fear lest Mr. Nelson should have more 
 than enough of cockney angling ; but he and Minnie 
 were at one in good-natured attentiveness and in 
 the end Mrs. Clover overcame her uneasiness. 
 
 A few days after this, Minnie's mother, overcom- 
 ing a secret scruple and yielding to a long desire, 
 allowed herself to write a letter to Mr. Gammon. 
 It was a very simple, not ill-composed, letter ; its 
 object to express regret for the ill-temper she had
 
 NOT IN THE SECRET 20I 
 
 shown, now many weeks ago, on her parting with 
 Mr. Gammon in Kennington Road. Would he not 
 look in at the china-shop, just in the old way ? It 
 would please her very much, for indeed she had 
 never meant or dreamt a termination to their friend- 
 ship. They had known each other so long ; would 
 not Mr. Gammon overlook her foolishness, re- 
 membering all she had had to go through ? So she 
 signed herself his " friend always the same," and, 
 having done so, looked at the last line rather timidly, 
 and made haste to close the letter. 
 
 An answer arrived without undue delay, and Mrs. 
 Clover went apart to read it ; her breath quicker 
 than usual, and her fingers tremulous. Mr. Gammon 
 wrote with unfeigned cordiality — just like himself. 
 He hoped to call very soon, though it might still 
 be a few weeks. There was nothing to forgive on 
 his part ; he wasn't such a fool as to be angry with 
 an old friend for a few hasty words. But the truth 
 was he had a lot of business on his hands ; he was 
 doing his best to get into a permanency at Quod- 
 ling's of Norton Folgate, and he knew Mrs. Clover 
 would be glad to hear that. Let her give his 
 kind regards to Miss Minnie, and believe him when 
 he said that he was just as friendly disposed as 
 ever. 
 
 Beneath these words Mrs. Clover naturally enough 
 detected nothing of the strange experiences in which 
 Mr. Gammon was involved. " Kind regards to 
 Minnie." Yes, there was the explanation of his
 
 202 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 silence. He called her his " old friend " — a phrase 
 of double meaning. Mrs. Clover, in spite of her 
 good sense, was vexed, and wished he had not said 
 " Old." Why, had she not three or four years the 
 advantage of him in youthf ulness ?
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE husband's RETURN 
 
 Gammon would gladly have answered in person 
 to Mrs. Clover's letter ; but he had promised Polly 
 that he would neither visit the china-shop nor in 
 any way communicate with her aunt. Polly had 
 made a great point of this, and he thought the rea^ 
 son was not far to seek ; she still harboured jealousy 
 of her cousin, and no doubt it would be delightful 
 to make known, just how and when she herself saw 
 fit, her triumph over Minnie. So he kept away 
 from Battersea Park Road, though often wishing to 
 spend an evening there in the old way, with Mrs. 
 Clover's bright face on one side of him, and Minnie's 
 modestly bent head on the other. 
 
 It would have been so restful after all this excite- 
 ment ; for, however he tried to grasp the facts, Mrs. 
 Clover and Minnie still seemed remote from the 
 world of wealth and titles ; he could not change 
 their names, or see them in any other position than 
 that which was familiar and natural. In talk with 
 Polly, he always rose to hilarious anticipations, 
 
 partly the result of amorous fervour ; but this mood 
 
 203
 
 204 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 did not survive their parting. Alone, he was fre- 
 quently troubled with uneasiness, with misgivings; 
 more so as the days went by without bringing any 
 news from Greenacre. Under the cover of night, 
 he visited Lowndes Mansions and hung about there 
 for half an hour, like unto one with lugubrious in- 
 tentions ; but his trouble profited him nothing. 
 Polly was growing impatient. After the manner 
 of her kind, she brooded on suspicions, and hatched 
 numerous more or less wild conjectures. What if 
 Greenacre spirited Lord Polperro away for some 
 dark purpose of his own ? Gammon himself could 
 not help suspecting the mysterious man of deep 
 projects which would tend to the disadvantage of 
 Lord Polperro's forsaken wife and child. At the 
 end of a fortnight he wrote to Greenacre at the 
 Bilboes, pressing for information. To his surprise 
 and satisfaction, this brought about an interview on 
 the following day. Greenacre seemed radiant with 
 a good conscience. 
 
 " All is going well," he declared. " Our noble 
 friend is improving in health — temporarily, at all 
 events. Doubtless it is the result of having his 
 mind more at ease. You can't imagine. Gammon, 
 how that man has been tormented by remorse. I 
 am not yet at liberty to disclose his plans. But I 
 shall certainly be so very soon — very soon. I won't 
 say Christmas ; but before New Year's Day I feel 
 confident I shall have got things completely in 
 order. I will only hint to you that his lordship
 
 THE husband's RETURN 205 
 
 wishes to retire from the world — to live a perfectly 
 quiet and simple domestic life, in a locality which 
 will be favourable to his health. You will agree 
 with us, I know, that this is far better than trying 
 to brave the gossip and scandal of society. I may 
 now tell you — in strict confidence — that our friend 
 has already written a letter to his wife, ready to be 
 posted as soon as ever the last details are settled — 
 By-the-bye, Gammon, I hope there can be no doubt 
 as to Lady Polperro's willingness to concur in what 
 her husband proposes? " 
 
 " I don't know anything about that'' Gammon 
 replied " I can't answer for her." 
 
 " Naturally. Of course not. But I hope there 
 will be no unexpected difficulty on that side. Lord 
 Polperro has his fears which I have done my best to 
 dispel. We can but hope — put our trust in the 
 forgiving nature of woman." 
 
 It now wanted but a very short time to Christ- 
 mas. As the day drew near, Gammon felt that 
 this state of worrying suspense was growing intoler- 
 able. Polly's suspicions were louder; her temper 
 became uncertain ; once or twice she forgot herself, 
 and used language calculated to cause a breach of 
 the peace. On these occasions Gammon found him- 
 self doubting whether she really was the girl after 
 his own heart ; he could have wished that she had 
 rather less spirit. Overcome by her persistence, 
 he at length definitely engaged to wait no longer 
 than the end of the year. If by that time Green-
 
 io6 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 acre had not put things in order, Polly was to seek 
 her aunt and make known all that they had dis- 
 covered. 
 
 " We won't be 'umbugged ! " she exclaimed. 
 "And it begins to look to me jolly like 'umbugging 
 — I don't know wha.t j/ou think." 
 
 Gammon admitted that the state of things was 
 very unsatisfactory, and must come to an end. The 
 last day of the year; so be it. After that, Polly 
 should have her way. 
 
 It was the middle of Christmas week. A letter 
 to the Bilboes remained without answer, Gammon 
 and Polly met every day, excited each other, lost 
 their tempers, were stormily reconciled. On the 
 morning of the thirty-first. Gammon received four 
 letters begging for pecuniary assistance, but noth- 
 ing from Greenacre. He had slept badly; his 
 splendid health was beginning to suffer. By jor- 
 rocks ! there should be an end of this, and that 
 quickly ! 
 
 As he loitered without appetite over a particularly 
 greasy breakfast, listening to Mrs. Bubb's description 
 of an ailment from which her youngest child was 
 suffering, Moggie came into the kitchen and said 
 that a young man wished to see him. Gammon 
 rushed up to the front door, where, in mist and 
 drizzle, stood a muscular youth whom he did not 
 recognise. 
 
 " I've come from Mrs. Clover's, sir," said this 
 meeeenger, touching his hat, " She'd be very glad to
 
 THE husband's RETURN 207 
 
 see you as soon as you could make it convenient to 
 look round." 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 That was all ; nothing more could be learnt from 
 the young man, and Gammon promised to come 
 forthwith. Luckily he could absent himself from 
 Quodling's to-day with no great harm ; so, after a 
 few words with Mrs. Bubb, he pulled on his great 
 coat and set off by the speediest way. Only after 
 starting did he remember his promise to Polly. 
 That could not be helped. The case seemed to be 
 urgent, and he must beg for indulgence. He had 
 an appointment with Polly for six o'clock this even- 
 ing. In the excitement of decisive action (it being 
 the last day of the year) she would probably over- 
 look this small matter. 
 
 He found Mrs. Clover in the shop. She reddened 
 at sight of him, and after a hurried greeting asked 
 him to step into the parlour, where she carefully 
 closed the door. 
 
 " Mr. Gammon — have you heard anything about 
 my husband ? " 
 
 The question disconcerted him ; he tried inef- 
 fectually to shape a denial. 
 
 " You have ! I can see you have ! — it doesn't 
 matter. I don't want you to tell me anything. But 
 he's now in this house." 
 
 She was greatly agitated ; not angry, but beset 
 by perplexities and distress. 
 
 " He came last night, about ten o'clock — came to
 
 208 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 the door, wrapped up, like a stranger — it was almost 
 too much for me when I heard his voice. He 
 wanted to come in — to stay ; and of course I let him. 
 Minnie had to know, poor girl. He's in the spare 
 room. Did you know he meant to come ? " 
 
 " I ? Hadn't an idea of it, Mrs. Clover ! " 
 
 " But you know something about him. He tells 
 me you do, he wants to see you. There's only one 
 thing I ask — has he been doing wrong ? Oh, do 
 tell me that!" 
 
 Gammon protested that he knew nothing of the 
 kind, and added that he had only seen the man 
 once, for a minute, now more than a month 
 ago. 
 
 " And you kept it from me ! " said his friend re- 
 proachfully. " I didn't think you'd have done that, 
 Mr. Gammon ! " 
 
 " There was a reason. I shouldn't have thought 
 of doing it, if there hadn't been a good reason." 
 
 " Never mind, I won't interfere. I feel as if it 
 had nothing to do with me. Will you go up-stairs 
 to him ? He looks to me as if he hadn't very long 
 to live, indeed he does. — Listen, that's his cough ! 
 Oh, I am so upset. It came so sudden. — And to 
 think you'd seen him, and never told me ! — Never 
 mind ; go up to him, if you will, and see what he 
 wants with you." 
 
 Gammon did her bidding. He ascended lightly 
 and tapped at the door Mrs. Clover indicated. A 
 cough sounded from within ; then a voice which the
 
 THE HUSBANDS RETURN 209 
 
 visitor recognised, saying, " Come in." On the bed, 
 but fully dressed, lay a tall, meagre man, with a 
 woollen comforter about his neck. The room was in 
 good order, and warmed by a fire, which the suf- 
 ferer's condition seemed to make very necessary. 
 Jie fixed his eyes on Gammon, as if trying to smile, 
 but defeated in the effort by pain and misery. 
 
 " I'm here, you see," he said, hoarsely. " There's 
 no doubt about me now." 
 
 " Got a bad cold, eh ? " replied the other, as cheer- 
 fully as he could. 
 
 " Yes, a cold. Always have a cold. Would you 
 mind reaching me the kettle ? " 
 
 He poured out some brandy from a bottle which 
 stood on the floor and mixed it with a little hot 
 water. Gammon the while observed him with much 
 curiosity. In five years or a little more, he had be- 
 come an old and feeble man ; his thin hair was all 
 but completely grey ; the flesh had wasted and dis- 
 coloured ; his hand trembled, his breath came with 
 diflficulty. Present illness accounted, perhaps, for 
 the latter symptoms ; but from that glimpse of him 
 in Norton Folgate, Gammon had known that he was 
 much aged and shaken. Hat, overcoat and mufifler, 
 had partly disguised what was now evident. He 
 spoke with the accent of an educated man, and in 
 the tone of one whom nature has endowed with 
 amiable qualities. The bottle beside him seemed 
 to explain certain peculiarities of his manner; when 
 he had drunk thirstily he raised himself to a sitting 
 H
 
 210 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 posture, and nodded to his visitor in invitation to 
 take a chair. 
 
 " I'm here you see, Gammon. Here, at last." 
 
 " Why did you come? " 
 
 " Why ?— ah, why indeed ! " 
 
 Having sighed out this ejaculation, he seemed to 
 grow absent, to forget that he was not alone. A 
 violent cough shook him into wakefulness again, he 
 stared at Gammon with red eyes full of pain and 
 fear and said thickly : 
 
 " Are you an honest man — you ? " 
 
 " Well, I hope so— try to be—" 
 
 "What's his name — you know him, don't you?" 
 
 " Do you mean Greenacre ? " asked Gammon, 
 feeling very uncomfortable, for the man before him 
 looked like one who struggles for his last breath. 
 
 " Greenacre — yes. What has he told you about 
 me ? 
 
 Gammon answered with the simple truth ; the 
 situation alarmed him, and he would have nothing 
 more to do with conspiracy in such a case. He 
 could not feel sure that his explanations were fol- 
 lowed and understood, now and then the bloodshot 
 eyes turned blankly to him, as if in a drunken 
 dream ; but in the end he saw a look of satisfaction. 
 
 " You're an honest man — aren't you ? We used 
 to know each other — you know when. My wife 
 likes you, doesn't she?" 
 
 " We've always been friends, of course," Gammon 
 replied.
 
 THE husband's RETURN 211 
 
 " Would you mind giving me the kettle ? " He 
 mixed another glass of brandy, spilHng a great deal 
 in the process. " I don't offer you any, Greenacre. 
 It's medicine — I take it as such. One doesn't offer 
 one's friends a glass of medicine, you know, Green- 
 acre." 
 
 " My name is Gammon." 
 
 " What am I thinking about ! — There was some- 
 thing I wanted to ask you. Yes — of course. Does 
 she know? " 
 
 " You mean does your wife know who you really 
 are ? " said Gammon, in a cautious voice. " Haven't 
 you told her? " 
 
 " Not yet." 
 
 "Then I don't think any one else has." 
 
 The man had fallen back upon the pillow. He 
 began to cough, struggled to raise himself and be- 
 came seated on the edge of the bed. 
 
 " Well, it's time we were going." 
 
 ** Where to ? " asked Gammon. 
 
 The other stared at him in surprise and distress. 
 
 " Surely I haven't to tell you all over again ! 
 Weren't you listening? You're a man of business, 
 are you not? Surely you ought to have a clear head 
 the first thing in the morning." 
 
 " Just tell me again, in a word or two. What can 
 I do for you ? Do you want to see anybody ? " 
 
 "Yes, yes, I remember." He laid a hand on his 
 companion's shoulder. " The matter stands thus, 
 Greenacre. I trust you implicitly ; once more I
 
 212 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 assure you of that. But it is absolutely necessary 
 for me to see my solicitor." 
 
 " All right. What's his name ? " 
 
 " I'll tell you. Cuthbertson — old Jewry Cham- 
 bers. But first of all, let us come to an understand- 
 ing about that man Quodling. I called upon his 
 brother — why, I told you all that before. Didn't 
 I?" 
 
 "You had just been there when I met you in 
 Norton Folgate," said Gammon, who felt that be- 
 fore long his own wits would begin to wander. 
 
 ** To be sure. — And now we really must be go- 
 
 • »> 
 mg. 
 
 He stood up, staggering ; gained his balance and 
 walked to the window. The prospect there seemed 
 to recall him to a consciousness of the actual pres- 
 ent, and he looked round appealingly, distressfully. 
 
 " I tell you what it is," said Gammon. " You 
 ought to get into bed, and have a doctor. Shall I 
 help you ? " 
 
 " No — no — I regret that I came here, Greenacre. 
 I am not welcome ; how could I expect to be ? If I 
 an going to be ill, it mustn't be here." 
 
 " Then let me get a cab, and take you to your 
 own place — if your wife is willing," 
 
 " That would be best. The truth is, I feel terri- 
 bly queer, Greenacre, Suppose I — suppose I died 
 here ? Of course I ought never to have come. 
 Think of the talk there would be. And that's just 
 what I wanted to spare them — the talk and the dis-
 
 THE HUSBANDS RETURN 213 
 
 grace. It can all be managed by my solicitor. But 
 I felt that come I must. After all, you see, it's 
 home. You understand that ? It's really my home. 
 I've been here often at night — just to see the house. 
 The wonder is that I didn't come in before. Of 
 course I knew I couldn't be welcome — but one's 
 wife and child, Greenacre. The real wife, whether 
 the other's alive or not." 
 
 Gammon started. 
 
 " What did you say ? " he asked in a whisper. 
 
 " Nothing — nothing. You are a good fellow, I 
 am sure, and my wife likes you — that's quite 
 enough. The point is this now. I must destroy 
 that will, and get Cuthbertson to draw a deed of 
 gift — all in order you know, but nothing that could 
 get wind and make a scandal. The will would be 
 publicly known. I ought to have remembered 
 that. I repeat, Greenacre, that what I have to do 
 is to provide for them both without causing them 
 any trouble or disgrace." 
 
 Catching the listener's eye, he became silent and 
 confused for a moment, then added quickly : 
 
 " I beg your pardon. I addressed you by the 
 wrong name. Gammon, I meant to say. Gammon, 
 my wife's friend: a thoroughly honest man. Have 
 I made myself clear, Gammon, I — . You see how 
 the matter stands ? " 
 
 Gammon was beginning to see that the matter 
 stood in a perilous position, and that the sooner 
 Mr. Cuthbertson — if such a person existed— could
 
 214 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 be brought on to the scene, the better for every one 
 concerned. He asked himself whether he ought to 
 summon Mrs. Clover. His glance towards the door 
 must have betrayed his thought, for the sick man 
 spoke as though in reply to it. 
 
 " We will say nothing to her yet, if you please. 
 I — I begin to feel a little better. Our long con- 
 fidential talk has done me good. By-the-bye, 
 Greenacre — I beg your pardon. Gammon — you quite 
 understand that it is all in the strictest confidence. 
 I trust you implicitly, as my dear wife's friend. It 
 is all in her interests, as you see. I think, now, if 
 you would kindly get a cab — yes, I feel quite equal 
 to it, now; we will go to Lowndes Mansions." 
 
 The voice was thin, husky, senile ; but his tone 
 had more of rationality, and he appeared to have 
 made up his mind to a course of action. Gammon 
 presently went down-stairs and told Mrs. Clover 
 that her husband wished to go into the town on 
 business. She made no objection, but asked 
 whether Gammon would take the responsibility of 
 looking after him. This he promised. Whether 
 the man would return hither or not was left uncer- 
 tain. 
 
 '' If he goes to his own house," said Gammon, 
 *' I'll see him safe there and let you know. He lives 
 in the West End. Now don't upset yourself. If 
 he doesn't come back, you shall know where he is, 
 and if you want to, you shall go and see him. I 
 promise you that. I know all about him ; and so
 
 THE husband's RETURN 2l5 
 
 shall you ; so just keep yourself quiet. He'll have 
 to go to bed and stay there ; any one can see that. 
 If you take my advice you'll let us go out quietly 
 and not speak to him. Just trust to me, Mrs. 
 Clover." 
 
 " Do you think he's right in his mind ? " she asked. 
 
 " Well, he's very shaky, and ought to be kept 
 quiet ; what has he told you ? " 
 
 " Nothing at all. He sat crying for an hour last 
 night, and talked about the old times. When I 
 asked questions he put me off. And when I went 
 into his room this morning, he said nothing, except 
 that he wanted to see you, and that he must have 
 some brandy for his cold." 
 
 " All right. Let us leave the house quietly, and 
 I'll see you again to-day or to-morrow. — Oh, I say ; 
 has a man called Greenacre been here at any time ? " 
 
 " I don't know any one of that name," answered 
 Mrs. Clover, as she turned distressfully away. 
 
 A cab was summoned, and Gammon, having 
 helped the sick man to clothe himself warmly in 
 overcoat and mufBer, led him from the house. They 
 drove straight to Lowndes Mansions.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 HIS lordship's will 
 
 The movement of the vehicle made Lord Polperro 
 drowsy. In ten minutes he seemed to be asleep, 
 and Gammon had to catch his hat as it was falling 
 forward. When the four-wheeler jolted more than 
 usual, he uttered groans ; once he shouted loudly, 
 and for a moment stared about him in terror. The 
 man of commerce had never made so unpleasant a 
 journey in his life. 
 
 On arriving at their destination, it was with much 
 
 difficulty that Gammon aroused his companion, 
 
 and with still more that he conveyed him from the 
 
 cab into the building ; a house porter (who smiled 
 
 significantly) assisting in the job. Lord Polperro, 
 
 when thoroughly awakened, coughed, groaned and 
 
 gasped in a most alarming way. His flat was on 
 
 the first floor ; before reaching it, he began to shed 
 
 tears, and to beg that his medical man might be 
 
 summoned immediately. The door was opened by a 
 
 middle-aged woman dressed as a housekeeper, who 
 
 viewed his lordship with no great concern. She 
 
 promised to send a messenger to the doctor's, and 
 216
 
 HIS LORDSHIP'S WILL 2l7 
 
 left the two men alone in a room comfortably 
 furnished, but without elegance or expensiveness. 
 Gammon waited upon the invalid, placed him at 
 ease by the fireside, and reached him a cellaret from 
 a cupboard full of various liquors. A few draughts 
 of a restorative enabled Lord Polperro to articulate, 
 arid he inquired if any letters had arrived for him. 
 
 " Look on the writing-table, Greenacre. Any- 
 thing there ? " 
 
 There were two letters. The invalid examined 
 then with disappointment and tossed them aside. 
 
 " Beggars and blackmailers," he muttered. " No- 
 body else writes to tney 
 
 Of a sudden it occurred to him that he was for- 
 getting the duties of hospitality. He urged his 
 guest to take refreshment ; he roused himself, went 
 to the cupboard, brought out half a dozen kinds of 
 beverage. 
 
 " And of course you will lunch with me. Or — 
 will it be dinner? Yes, yes, luncheon, of course. 
 Excuse me for one moment ; I must give some 
 orders." 
 
 He left the room. Gammon having tossed off a 
 glass of wine, surveyed the objects about him with 
 curiosity. An observer of more education would 
 have glanced with peculiar interest at the books; 
 several volumes lay on the table, one of them a re- 
 cent work on Gipsies, another dealing with the an- 
 tiquities of Cornwall. For the town traveller these 
 things of course had no significance. But he r©-
 
 2l8 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 marked a painting on the wall which was probably a 
 portrait of one of Lord Polperro's ancestors; a 
 youngish man, (the Trefoyle nose not to be mis- 
 taken) in a strange, wild costume ; his head bare 
 under a sky blackening to storm ; in his hand a sort 
 of hunting knife, and one of his feet resting on a 
 dead wolf. When his host reappeared Gammon 
 asked himw horn the picture represented. 
 
 " That ? That's my father — years before I was 
 born. They tell me that he used to say that in his 
 life he had only done one thing to be proud of. It 
 was in some part of Russia. He killed a wolf at 
 close quarters — only a knife to fight with. He was 
 a fine man, my father. Looks it, don't you think ? " 
 
 Thirst was upon him again ; he drank the first 
 liquor that came to hand, then sat down and was 
 silent. 
 
 "You feel better?" said Gammon. 
 
 " Better ? Oh, thanks, much the same. I shan't 
 be better till things are settled. That won't be long. 
 I expected to hear from Greenacre — I think you 
 said you knew Greenacre.?" 
 
 " What is he doing for you ? " Gammon inquired, 
 thinking he might as well take advantage of this 
 lucid moment, the result, seemingly, of alcoholic 
 stimulation. 
 
 " Doing ?— We'll talk of that presently. Mind 
 you, I have complete confidence in Greenacre. I 
 regret that I didn't know him long ago." He sighed 
 ajad began to wander. " My best years gone— gone !
 
 HIS lordship's will 219 
 
 You remember what I was, Gammon ? We don't 
 live like other people ; something wrong in our 
 blood ; we go down — down. But if I had lived as 
 I was, and let the cursed title alone ! That was my 
 mistake, Greenacre. I had found happiness — a 
 good wife. You know my wife ? What am I say- 
 ing ? Of course you do. Never an unkind word 
 from her — never one. How many men can say that ? 
 The best woman living, Greenacre." 
 
 " You keep forgetting who I am," said his guest 
 bluntly. 
 
 Lord Polperro gave him a look of surprise, and 
 with effort cleared his thoughts. 
 
 " Ah — I called you Greenacre — excuse me ? 
 Gammon — my wife's friend. Be her friend still ; a 
 better woman doesn't live, believe me. You will 
 lunch with me, Gammon. We are to have along talk. 
 And I want you to go with me to my solicitors ? I 
 must settle that to-day. I thought Greenacre would 
 be back. The fact is, you know, I must recover my 
 health. The south of Europe, Greenacre thinks, 
 and I agree with him. A place where we can live 
 quietly — my wife and the little girl ; no one to 
 bother us, or to gossip. She shall know when we 
 get there — not before. This climate is bad for me ; 
 killing me, in fact I hope to start in a few days ; 
 just us three ; I and my wife and the little girl. She 
 shall use the title if she likes ; if not, we'll leave it 
 behind us. Ah, that was my misfortune, you know. 
 It oughtn't to have come to me."
 
 220 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 He was seized with a hiccough, which in a few 
 moments became so violent that he had to abandon 
 the attempt to converse. When it had lasted for half 
 an hour, Gammon found his position intolerable ; he 
 rose, meaning to leave the room and speak to the 
 housekeeper ; but just then the door opened to 
 admit Lord Polperro's medical attendant. This 
 gentleman, after a glance at the patient, who was 
 not aware of his presence, put a few questions to 
 Gammon. The latter then withdrew, quietly, went 
 out from the flat, and down into the street, where 
 the doctor's carriage stood waiting. He was be- 
 wildered with novelty of experience, felt thoroughly 
 out of his element, and would have liked to have 
 escaped from these complications by simply taking 
 a cab to Norton Folgate, and forgetting all he left 
 behind. But his promise, to Mrs Clover (or Lady 
 Polperro) forbade this. He was very curious as 
 to the proceedings of that mysterious fellow Green- 
 acre, who, as likely as not, had got Lord Polperro 
 into his power for rascally purposes. What was 
 that half-heard allusion to another wife — who might 
 be alive or dead ? Nothing to cause astonishment, 
 assuredly ; but the matter ought to be cleared up. 
 
 He crossed the street, and walked up and down, 
 keeping his eye on Lowndes Mansions. Before 
 long the doctor came out and drove away. After 
 much indecision Gammon again entered and knocked 
 at the door of his noble friend. The housekeeper 
 said that Lord Polperro was asking for him impa-
 
 HIS lordship's will 221 
 
 tiently. But when he entered the sitting-room, 
 there lay his lordship on the sofa fast asleep. 
 
 The sleep lasted for a couple of hours, during 
 which Gammon sat in the room, bearing tedium as 
 best he could. He was afraid to go away, lest an 
 opportunity of learning something important should 
 be lost ; but never had time passed so slowly. Some 
 neglect of business was involved, but fortunately he 
 had no appointment that could not be postponed. 
 As he said to himself, it was better to " see the 
 thing through, " and to make the most of Greenacre's 
 absence. 
 
 When Lord Polperro at length awoke, he had 
 command of his intellect (such as remained to him) 
 but groaned in severe pain. His first inquiry was 
 whether any letter or telegram had arrived ; as- 
 sured that there was nothing, he tottered about the 
 room for a few minutes, then declared that he must 
 go to bed. 
 
 " I always feel better in the evening, Gammon. 
 You'll excuse me, I know ; we are old friends. I 
 must see you again to-day ; you'll promise to come 
 back? Oh, how ill I am ! I don't think this can go 
 on much longer," 
 
 " What did the doctor tell you to do ? " 
 
 " Oh, nothing, nothing," was the irritable reply. 
 " Of course I must get away as soon as possible. 
 If only I could hear from Greenacre." 
 
 Seeing there was no likelihood of the man's leav- 
 ing home for the next few hours, Gammon prom-
 
 222 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 ised to return in the afternoon, and so took his 
 leave. On the stairs he passed two ladies, who, as 
 he learnt in a moment by the sound of their knock 
 above, were making a call upon the invalid. In the 
 street stood their carriage. He watched it for some 
 time from the other side of the way until the ladies 
 came forth again. It would have soothed Gammon's 
 mind could he have known that they were Lord 
 Polperro's sister and his niece. 
 
 Just as the brief daylight was flickering out (the air 
 had begun to nip with a threat of frost) he once 
 more presented himself at Lowndes Mansions. In 
 the meantime he had seen Polly Sparkes, informed 
 her of what was happening, and received her prom- 
 ise that she would take no step until he could 
 communicate with her again. This interview re- 
 vived his spirits ; he felt equal to another effort 
 such as that of the morning — which had taxed him 
 more than the hardest day's work he was ever 
 called upon to do. 
 
 Lord Polperro again sat by the fireside with a 
 decanter and glass within his reach. He was evi- 
 dently more at ease, but seemed to have a difficulty 
 in recognising his visitor. 
 
 "Have you come from Greenacre?" he asked 
 cautiously, peering through the dull light. 
 
 " I don't know anything about him." 
 
 " No ? — I cannot understand why I have no news 
 from him. — Pray sit down ; let me see : — we were 
 talking about — **
 
 HIS LORDSHIP'S WILL 223 
 
 Presently he shook his recollections into order 
 and when a lamp was brought in he began to talk 
 lucidly. 
 
 " Gammon, I feel very uneasy in my mind. This 
 morning I quite intended to have gone to see Cuth- 
 bertson ; but I was taken ill, you know. What is 
 the time? I wonder whether Cuthbertson is likely 
 to be at his office still?" 
 
 "That's your lawyer, isn't it? Would you like 
 me to go and try to get hold of him ? I might bring 
 him here." 
 
 " You are very kind. Gammon. For some reason, 
 I feel that I really ought to see him to-day. Sup- 
 pose we go together ? " 
 
 " But you oughtn't to be out at night, ought 
 you?" 
 
 " Oh, I feel much better. Besides, we should drive, 
 you know — quite comfortable. I really think we 
 will go. Than you shall come back and dine with 
 me. Yes, I think we will go." 
 
 Between this decision and the actual step, half an 
 hour was wasted in doubts, fresh resolves, moments 
 of forgetfulness, and slow preparation. A messen- 
 ger had been despatched for a cab, and at length, 
 almost by force, Gammon succeeded in getting his 
 lordship down the stairs and out into the street. 
 They drove to old Jewry Chambers. Throughout 
 the journey Lord Polperro kept up a constant bab- 
 bling which he meant for impressive talk; much of 
 it was inaudible to his companion, from the noise of
 
 224 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 the cab, and the sentences that could be distin- 
 guished were mere repetitions of what he had said 
 before leaving home — that he felt it absolutely 
 necessary to see Cuthbertson, and that he could not 
 understand Greenacre's silence. They reached the 
 solicitor's office at about half-past five. Lord Pol- 
 perro entered only to return with a face of disap- 
 pointment. 
 
 " He has gone. No one there but a clerk — no 
 use." 
 
 " Couldn't you find him at his private address?" 
 asked Gammon. 
 
 " Private address ? to be sure ! I'll go in again 
 and ask for it." 
 
 Mr. Cuthbertson lived at Streatham. 
 
 " I tell you what," said Lord Polperro, whose mind 
 seemed to be invigorated by his activity, " we'll 
 go to Streatham ; but first of all we must have some- 
 thing to eat. The fact is, I had no lunch ; I begin 
 to feel rather faint." 
 
 He bade the cabman drive to any restaurant not 
 far away. There the vehicle was dismissed and they 
 sat down to a meal. Gammon as usual ate heartily. 
 Lord Polperro pretended to do the same, but in 
 reality swallowed only a few mouthfuls, and gave his 
 more serious attention to the wine. Every few 
 minutes he assured his companion in a whisper that 
 he would feel quite at ease when he had seen Cuth- 
 bertson. 
 
 They looked out the trains to Streatham and left
 
 HIS lordship's will 225 
 
 just in time to catch one. On the journey his lord- 
 ship dozed. He was growing very husky again, and 
 the cough shook him badly after each effort to talk. 
 So Gammon felt glad to see him resting. By the 
 gaslight in the railway carriage his face appeared 
 t6 flush and grow pale alternately; at moments it 
 looked horribly cadaverous with its half-open eyes, 
 shrivelled lips and thin, sharp, high-ridged nose. On 
 arriving, the man lost all consciousness of where he 
 was, and what he purposed ; it took many minutes 
 before Gammon could convey him into a cab and 
 extort from him Mr. Cuthbertson's address. 
 
 " Greenacre," his lordship kept repeating, " I trust 
 you implicitly. I am convinced you have my in- 
 terests at heart. When all is settled, I shall show 
 myself grateful — believe me." 
 
 Between seven and eight o'clock they drove up to 
 a house on Streatham Hill, and without consulting 
 Lord Polperro, Gammon went to parley at the door. 
 Ill-luck pursued them. Mr. Cuthbertson was dining 
 in town and could not be home till late. When made 
 to understand this Lord Polperro passed from leth- 
 argy to violent agitation. 
 
 " We must go back at once," he exclaimed. " To 
 Lowndes Mansions at once ! Greenacre, tell him to 
 drive straight to Sloane Street. You don't know 
 what depends upon it. We must lose not a mo- 
 ment." 
 
 The cabman consented, and the return journey 
 began at a good speed. When Gammon, out of 
 15
 
 226 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 regard for the invalid's condition, insisted on having 
 the window of the hansom dropped, Lord Polperro 
 grumbled and lamented. The cool air did him good, 
 he was beginning to breathe more easily than he 
 had done for a long time. 
 
 " You are too imperious with me, Greenacre. I 
 have noticed it in you before. You take too much 
 upon yourself." 
 
 " I suppose it's no use telling you once more,'* 
 said his companion, " that my name isn't Greenacre." 
 
 " Dear me ! Dear me ! I beg your pardon a 
 thousand times. I meant to say Gammon — I can't 
 tell you. Gammon, how much I feel your kindness. 
 But for you, I should never have managed all this 
 in my state of health. You don't mind coming 
 home with me? " 
 
 " Of course not. What are you going to do when 
 you get there ? " 
 
 " I told you, my dear Gammon. It shall be done 
 this very night, whether I have news or not. I shall 
 see Cuthbertson the first thing to-morrow and get 
 him to draw the deed of gift. That settles every- 
 thing; no gossip, no scandal, if anything should 
 happen. Life is so uncertain, and, as you see, I 
 am in anything but robust health. Yes, it shall be 
 done this very night." 
 
 Tired of futile questioning. Gammon resolved to 
 wait and see what was done ; though it seemed to 
 him more than likely that nothing at all would come 
 of these vehement expressions. At all events, Lord
 
 HIS lordship's will 227 
 
 Polperro was now wide awake, and seemed in no 
 danger of relapsing into the semi-comatose or semi- 
 delirious condition. He no longer addressed his 
 companion by the name of Greenacre ; his talk was 
 marked with a rational reserve ; he watched the 
 course of their drive along the highways of South 
 London and showed satisfaction as they approached 
 his own district. 
 
 The cabman was paid with careless liberality, and 
 Lord Polperro ran up the stairs to his flat. More 
 strictly speaking, he ran for a few yards, when breath 
 failed him, and it was all he could do to stagger with 
 loud pantings up the rest of the ascent. Arrived in 
 his sitting-room, he sank exhausted on to the nearest 
 chair. Gammon saw that he pointed feebly to the 
 liquor cupboard, and heard a gasp that sounded like 
 ♦' Brandy." 
 
 " Better not," replied the clear-headed man. " I 
 wouldn't if I were you." 
 
 But his lordship insisted, looking reproachfully, 
 and the brandy was produced. It did him good ; 
 that is to say, it brought colour to his face, and en- 
 abled him to sit upright. No sooner was he thus 
 recovered, than his eyes fell upon the envelope of a 
 telegram which lay on his writing-table. 
 
 "There it is! At last ! " 
 
 He tore the paper, all but sobbing with agony of 
 impatience. 
 
 " Good God ! I cant see it ! I've gone half blind 
 all at once. Read it for me, Gammon."
 
 228 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 " Hope see you to-night. Important news. If 
 not in morning. — Greenacre." 
 
 " Where did he send it from ? " 
 
 " Euston, six o'clock." 
 
 " Then he came by the Irish day-mail. Why didn't 
 I think of that, and meet the train ? What does he 
 mean by to-night or to-morrow morning? What 
 does he mean ? " 
 
 " How can I tell ? " replied Gammon. " Perhaps he 
 has called here while you were away." 
 
 Lord Polperro rang the bell, only to find that no 
 one had asked for him. He was in a state of pitiable 
 agitation ; kept shuffling about the room, with 
 coughs and gasps, demanding ceaselessly why Green- 
 acre left the hour of his appearance uncertain. Gam- 
 mon, scarcely less excited in his own way, shouted 
 assurances that the fellow might turn up at any 
 moment. It was not yet ten o'clock. Why not sit 
 down and wait quietly ? 
 
 " I will," said the other. " I will — thank you, 
 Gammon. I will sit down and wait. But I cannot 
 conceive why he didn't come straight here from 
 Euston. I may as well tell you he has been to Ire- 
 land for me, on business of the gravest importance. 
 I am not impatient without cause. — I trust Greenacre 
 implicitly. He had a gentleman's education. I am 
 convinced he could not deceive me." 
 
 More brandy helped him to surmount this crisis ; 
 then he was silent for a few minutes. Gammon
 
 HIS lordship's will 229 
 
 thought he had begun to doze again, but of a sudden 
 he spoke distinctly and earnestly. 
 
 " I am forgetting. You remember what I had 
 decided to do. It shall be done at once, Gammon. 
 I know it will relieve my mind." 
 
 He rose, went to the writing-table, unlocked a 
 drawer, and took out a large sealed envelope, on 
 which something was written. 
 
 " Gammon, you are witness of what I now do. 
 This is my will, executed about a year ago. I have 
 reasons for wishing to dispose of my property in 
 another way. Cuthbertson will see to that for me 
 to-morrow. A will becomes public ; I did not think 
 of that at the time. There ! " 
 
 He threw the sealed packet into the fire, where it 
 was quickly caught by the flames and consumed. 
 
 " Now I feel easier in mind — much easier." 
 
 He drank from the replenished glass, smiling and 
 nodding.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 NEW year's eve 
 
 Gammon had the strangest sensation. He felt as 
 though he were acting in a melodrama ; he stood in 
 a constrained position, as if the eyes of the house 
 were upon him ; he suffered from a sort of stage- 
 fright. Much more of this kind of thing would 
 assuredly unsettle his wits. To recover tone, he 
 helped himself to a stiff glass of whisky. 
 
 " That's right," said his host, encouragingly. 
 " Make yourself comfortable. Greenacre may drop 
 in at any moment. You can't think how much 
 better I feel, Gammon. So clear in the mind, you 
 know — why, it has only just occurred to me ; this 
 is New Year's Eve." 
 
 •' So it is. Here's to your health and happiness. 
 Lord Polperro ! " 
 
 " Thank you, my dear Gammon. I heartily wish 
 you the same. To-morrow, or at all events in a few 
 days, a new life begins for me — as you know. In 
 the climate of the south of Europe, with my wife and 
 the little girl— Ah! butforthisidiotictitle!— I was 
 
 saying — " 
 230
 
 NEW year's eve 231 
 
 He began to wander unintelligibly ; then com- 
 plained of physical sufferings ; then coughed until he 
 sank in exhaustion. 
 
 Time went on. Gammon began to ask himself 
 how long he should wait. At half-past ten, he made 
 a suggestion that his lordship might do worse than 
 go to bed, but this was ill-received. 
 
 " By no means, Greenacre may be here at any 
 moment. He will certainly come to-night. If he 
 doesn't come — do you know what occurs to me? 
 Why shouldn't we drive into the City, and ask 
 whether he has returned ? " 
 
 "Ask where?" 
 
 " He lives at a place — a sort of hotel — which he 
 calls the Bilboes. Greenacre is eccentric — but 
 thoroughly trustworthy ; he had a gentleman's edu- 
 cation." 
 
 " He lives there, does he ? " exclaimed Gammon. 
 
 " Finds it convenient, I suppose. Yes, we will go 
 and enquire ; we certainly will." 
 
 Gammon's objections were unheeded. No one 
 could take any harm, said Lord Polperro, from 
 driving in a closed cab to the City and back. He 
 would leave directions that if Greenacre called dur- 
 ing their absence, he should be asked to wait ; 
 so they made ready and went forth ; and once 
 more a hansom bore them through the dark, cold 
 night. 
 
 Lord Polperro talked unceasingly, and from his 
 rambling hints it was not difficult to conjecture the
 
 232 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 business on which Greenacre had been despatched 
 to Ireland. Some one had to be discovered ; a 
 doubt as to whether some person was alive or dead 
 had to be set at rest. Gammon ventured a few 
 questions, which were answered evasively ; but the 
 nature of his companion's anxiety was by this time 
 clear enough to him. He felt quite as desirous of 
 meeting Greenacre as Lord Polperro himself. Every 
 hour spent in this way added to his responsibility ; 
 and he had made up his mind that at the earliest 
 possible moment to-morrow he would himself see 
 Mr. Cuthbertson, and confide to him everything 
 that had happened during this extraordinary day. 
 
 As the cab ascended Ludgate Hill, it passed 
 through crowds of people moving in the same di- 
 rection. Gammon was for a moment surprised ; 
 then he called to mind again that it was New Year's 
 Eve ; the people were thronging to hear St. Paul's 
 strike the hour of midnight. Last year he had him- 
 self joined in this celebration ; he remembered with 
 a smile that he reached home by circuitous routes, 
 and after one or two short intervals of repose on 
 convenient doorsteps. What was more, on that 
 very night he had first made Greenacre's acquaint- 
 ance — at a bar ; they swore eternal brotherhood, and 
 Greenacre borrowed half a sovereign, never repaid. 
 
 With Gammon's help, the cabman found his way 
 to the Bilboes. 
 
 " Don't get out," he said to his companion " I'll 
 ask if he has come."
 
 NEW year's eve 233 
 
 Lord Polperro suddenly aroused himself and 
 tumbled out of the vehicle ; but for Gammon's at- 
 tention he would have fallen full length. They en- 
 tered together, and by a confused process of inquiry 
 learnt that Greenacre was still absent. 
 . " Does he live here ? " Gammon asked of a waiter 
 whom he had drawn aside. 
 
 " He has a bedroom, sir." 
 
 Lord Polperro said that he felt a sudden faintness 
 and must take refreshment. Having drunk, he be- 
 gan to talk in a loud voice about his private affairs, 
 addressing a stranger who sat by him and whom he 
 took for Gammon. 
 
 " I shall stay here. I shall certainly wait here 
 for Greenacre. I can't run the risk of missing him to- 
 night." 
 
 Gammon caught him by the arm and persuaded 
 him to come out into the passage; but the only re- 
 sult of this was that Lord Polperro dismissed the 
 cab, repeating obstinately that he would wait Green- 
 acre's arrival. 
 
 " But ten to one he's waiting for z^^down yonder," 
 urged Gammon. 
 
 " He won't wait very long and we shall pass him 
 on the road if we go back now. I tell you it is my 
 pleasure to remain here ! You forget yourself, Gam- 
 mon. I know we are old friends, but you forget 
 our positions." 
 
 The man of commerce laughed contemptuously. 
 
 " Look here," he said the next moment, " Let's
 
 234 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 walk as far as St Paul's, and have a look at the 
 crowd." 
 
 " The crowd ? What crowd ? " 
 
 When he had heard the explanation, his lordship 
 readily assented. Certainly; they would stroll as 
 far as St. Paul's and back again ; by that time 
 Greenacre might have come. It was probable that 
 when they had gone a little distance Lord Polperro 
 would feel shaky and consent to take a cab. Drink, 
 however, had invigorated the man ; he reeled a 
 little and talked very huskily, but declared that the 
 walk was enjoyable. 
 
 " Let's go into the crowd, Gammon. I like a 
 crowd — What are those bells ringing for ? — yes, yes, 
 of course, I remember. New Year's Eve. I had no 
 idea that people came here to see the New Year in. 
 I shall come again ; I shall come every year ; it's 
 most enjoyable." 
 
 They entered the Churchyard, and were soon 
 amid a noisy, hustling throng; an assembly com- 
 posed of clerks and countermen, roughs and pick- 
 pockets, with a sprinkling of well-to-do rowdies, and 
 numerous girls or women, whose shrieks, screams 
 and yelps sounded above the deeper notes of mas- 
 culine uproar. Gammon, holding tight to his com- 
 panion's arm, endeavoured to pilot him in a direc- 
 tion where the crowd was thinnest, still moving 
 westward ; but Lord Polperro caught the contagion 
 of tumult, and began pressing vehemently into the 
 surging mass.
 
 NEW year's eve 235 
 
 " This does me good, Gammon ! It's a long time 
 since I've mixed with people. I always enjoyed a 
 crowd. HoUo-o-o ! " 
 
 His excited shout made him cough terribly ; none 
 the less he pushed on, 
 
 •* You'll come to harm," said the other. " Don't 
 be a fool ; get out of this." 
 
 A struggle began between them ; but by this 
 time they were so thickly encompassed that Gam- 
 mon had small chance of forcing his companion 
 away. Lord Polperro did not resent the tugs at 
 his arm ; he took it for genial horseplay : and only 
 shouted louder. 
 
 " On we go ! This makes one feel alive, eh ? 
 Splendid idea to come and see this. Hollo-o-o ! " 
 
 Blackguards in front of him were bellowing a 
 filthy song ; his lordship tried to join in the melody. 
 A girl, who was jammed against him, shot liquid 
 into his ear out of a squirt, and another of her kind 
 knocked his hat off ; he struggled to recover it, but 
 some one was beforehand with him, and sent the 
 silky headgear flying skyward, after which it was 
 tossed from hand to hand, and then trampled under- 
 foot. 
 
 " Now you'll catch your bloomin' death of cold," 
 said Gammon. " Stick on to me, and get out of 
 this." 
 
 "I'm all right! Leave me alone, can't you ! How 
 often have I a damned chance of enjoying myself ? " 
 
 It was the first syllable of bad language that Gam-
 
 236 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 mon had heard from Polperro's lips. Struck with 
 this fact, and all the more conscious of his duty to 
 this high-born madman, he hit on a device for rescu- 
 ing him from the crowd. 
 
 " Look ! " he cried suddenly. " There's Green- 
 acre ! " 
 
 "Where?" replied the other, all eagerness. 
 
 " Just in front. Don't you see him ? — This way. 
 Come along or we shall lose him." 
 
 Flecks of dim white had for some minutes been 
 visible above their heads ; it was beginning to snow. 
 Gammon shouldered his way steadily, careful not 
 to come into quarrelsome conflict. Polperro hung on 
 behind, shouting Greenacre's name. This clamour, 
 and the loss of his hat, drew attention upon him ; 
 he was a mark for squirts and missiles, to say noth- 
 ing of verbal insult. St. Paul's struck the first note 
 of twelve, and from all the, bestial mob arose a howl 
 and roar. Polperro happened to press against a 
 drunken woman ; she caught him by his flying hair 
 and tugged at it, yelling into his face. To release 
 himself, he bent forward, pushing the woman away ; 
 the result was a violent blow from her fist, after 
 which she raised a shriek, as if of pain and terror ; 
 instantly a man sprang forward to her defence, and 
 he too planted his fist between the eyes of the hap- 
 less peer. Gammon saw at once that they were 
 involved in a serious row ; the very thing he had 
 been trying to avoid. He would not desert his 
 friend, and was too plucky to see him ill-used without
 
 NEW YEAR'S EVE 237 
 
 reprisals. The rough's blows were answered with no 
 less vigour by the man of commerce. 
 
 " Hook it ! " shouted Gammon to the tottering 
 Polperro. " Get out of it ! " 
 
 The clock was still striking ; and the crowd kept up 
 its brutal bellow, aided by shrill instruments of noise. 
 Only a few people heard Polperro's shout, defying 
 the enemy. 
 
 "Let him come on! Let him come on like a 
 man ! — Take that, you rufifian, and that ! " 
 
 Gammon, knowing the conflict grossly unequal, 
 did not scruple to pursue his own attack. Polperro, 
 svildly thrashing about him with both fists, excited 
 wrath in every direction. There was a general 
 scrimmage; shouts of rage mingled with wild 
 laughter ; the throng crushed this way and that. 
 Grappling in his own defence with a big brute who 
 had clutched his throat. Gammon saw Polperro go 
 down. It was his last glimpse of the unfortunate 
 man. Fighting savagely, he found himself borne 
 far away by an irresistible rush ; and when he had 
 lost sight of his foe, he tried vainly to return to the 
 place where Polperro had fallen. The police were 
 now interfering ; the crowd swayed more violently 
 than ever, and began to scatter itself in off-streets. 
 
 From church towers of East and West chimes 
 rang merrily for the New Year. Softly fell the snow 
 from a black sky, and was forthwith trodden into 
 slush. 
 
 Though he was badly mauled and felt sick, Gam-
 
 238 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 mon would not abandon the hope of discovering his 
 friend. After resting for a few minutes against the 
 front of a shop he moved again into the crowd, now 
 much thinner, and soon to be altogether dispersed. 
 The helmets of policemen drew him in a certain 
 direction ; two constables were clearing the way, 
 and he addressed them, asking whether they had 
 seen a bareheaded man recently damaged in a fight. 
 
 " There's been a disturbance over yonder," one 
 replied carelessly, pointing to a spot whence other 
 helmets could be discerned. 
 
 Thither Gammon made his way. He found police 
 and public gathered thickly about some person in- 
 visible ; a vigorous effort, and he got near enough 
 to see a recumbent body, quite still, on which the 
 flakes of snow were falling. 
 
 " Let me look at him," he requested of a constable 
 who would have pushed him away. " It's a friend 
 of mine, I believe." 
 
 Yes, it was Lord Polperro ; unconscious and with 
 blood about his mouth. 
 
 The police were waiting, as a matter of professional 
 routine, to see whether he recovered his senses ; 
 they had of course classed him as, " drunk and in- 
 capable." 
 
 " I say," Gammon whispered to one of them, 
 " let me tell you who that is." 
 
 The conference led to a summoning of a cab, which, 
 by police direction, was driven to the nearest hos- 
 pital, St. Bartholomew's. Here Gammon soon
 
 NEW YEARS EVE 239 
 
 learnt that the case was considered serious ; so se- 
 rious that the patient had been put to bed, and must 
 there remain. 
 
 Utterly done up, Gammon threw himself into the 
 cab, to be driven to Kennington Road. When he 
 reached Mrs. Bubb's he was fast asleep ; but there 
 a voice addressed him which restored his conscious- 
 ness very quickly indeed.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 HIS LORDSHIP RETIRES 
 
 It was the voice of Greenacre, unsteady with wrath, 
 stripped utterly of its bland intonations. 
 
 *' So here you are ! What have you been up to, 
 Gammon ? Are you drunk? " 
 
 Just as the cab drove up, Greenacre was turning 
 reluctantly from the house-door, where he had held 
 a warm parley with Mrs. Bubb ; the landlady irri- 
 table at being disturbed in her first sleep ; the un- 
 timely visitor much ruffled in temper by various 
 causes. 
 
 " Drunk ! " echoed Gammon, as he leapt to the 
 pavement and clutched at Greenacre's arm, " drunk 
 yourself, more likely ! Where have you been since 
 you sent that telegram ? — Hold on a minute." He 
 paid the cabman. " Now, then, give an account of 
 yourself." 
 
 " What the devil do you mean ? " cried the other. 
 " What account do I owe to you ? " 
 
 " Well, I might answer i/iat question," said Gam- 
 mon, with a grin, " if I took time to calculate." 
 
 " We can't talk in the street at this time of night, 
 240
 
 HIS LORDSHIP RETIRES 241 
 
 with snow coming down. Suppose we go up to 
 your room ? " 
 
 " As you please. But I advise you to talk quietly ; 
 the walls and the floors are not over thick." 
 
 The latch-key admitted them, and they went on 
 .softly as possible up the stairs ; only one involun- 
 tary kick from Greenacre on sounding wood causing 
 his host to mutter a malediction. By a light in the 
 bed room they viewed each other, and Greenacre 
 showed astonishment. 
 
 " So you are drunk — or have been ! You've got 
 a black eye, and your clothes are all pulled about. 
 You've been in a row." 
 
 " You're not far wrong. Tell me what yotive been 
 doing, and you shall hear where the row was and 
 who was with me." 
 
 " Gammon, you've been behaving like a cad — a 
 scoundrel. I didn't think it of you. You went to 
 that place in Sloane Street. No use lying; I've 
 been told you were there. You must have found 
 out I was going away, and you've played old Harry. 
 I didn't think you were a fellow of that sort ; I had 
 more faith in you." 
 
 Upon mutual recrimination followed an exchange 
 
 of narratives. Greenacre's came first. He was the 
 
 victim, he declared, of such ill luck as rarely befell 
 
 a man. Arriving at Euston by the Irish mail, and 
 
 hastening to get a cab, whom should he encounter 
 
 on the very platform but a base-minded ruffian who 
 
 nursed a spite against him ; a low fellow who had 
 16
 
 242 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 taken advantage of his good-nature, and who — in 
 short a man from whom it was impossible to escape, 
 for several good reasons, until they had spent some 
 hours together. He got off a telegram to Lord Pol- 
 perro and could do no more till nearly eleven o'clock 
 at night. Arriving headlong at Lowndes Mansions, 
 he learnt with disgust what had gone on there in his 
 absence. And now, what defence had Gammon to 
 offer ? What was his game ? 
 
 " I guess pretty well what yours is, my boy," 
 answered the listener, " and I'm not sorry I've spoilt 
 it." 
 
 Thereupon he related the singular train of events 
 between breakfast time this (or rather yesterday) 
 morning and the ringing out of the Old Year. When 
 it came to a description of Lord Polperro's accident, 
 Greenacre lost all control of himself. 
 
 "Ass! Blockhead! You know no better than 
 to let such a man in his state of health, get mixed 
 up in a crowd of roughs at midnight ? Good God ! 
 He may die !" 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder a bit," returned Gammon 
 coolly. " If he does, it may be awkward for you, 
 eh?" 
 
 From his story he had omitted one detail; think- 
 ing it better to keep silence about the burning of 
 the will until he learnt more than Greenacre had as 
 yet avowed to him. 
 
 " Fool ! " blustered the other. '' Idiot ! " 
 
 " You'd better stop that, Greenacre or I sha'n't be
 
 HIS LORDSHIP RETIRES 243 
 
 the only man with a black eye. Do you want to be 
 kicked downstairs ? Or would you prefer to drop 
 out of the window ? Keep a civil tongue in your 
 head." 
 
 At this moment both were startled into silence by 
 a violent thumping at the wall. It came from the 
 room which used to be occupied by Polly Sparkes, 
 and was accompanied by angry verbal remonstrance 
 from a lodger disturbed in his slumbers. 
 
 " Didn't I tell you ? " muttered Gammont^' You'd 
 better get home and go to bed ; the walk will cool 
 you down. It's all up with your little game for the 
 present. Look here," he added, in a friendly 
 whisper, " you may as well tell me. Has he another 
 wife?" 
 
 " Find out ! " was Greenacre's surly answer, " and 
 go to the devil ! " 
 
 A rush, a scuffling, a crash somewhere which shook 
 the house. The disturbed lodger flung open his door 
 and shouted objurgations. From below sounded 
 the shrill alarm of Mrs. Bubb ; from elsewhere the 
 anxious outcries of Mrs. Cheeseman and her husband. 
 Amid all this, Greenacre and his quondam friend 
 somehow reached the foot of the stairs, where 
 the darkness that enveloped their struggle was all 
 at once dispersed by a candle in the hand of Mrs. 
 Bubb. 
 
 " Don't alarm yourself," shouted Gammon, cheerily 
 " I'm only kicking this fellow out. No one hurt ! " 
 
 " Well, Mr. Gammon, I do think—"
 
 244 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 But the landlady's protest was cut sho/t by a loud 
 slamming of the house-door. 
 
 " It's nothing," said the man of commerce, breath, 
 ing hard. " Very sorry to have disturbed you 
 all. It sha'n't happen again. Good-night, Mrs. 
 Bubb." 
 
 He ran up to his room, laughed a good deal as he 
 undressed, and was asleep in five minutes afterwards. 
 Before closing his eyes he said to himself that he 
 must rise at seven ; business claimed him to-morrow, 
 and he felt it necessary to see Mrs. Clover (or Lady 
 P.olperro) with the least possible delay. However 
 tired. Gammon could always wake at the hour he 
 appointed. The dark snowy morning found him 
 little disposed to turn out ; he had something of a 
 headache, and a very bad taste in the mouth ; for 
 all that, he faced duty with his accustomed vigour. 
 Of course he had to leave the house without break- 
 fast, but a cup of tea at the nearest eating-house sup- 
 plied his immediate wants, and straightway he be- 
 took himself to the china-shop near Battersea Park 
 Road. 
 
 That was not a pleasant meeting with his friend 
 Mrs. Clover. To describe all that had happened 
 yesterday would have taxed his powers at any time ; 
 at eight-thirty A. M. on the first of January, his head 
 aching and his stomach ill at ease, he was not likely 
 to achieve much in the way of lucid narrative. Mrs. 
 Clover regarded him with a severe look. His mani- 
 fest black eye and an unwonted slovenliness of ap-
 
 HIS LORDSHIP RETIRES 245 
 
 pearance could not but suggest that he had taken 
 leave of the bygone year in a too fervid spirit. His 
 explanations she found difificulty in believing ; but 
 the upshot of it all, the fact that her husband lay at 
 St, Bartholomew's Hospital, seemed beyond doubt, 
 aTid this it was that mainly concerned her. 
 
 " I shall go at once," she said in a hard tone, turn- 
 ing her face from him. 
 
 " But there's something else I must tell you," 
 pursued Gammon, with much awkwardness. "You 
 don't know — who to ask for." 
 
 The woman's eyes, even now not in their depths 
 unkindly, searched him with a startled expres- 
 sion. 
 
 " I suppose I shall ask for Mr. Clover ? " 
 
 " They w^ouldn't know who you meant. That isn't 
 his real name." 
 
 A cry escaped her; she turned pale. 
 
 " Not his real name? I thought it — I was afraid 
 of that ! Who am I, then ? What — what have I a 
 right to call myself?" 
 
 With a glance to the door of the sitting-room, — 
 nervousness bringing the sweat to his forehead, — 
 Gammon told what he knew ; all except the burning 
 of the will and the fact of Greenacre's mission to 
 Ireland. The listener was at first sight utterly be- 
 wildered, looked incredulous, and only when certain 
 details had been repeated and emphasised began to 
 grasp the reality of what she heard. 
 
 " Oh ! " she exclaimed at length, in profound agi-
 
 246 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 tation, " that explains so many things ! I never 
 thought of this, but I've often wondered. I under- 
 stand now." 
 
 She paused, struggh'ng to control herself. Then 
 not without dignity, in the tone and with the face 
 that are natural at such moments only to a woman 
 here and there, the nobler of her sex, she added : 
 
 " I can't go to the hospital. Some one else must 
 tell me about him. I can't go." 
 
 "I shall have time to call on my way," said Gam- 
 mon, " and I could send you a wire."' 
 
 " Will you ?— I cant go ! " 
 
 She sobbed, but quietly, hiding her face in her 
 hands. Gammon, more distressed by her emotion 
 than he had ever felt at the sight of a woman weep- 
 ing, did his clumsy best to solace her. He would 
 call at the hospital straight away, and telegraph the 
 news as soon as possible. And anything else he 
 could learn about Lord Polperro should be made 
 known to her without delay. He wrote on a piece 
 of paper the address in Sloane Street, and that of 
 the house in Stanhope Gardens. On the point of 
 departure, something occurred to him that it was 
 wise to say. 
 
 " I shouldn't do anything just yet ! " He looked 
 at her impressively. " In your position, I should 
 just wait a little. I'm sure it would be better, and 
 I may be able to give you a reason before long." 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " I shall do nothing — nothing."
 
 HIS LORDSHIP RETIRES 247 
 
 '• That's best,I assure you. You're not angry with 
 me ? You'll shake hands ? " 
 
 She gave him her hand ; withdrew it quickly ; 
 turned to hide her face again. And Gammon hast- 
 ened Citywards. 
 
 A telegram came from him in little more than an 
 hour. It reported that the patient was still uncon- 
 scious and dangerously ill. 
 
 When, later in the afternoon, Gammon went to the 
 hospital to make another inquiry, he learnt that 
 Lord Polperro was dead. 
 
 Turning away, debating whether to send the 
 widow a telegram, or to break the news by word of 
 mouth, he saw a cab drive up, out of which jumped 
 Mr. Greenacre. Their eyes met, but they exchanged 
 no sign of recognition. Scarcely, however, had he 
 walked a dozen yards, when a quick step sounded 
 behind him, and he was addressed in tones of the 
 most conciliatory politeness. 
 
 " Gammon — may I beg one word ? I owe you an 
 apology. My behaviour last night was quite unjusti- 
 fiable. I can only explain it by the fact that I had 
 undergone a severe trial of the nerves ; I was not 
 myself. May I hope, my dear Gammon, to be for- 
 given ? I apologise most humbly — believe me." 
 
 " Oh, that's all right," replied the other with a 
 grin, " I hope I didn't hurt you?" 
 
 " My dear fellow, it would have served me right. 
 But no — just a few trifling bruises. By-the-bye, ouf 
 friend has departed."
 
 248 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 " Dead— yes." 
 
 " Do you know, Gammon, I think we ought to 
 have a quiet talk. You and I have common inter- 
 ests with this matter. There will be an inquest, you 
 know, and— the fact is, I think "—he spoke very con- 
 fidentially—" it might be as well for us both if we 
 came to some sort of mutual understanding. As 
 things have turned out, we are victims of circum- 
 stances. Might I suggest— with all deference— that 
 we should dine together very quietly? I know a 
 very suitable place. It's early for dinner, but, to 
 tell the truth, I have had no particular appetite to- 
 day ; in fact, have hardly touched food." 
 
 Gammon accepted this invitation and decided to 
 send a telegram to the china-shop. 
 
 Their conference, tentative on both sides for the 
 first half hour, led eventually to a frank disclosure 
 of all that was in their minds with regard to Lord 
 Polperro. Each possessed of knowledge that made 
 him formidable to the other, should their attitude 
 be one of mutual hostility, they agreed, in Green- 
 acre's phrase, to "pool " all information, and then 
 see how they stood. Herein, Gammon had the ad- 
 vantage ; he learnt much more than it was in his 
 power to communicate; for whilst Greenacre had 
 been playing a deliberate game, the man of com- 
 merce had become possessed of secrets only by 
 chance — which his friends naturally could not 
 believe. 
 
 Greenacre had been to Ireland on the track of a
 
 HIS LORDSHIP RETIRES 249 
 
 woman whom Lord Polperro had lost sight of for 
 some five-and-twenty years ; he had obtained satis- 
 factory evidence that this woman was dead ; a 
 matter of some moment, seeing that, if still alive, 
 she would have been his lordship's wife. The date 
 of her death was seven years and a few months ago. 
 
 "By jorrocks ! " cried the listener at this point, 
 greatly disturbed. " Then Mrs. Clover — as we call 
 her — wasn't really his wife at all ? " 
 
 " I regret to say that she was not," replied Green- 
 acre, with proper solemnity. " I grieve to tell you 
 that jOur deceased friend committed bigamy. Our 
 deceased friend was a most peculiar man. I can't 
 say that I approve of his life — viewed as a whole." 
 
 Then came Gammon's disclosure about the burn- 
 ing of the will, and about Lord Polperro's intention 
 to see his solicitor. Greenacre smiled grimly. 
 
 " If I may make a personal remark, Gammon," 
 he said, in measured tones, " I will confess that / 
 should never have allowed the destruction of that 
 document. You, my friend, if I am not mistaken, 
 had a still greater interest in preventing it. That 
 will provided very handsomely for Mrs. Clover, for 
 Miss Clover, and — I may say liberally — for a young 
 lady named Miss Sparkes." 
 
 He smiled more grimly than ever. Gammon 
 drew in his breath and refrained from speech. 
 
 " Of course I understand his motives," pursued 
 Greenacre. " They were prudent, no doubt, and 
 well meaning. He did not foresee that there would
 
 250 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 be no opportunity for that interview with his 
 solicitor." 
 
 " Look here, Greenacre. I want to know how 
 you found out first of all that he'd married twice." 
 
 " Very simply. I took it lor £-r anted that he had. 
 I am a student, as you know, of genealogy ; also of 
 human nature in general. In my first interview 
 with Lord Polperro, I let fall a word or two which 
 obviously alarmed him. That was quite enough. 
 In his singular state of mind, he jumped to the con- 
 clusion that, as they say on the stage, I knew every- 
 thing ; and of course, I very soon did. As much, 
 that is to say, as he himself knew. He married, at 
 two-and-twenty, a young girl whom he met in 
 Ireland; married her in his right name — Trefoyle 
 (not Clover) — and they travelled together for a year 
 or two. Then somehow they parted, and never saw 
 or heard of each other again. No, there was no 
 child. I had little difificulty in persuading his lord- 
 ship to let me investigate this matter for him ; I did 
 it with complete success. The girl belonged to a 
 peasant family, I may tell you ; she led, on the 
 whole, a decidedly adventurous life, and died sud- 
 denly on a ship in which she was returning to the old 
 country from America. I gather that she never knew 
 of her husband's aristocratic connexion. Of course 
 I was discretion itself whilst making these inquiries, 
 and I feel pretty sure that no claim will ever be 
 made from t/tat quarter — the present family — on 
 our friend's estate."
 
 HIS LORDSHIP RETIRES 2$! 
 
 " Why, then," exclaimed Gammon, " what is to 
 prevent Mrs. Clover from coming forward ? She 
 knows nothing ; she needn't ever hear a word." 
 
 " Gammon, you surprise me. Clearly you haven't 
 the legal mind. How could you reconcile yourself 
 to stand by whilst the law of your country was so 
 grossly defeated ? " 
 
 "Humbug! Don't use such long words, old 
 chap. But perhaps Polperro's family knew of the 
 marriage ? " 
 
 "They did not, I can assure you. Our friend 
 was the kind of man who doesn't like the class in 
 which he was born ; he preferred a humbler station. 
 He was never on very good terms with his rela- 
 tives." 
 
 " Well then. Gammon persisted, " who is to let 
 them know that Mrs. Clover wasn't the real wife? 
 Hanged if I see why she shouldn't come for- 
 ward ! " 
 
 " My friend," replied Greenacre, smiling gently, 
 *' it will be m}' privilege to make known all the facts 
 of this case to the Honourable Miss Trefoyle, his 
 lordship's nearest surviving relative." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " I regard it as a simple duty. I cannot even 
 argue the subject, Gammon, if j'oti have no con- 
 science /have." 
 
 Gammon sat pondering, until light began to break 
 upon him. The other, meanwhile, watched his 
 countenance.
 
 252 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 "I see," he said at length bluntly. "You think 
 it'll do you more good to take that side. I see." 
 
 " Gammon, my leanings are aristocratic. They 
 always were. It puts me at a disadvantage, some- 
 times, in our democratic society. But I disregard 
 that. You may call it prejudice. I, for my part, 
 prefer to call it principle. I take my stand, always 
 on the side of birth and position. When you have 
 thought about it, I am sure you will forgive this 
 weakness in me. It need not affect our friend- 
 ship." 
 
 " Wait a bit. There's another question I want 
 to ask. What had Lord Polperro to do with the 
 Quodlings?" 
 
 " The Quodlings? Ah ! I grieve to tell you that 
 Francis Quodling, an illegitimate half-brother of 
 our friend, had of late given trouble to his lordship. 
 Francis Quodling has long been in Queer Street ; 
 he seemed to think that he had a claim — a natural 
 claim, I might say — on Lord Polperro. When you 
 first met his lordship he had been seeing the other 
 Quodling on this matter. Pure kindness of heart — 
 he was very kind-hearted. He wanted to heal a 
 breach between the brothers, and, if possible, to get 
 Francis a partnership in the firm — your firm. I 
 fear he exerted himself vainly." 
 
 " Greenacre ! " exclaimed the man of commerce, 
 thumping the table, " it's beastly hard lines that 
 that woman and her daughter shouldn't have a 
 penny ! "
 
 HIS LORDSHIP RETIRES 253 
 
 ** I agree with you. By the bye, you have told 
 her?" 
 
 " Yes, this morning." 
 
 " Gammon, you are so impulsive. Still, I sup- 
 pose she had to know. Yes, I suppose it was in- 
 evitable. Will she molest his relatives do you 
 think?" 
 
 "She?" Gammon reflected. " I can't quite see 
 her doing it. She may be a bit angry, but — no, I 
 don't think she'll bother anybody. I can't see her 
 doing it." 
 
 And still he meditated. 
 
 " You reserve to yourself, I presume, the duty of 
 acquainting her with these painful facts ? " 
 
 " Me tell her ? — why, I suppose I must if it comes 
 to that. But — I'm hanged if I shall enjoy it. Who 
 else knows? Jorrocks ! there's Polly. I'd for- 
 gotten Polly ! " 
 
 Gammon grew perplexed in mind and shadowed 
 in countenance. Of a truth Polly Sparkes had not 
 once entered his mind since he saw her yesterday. 
 But he must see her again, and that to-night. Whew ! 
 He would now have given a substantial sum to 
 deprive Polly of the knowledge he had so recklessly 
 confided to her. 
 
 " You are impulsive, my friend," remarked the 
 other, quietly amused. " Impulsive and lacking in 
 foresight." 
 
 " And you — ! Never mind ; I won't say it. 
 Still, you used to be a puzzle to me, Greenacre ;
 
 254 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 now I feel as if I was beginning to understand you 
 a bit." 
 
 The man of foresight — he was remarkably well- 
 dressed this evening — watched the smoke from his 
 cigarette and smiled.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE traveller's FICKLENESS AND FRAUD. 
 
 In due course, a coroner and his jury sat on the 
 body of Lord Polperro ; in the order of things, this 
 inquest was pubhcly reported. Readers of news- 
 papers learnt that the eccentric nobleman, though 
 in a weak state of health, had the indiscretion to 
 mingle with a crowd on New Year's Eve ; that he 
 either accidentally fell, or was knocked down by some 
 person unknown in the rough-and-tumble of the 
 hour ; in short, that his death might fairly be ac- 
 counted for by misadventure. The results of the 
 autopsy were not made known in detail, but a pro- 
 fessional whisper went about that among the causes 
 contributory to Lord Polperro's death were : con- 
 gestion of the lungs, softening of the brain, chronic 
 inflammation of the stomach, drunkard's liver, and 
 Bright's disease of the kidneys. 
 
 The unprofessional persons who came forward 
 were Mr. Gammon, Lord Polperro's housekeeper, 
 and Miss Trefoyle. The name of Greenacre was 
 not so much as mentioned ; the existence of a lady 
 named Mrs. Clover remained unknown to court and 
 public.
 
 256 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 On the following day, Mr. Gammon had a private 
 interview with Miss Trefoyle. He was aware that 
 this privilege had already been sought by, and 
 granted to, Mr. Greenacre ; and as his one great 
 object was to avert shame and sorrow from his 
 friends at Battersea Park, Gammon acquitted him- 
 self with entire discretion ; that is to say, he did not 
 allow Miss Trefoyle to suspect that there had been 
 anything between him and her brother except a 
 sort of boon companionship. In behaving thus, he 
 knew that he was acting as Mrs. Clover most 
 earnestly desired. Not many hours before, he had 
 discharged what he felt to be his duty, had made 
 known to Mrs. Clover the facts of her position, and 
 had heard the unforgettable accent of her voice as 
 she entreated him to keep this secret. That there 
 might be no doubt as to the truth of Greenacre's 
 assertions he had accompanied that gentleman to 
 Somerset House, and had perused certain entries 
 in the registers of marriage and of death indicated 
 to him by an official forefinger ; clearly, then, if he 
 and Greenacre kept silence it would never become 
 known even to Polperro's kinsfolk that his lordship 
 had been guilty of bigamy. 
 
 Stay ; one other person knew the true name of 
 Mrs. Clover's husband ; Polly Sparkes. " Polly be 
 hanged ! " — muttered Mr. Gammon. 
 
 "When is the wedding?" Greenacre inquired, 
 casually in one of their conversations. 
 
 " Wedding ? Whose wedding ? ' *
 
 THE traveller's FICKLENESS 257 
 
 " Why, yours ? " 
 
 Gammon's face darkened. A change had come 
 about in his emotions. He was afraid of Polly ; 
 he was weary of Polly ; he heartily wished he had 
 never seen Polly's face. For self-scrutiny Gammon 
 had little inclination and less aptitude ; he could 
 not have explained the origin and progress of his 
 nearer relations with Miss Sparkes. Going straight 
 to the point, like a man of business, he merely knew 
 that he had made a condemnable mistake, and the 
 question was how to put things right. 
 
 " There's one bit of luck," he remarked, instead of 
 answering the inquiry. " She isn't on speaking 
 terms with her aunt." 
 
 " I'm rather glad to hear that. But do you think 
 she'll hold out against her curiosity ? " 
 
 " In any case, she won't learn anything from Mrs. 
 Clover. I'm pretty sure of that." 
 
 " I can only hope you're right about Mrs. Clover," 
 said Greenacre, musingly. *' If so, she must be a 
 rather uncommon sort of woman ; especially — if 
 you will excuse the remark — in that class." 
 
 " She is," replied Gammon, with noteworthy em- 
 phasis. " I don't know a woman like her, — no one 
 like her. I wouldn't mind betting all I have that 
 she'll never speak a word, as long as she lives, about 
 that man. She'll never tell her daughter. Minnie 
 will suppose that her father turned up somehow 
 just for a few hours and then went off again for 
 good and all." 
 14
 
 258 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 " Remarkable woman," murmured Greenacre. 
 ** It saves trouble of course." 
 
 Possibly he was reflecting whether it might be to 
 his advantage or not to reveal this little matter in 
 Stanhope Gardens. Perhaps it seemed to him on the 
 whole that he had done wisely in making known to 
 Miss Trefoyle only the one marriage (which she 
 might publish or not as her conscience dictated), and 
 that his store of private knowledge was the richer 
 by a detail he might or might not some day utilize. 
 For Mr. Greenacre had a delicacy of his own. He 
 did not merely aim at sordid profits. In avowing 
 his weakness for aristocratic companionship, he told 
 a truth which explained many singularities in what 
 would otherwise have been a career of commonplace 
 dishonesty. 
 
 " I suppose she must be told," said Gammon, with 
 bent head, " Polly, I mean." 
 
 " Miss Sparkes is a young lady of an inquiring 
 spirit. She will want to know why she does not 
 benefit by Lord Polperro's death." 
 
 " You told her yourself about the will, remem- 
 ber." 
 
 " I did. As things turn out, it was a pity. By 
 the bye, I should like to have seen that document. 
 As Cuthbertson has no knowledge of it, our deceased 
 friend no doubt draughted it himself. More likely 
 than not it would have been both amusing and 
 profitable to the lawyers — like his father's in the 
 days of our youth. I wonder whether he called
 
 THE traveller's FICKLENESS 259 
 
 Mrs. Clover his wife ? We shall never solve all these 
 interesting doubts." 
 
 " I had better not let Polly know he burnt it," 
 remarked Gammon. 
 
 " Why, no ; I shouldn't advise that," said the 
 other, with a smile. " But I have heard that mar- 
 ried men — " 
 
 " Shut up ! I'm not going to marry her." 
 
 Driven to this bold declaration, Gammon at once 
 felt such great relief that he dared everything. 
 
 "Then there'll be the devil to pay," said Green- 
 agre. 
 
 " Wait a bit. Of course I shall take my time 
 about breaking off." 
 
 " Gammon, I am surprised and shocked — not for 
 the first time — at your utter want of principle." 
 
 Each caught the other's eye. The muscles of 
 their faces relaxed and they joined in a mirthful 
 peal. 
 
 It was a long and exciting week for the town 
 traveller. Greenacre, always on the lookout for 
 romance in common life, was never surprised when 
 he discovered it, but to Gammon it came with such 
 a sense of novelty that he had much ado to keep a 
 clear head for everyday affairs. He drove about 
 London as usual, but beset with fantastic visions 
 and desires. Not only was Polly quite dismissed 
 from his thoughts (in the tender sense) but he found 
 himself constantly occupied with the image of Mrs. 
 Clover, heretofore seldom in his mind, notwithstand-
 
 26o THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 ing her brightness and comeliness and the friendship 
 they had so long felt for each other. Minnie he had 
 forgotten ; the mother came before him in such a 
 new light that he could hardly believe his former 
 wish to call her mother-in-law. This strange emo- 
 tion was very disturbing. As if he had not worry 
 enough already ! 
 
 Delicacy kept him away from the china-shop. 
 He knew how hard it must be for the poor woman 
 to disguise her feelings before Minnie and other 
 people. Minnie, to be sure, would understand signs 
 of distress as a result of her father's brief reappear- 
 ance ; but Mrs. Clover's position was no less lamen- 
 table. He wished to be at her side, endeavouring 
 to console her. Yet as likely as not all he said would 
 give her more pain than comfort. 
 
 Ah ! But there was a woman ! Was he likely 
 ever to meet another who had pluck and goodness 
 and self-respect like hers ? — ^.Minnie ? Some day per- 
 haps ; being her mother's daughter. But Minnie 
 after all was little more than a child. And he could 
 no longer think of her in the old way ; it made him 
 uncomfortable if he tried to do so. 
 
 Polly ? Ah, Polly ! Polly be hanged ! 
 
 He had an appointment with her for this evening. 
 Not at the theatre door ; for Polly no longer went 
 to the theatre. Change in the management had put 
 an end to her pleasant and lucrative evenings ; she 
 had tried in vain to get like employment at other 
 places. In a letter received this morning, she re-
 
 THE traveller's FICKLENESS 261 
 
 marked significantly that of course it Wcis not worth 
 while to take up any other pursuits again. It could 
 not be called a delightful letter, from any point of 
 view. Polly had grown tired of uniform sweetness 
 and indulged herself in phrases of an acid flavour. 
 ' '* Haven't you got anything yet to tell me about 
 the will ? If I don't hear anything from you before 
 long I shall jolly well go and ask somebody else. I 
 believe you know more than you want to tell, which 
 I call it shameful. Mind you bring some news to- 
 night." 
 
 They met at six o'clock in the Lowther Arcade ; 
 it was raining, cold, and generally comfortless. By 
 way of cheery beginning, Gammon declared that he 
 was hungry and invited Miss Sparkes to eat with 
 him. They transferred themselves to a restaurant 
 large enough to allow of their conversing as they 
 chose under cover of many noises. Gammon had by 
 this time made up his mind to a very bold step, a 
 strategem so audacious that assuredly it deserved to 
 succeed. Only despair could have supplied him with 
 such a suggestion, and with the nerve requisite for 
 carrying it out. 
 
 " What about that will? " asked Polly, as soon as 
 they were seated and the order had been given. 
 
 "There is no will." 
 
 This answer, and the carelessness with which it 
 was uttered took, away Polly's breath. She glared, 
 and unconsciously handled a table knife in an alarm- 
 ing way.
 
 262 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 " What d'you mean ? Who are you kidding?" 
 
 " He's left no will. And what's more, if he had, 
 your name wouldn't have been in it, old girl." 
 
 " Oh ! indeed ! We'll soon see about that ! I'll go 
 straight from 'ere to that 'ouse — see if I don't ! I'll 
 gee his sister for myself this very night — so there." 
 
 " Go it, Polly. You're welcome, my dear. You'll 
 wake 'em up in Stanhope Gardens." 
 
 The waiter interrupted their colloquy. Gammon 
 began to eat ; Polly, heeding not the savoury dish, 
 kept fierce eyes upon him. 
 
 " What d'you mean ? Don't go stufifing like a pig, 
 but listen to me, and tell me what you're up to." 
 
 " You're talking about Lord P. ain't you ? " asked 
 Gammon in a lower voice. 
 
 " Course I am," 
 
 " And you think he was your uncle. So did I 
 till a few days ago. Well, Polly, he wasn't. Lord P. 
 didn't know you from Adam, nor your aunt either." 
 
 He chuckled, and ate voraciously. The artifice 
 seemed to him better and better ; enjoyment of it 
 gave him a prodigious appetite. 
 
 " If you'll get on with your eating, I'll tell you 
 about it. Do you remember what I told you about 
 the fellow Quodling in the City ? Well, listen to 
 this. Lord P. had another brother knocking about — 
 you understand ; a brother like Quodling, who had 
 no name of his own. And this brother, Polly, is 
 your uncle Clover." 
 
 Miss Sparkes did not fail to understand, but she
 
 THE traveller's FICKLENESS 263 
 
 at once and utterly declined to credit the state- 
 ment. 
 
 " You mean to say it wasn't Lord P. at all as I 
 met — as I saw at the theatre? " 
 
 " You saw his illegitimate brother, your uncle ; 
 "and never Lord P. at all. Now just listen. This fel- 
 low who called himself Clover is a precious rascal. 
 We don't know as much about him as we'd like to, 
 but I daresay we shall find out more. How did he 
 come to be sitting with those ladies in the theatre, 
 you're wanting to ask. Simple enough. Knowing 
 his likeness to the family of Lord Polperro he 
 palmed himself off on them as a distant relative, 
 just come back from the Colonies ; they were silly 
 enough to make things soft for him. He seems to 
 have got money, no end of it, out of Lord P. No 
 doubt he was jolly frightened when you spotted 
 him, and you know how he met you once or twice 
 and tipped you. That's the story of your Uncle 
 Clover, Polly." 
 
 The girl was impressed. She could believe any- 
 thing ill of Mrs. Clover's husband. Her astonish- 
 ment at learning that he was a lord had never wholly 
 subsided. That he should be a cunning rascal seemed 
 vastly more probable. 
 
 "But what about that letter you sent — eh?" 
 pursued Gammon with an artful look. ** Didn't you 
 address it to Lord P. himself ? — So you did, Polly. 
 But listen to this. By that time Lord P. and his 
 people had found out Clover's little game ; never
 
 264 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 mind how, but they had. You remember that he 
 wouldn't come again to meet you at Lincoln's Inn. 
 Good reason, old girl ; he had had to make himself 
 scarce. Lord P. had set a useful friend of his — that's 
 Greenacre — to look into Clover's history. Green- 
 acre, you must know, is a private detective." He 
 nodded solemnly. " Well now, when your letter 
 came to Lord P. he showed it to Greenacre, and 
 they saw at once that it couldn't be meant for him, 
 but no doubt was meant for Clover. ' I'll see to this, 
 said Greenacre. And so he came to meet us that 
 night." 
 
 " But it v^2s yoii told me he was Lord P.," came 
 from the listener. 
 
 "I did, Polly. Not to deceive you, my dear; 
 but because I was taken in myself. I'd found what 
 they call a mare's nest. I was on the wrong scent. 
 I take all the blame to myself." 
 
 " But why did Greenacre go on with us like that ? 
 Why didn't he say at once that it wasn't Lord P. as 
 had met me? " 
 
 " Why ? Because private detectives are cautious 
 chaps. Greenacre wanted to catch Clover, and 
 didn't care to go talking about the story to every- 
 body. He deceived me, Polly, just as much as 
 you." 
 
 She had begun to eat, swallowing a mouthful now 
 and then mechanically, the look of resentful suspicion 
 still on her face. 
 
 " And what do you think ? " pursued her com-
 
 THE traveller's FICKLENESS 265 
 
 panion, after a delicious draught of lager beer. 
 " Would you believe that, only a day or two before 
 Lord P.'s death, the fellow Clover went to your aunt's 
 house, to the china-shop, and stayed over night there ! 
 What do you think of that, eh ? He did. Ask Mrs. 
 Clover. He went there to hide, and to get money 
 from his wife." 
 
 This detail evidently had a powerful effect. Polly 
 ate and drank and ruminated, one eye on the 
 speaker. 
 
 " I got to know of that," went on the wily Gam- 
 mon, and I told Greenacre. And Greenacre made 
 me tell it to Lord P. himself. And that's how 
 I came to be with Lord P. on New Year's Eve ! 
 Now you've got it all." 
 
 "Why didn't you tell me?" asked Polly with 
 ferocity. 
 
 " Ah, why ? I was ashamed to, my dear. I 
 couldn't own up that I'd made a fool of myself and 
 you too." 
 
 " How did you know that he'd been at my 
 aunt's?" 
 
 " She sent for me, Polly ; sent for me, and told 
 me, because I was an old friend. And I was so 
 riled at the fellow coming and going in that way, 
 that I spoke to Greenacre about it. And then 
 Greenacre told me how things were, I felt a fool, I 
 can tell you. But the fact is, I never saw two men 
 so like in the face as Clover and Lord P." 
 
 " When you was there — at my aunt's — did you
 
 266 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 talk about me?" asked the girl with a peculiar 
 awkwardness. 
 
 " Not a word, I swear ! We were too much taken 
 up with the other business." 
 
 For a minute or two neither spoke. 
 
 "And you mean to say," burst at length from 
 Polly, " that my uncle's still alive and going about ? " 
 
 " All alive and kicking ; not a doubt of it ; and 
 Lord P. buried at Kensal Green ; no will left behind 
 him ; and all his property going to the next of kin, 
 of course. — Now listen here, Polly. I want to tell 
 you that I shouldn't wonder if you have a letter 
 from Greenacre. He may be asking you to meet 
 him." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 "Just to have a talk about Clover— see? He's 
 still after Clover, and he thinks you might be of use 
 to him. I leave it to you — understand ? You can 
 meet him if you like ; there's no harm. He'll tell 
 you all the story, if you ask him nicely." 
 
 On this idea, which had occurred to him in the 
 course of his glowing mendacity. Gammon acted 
 as soon as he and Polly had said good-by. He 
 discovered Greenacre, who no longer slept at the 
 Bilboes, but in a house of like cosiness and obscurity 
 a little further west ; told him of the brilliant in- 
 genuity with which he had escaped from a galling 
 complication ; and received his promise of assistance 
 in strengthening the plot. Greenacre wrote to Pollj 
 that very night, and on the morrow conversed with
 
 THE traveller's FICKLENESS 267 
 
 her, emphasising by many devices the secrecy and 
 importance of their interview. Would Polly engage 
 to give him the benefit of her shrewdness, her knowl- 
 edge of life, in his search for the man Clover? His 
 air of professional eagerness, his nods, winks and 
 flattery, so wrought upon the girl that she ceased to 
 harbour suspicion ; her primitive mind, much fed on 
 penny fiction, accepted all she was told, and in the 
 consciousness of secret knowledge affecting lords 
 and ladies, she gave up without a sigh the air-drawn 
 vision of being herself actually a member of an aris- 
 tocratic family. 
 
 At the same time she thought of Gammon with 
 disappointment, with vague irritation, and began 
 all but to wish that she had never weakly pardoned 
 him for his insulting violence at Mrs. Bubb's.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE MISSING WORD 
 
 Just at this time, the inhabitants of England — 
 one might say of the British Isles — but more espe- 
 cially those privileged to dwell in London and its sub- 
 urbs, submitted to one of the waves of intellectual 
 excitement, which, as is well known, are wont at in- 
 tervals to pass over this fervidly imaginative people. 
 Some representative person — ingenious, philosophic 
 and ardent for the public good — had conceived in 
 a bright moment a thought destined to stir with zeal 
 the pensive leisure of millions. This genius owned, 
 or edited, a weekly paper already dear to the popu- 
 lace ; and one day he announced in its columns a 
 species of lottery — ignoble word dignified by the 
 use here made of it. Readers — of adequate cul- 
 ture — were invited to exercise their learning and 
 their wit in the conjectural completion of a sentence 
 — no quotation, but an original apophthegm — where- 
 of one word was represented by a blank. Each com- 
 petitor sent, together with the fruit of his eager brain, 
 a small sum of money, and the brilliant enthusiast 
 who at the earliest moment declared the missing 
 
 word reaped as guerdon the total of these number- 
 26S
 
 THE MISSING WORD 269 
 
 less remittances. It was an amusement worthy of 
 our time ; it appealed alike to the villa and the 
 humble lodging, encouraged the habit of literary and 
 logical discussion, gave an impulse to the sale of dic- 
 tionaries. High and low, far and wide, a spirit of 
 noble emulation took hold upon the users of the 
 English tongue. " The missing word " — from every 
 lip fell the phrase which had at first sounded so 
 mysteriously ; its vogue exceeded that, in an earlier 
 time, of " the missing link." The demand for post- 
 age stamps to be used in transmitting the entrance- 
 fee threatened to disorganize that branch of the 
 public service ; sorting clerks and letter-carriers, 
 though themselves contributory, grew dismayed at 
 the additional labour imposed upon them. 
 
 Naturally the infection was caught by most of the 
 lively little group of Londoners in whose fortunes 
 we are interested. Mr. Gammon threw himself 
 with mirthful ardour into a competition which might 
 prove so lucrative. Mr. Greenacre gave part of his 
 supple mind to this new branch of detective energy. 
 The newly-wedded pair, Mr. and Mrs. Nibby, ceased 
 from the wrangling that follows upon a honeymoon, 
 and incited each other to a more profitable contest. 
 The Parish household devoted every possible mo- 
 ment with native earnestness to the choice and the 
 weighing of vocables. Polly Sparkes, unable to get 
 upon the track of her missing uncle, abandoned her 
 fiery intelligence to the missing word. The Cheese- 
 man couple, Mrs. Bubb, nay, even Moggie the gen-
 
 270 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 eral, dared verbal conjecture and risked postage 
 stamps. Only in a certain china-shop near Batter- 
 sea Park Road was the tumult unregarded ; for Mrs. 
 Clover had fallen from her wonted health, her happy 
 temper, and Minnie in good truth cared neither for 
 the recreation nor the dangled prize. 
 
 When Gammon and Polly met, they talked no 
 longer of Lord Polperro or Uncle Clover, but of 
 words. 
 
 " I've got it this time, Polly ! I swear I've got 
 
 it ! — ' Undeserved misfortune, if often a to the 
 
 noble mind, ' why, it's instigation, of course ! " 
 
 " I never heard the word," declared Polly, " I'm 
 sending in stroked 
 
 " Stroke ? " What do you mean by that ? " 
 
 " What do I mean by it ? Why, what they want 
 to say is, that * Undeserved misfortune is often a 
 blow to the noble mind ' — don't they ? But blow 
 can't be the word, 'cause everybody'd get it. The 
 dictionary gives stroke for bloiu, and I'm sure that's 
 it." 
 
 " Rot ! They don't mean to say that at all ! It 
 ain't a blow to the noble mind ; it's just the opposite 
 — that's what tliey mean." 
 
 " How can it be the opposyte ? " shrilled Polly. 
 " Ain't it a knock-down if you get what you don't 
 deserve," 
 
 " I tell you they don't mean that. Can't you un- 
 derstand ? Why, it's as plain as the nose on your 
 face!"
 
 THE MISSING WORD 271 
 
 " Is It ! " retorted Polly with indignation " If I've 
 got d. plain nose, why didn't you tell me so before ? 
 If that's your way of talking to a lady — " 
 
 " Don't be a fool, Polly ! It's a saying, ain't it ? " 
 
 And they parted, as usual, in dudgeon on both 
 sides, which was not soothed when both found them- 
 selves wrong in the literary contest. For the miss- 
 ing word this week, discovered by an East-End 
 licensed victualler, \y2is pick-me-up. 
 
 Public opinion found fault with this editorial 
 English. There rose a general murmur ; the loftier 
 spirits demanded a purer vocabulary ; the multitude 
 wanted to know whether that licensed victualler real- 
 ly existed. All looked for an easy word next week ; 
 easy it must be, this time, or the game would begin 
 to lose its rest. When the new number went forth 
 in its myriads of copies, and was snatched from street 
 vendors, stalls, shops, general expectation seemed to 
 be justified. 
 
 " As nations grow civilised, they give more and 
 more attention to " 
 
 Every man, every woman, had a word ready. Mr. 
 Greenacre said nothing, but hastily wrote down 
 genealogy. Gammon, before consulting with Polly 
 Sparkes, sent off his postage stamps and commerce. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Parish declared in one shout that the 
 word could only be hyjene. 
 
 " Nonsense," said Christopher, who was in the 
 room. " That's just because you're always thinking 
 of it."
 
 272 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 For all that, as he went to business, the word 
 hummed in his head. It might be the solution after 
 all ; his objection originated only in scorn of a word 
 so familiar, and therefore, he had thought at first, so 
 improbable. But really — the more he thought of 
 it— 
 
 In his pocket he carried an envelope, already ad- 
 dressed, and a blank sheet of paper enfolding stamps. 
 Should he once more enter the lottery, risk the price 
 of a luncheon ? He had resolved not to do so, but 
 every moment the temptation gained upon him. 
 " Hyjene " By the bye, how did one spell the word? 
 H-y — he grew uncertain at the third letter. Misspell- 
 ing, he knew, would invalidate his chance ; on the 
 other hand, he must post as soon as possible ; already 
 thousands of answers were on their way to the ofifice 
 of the editor. 
 
 He was sitting in a London Bridge tram-car. At 
 its next stoppage there entered a staid old gentle- 
 man with whom he had made the Cityward journey 
 for years ; they always nodded to each other ; this 
 morning the grave senior chanced to take a place at 
 his side, and a greeting passed between them. 
 Christopher felt a sudden impulse, upon which he 
 acted before timidity and other obstacles could in- 
 terfere. 
 
 " Would you tell me, sir," he whispered, " the 
 c'rect spelling of hyjene — meaning 'ealthiness, you 
 know?" 
 
 " Why, what a queer thing ! " answered his neigh-
 
 THE MISSING WORP 273 
 
 bour, with all friendliness " I've just been reading 
 the word in the paper. Here it is." 
 
 He folded the sheet conveniently for Christopher's 
 inspection and pointed. 
 
 '' H-y-g-i-e-7t-e." 
 ^ Mr. Parish read eagerly, his eyes close to the print, 
 dreading lest he should forget. 
 
 " Thanks, very much, sir. I — a friend of mine 
 told me I was wrong. I knew I wasn't — thanks 
 awfully ! " 
 
 The white-haired man smiled approval and re- 
 turned to his study of the news. Christopher kept 
 spelling the word in silence, and though the weather 
 was very cold, soon perspired under the dread that 
 he had got a letter wrong. At St George's Church 
 agitation quite overcame him ; he hurried from the 
 car, ran into a by-street, and with his pocket pencil 
 wrote on the blank sheet of paper " Hygiene." Yes, 
 he had it right. It looked right. Now for the 
 nearest letter-box. 
 
 But his faith in " Hygiene " had arisen to such 
 fervour that he dreaded the delay of postal delivery. 
 Why not carry the letter himself to the editorial 
 office, which was at no very great distance ? He 
 would, even though it made him late at Swettenham's 
 And he began to run. 
 
 Panting, but exultant, he delivered his answer in 
 
 the national competition, thus gaining a march upon 
 
 the unhappy multitudes who dwelt far away, and 
 
 whose resource and energy fell short of his. Then 
 x8
 
 274 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 he looked at the time, and was frightened ; he would 
 be dreadfully unpunctual at business ; Swettenham's 
 might meet him with stern rebuke. There was 
 nothing for it ; he hailed a cab. 
 
 Only in the middle of the morning did he remember 
 that he had in his pocket a love-letter to Polly 
 Sparkes, which he had meant to post early. He had 
 seen Polly a few days ago, and suspected that she 
 was in some sort of trouble and difficulty, possibly 
 — though she denied it — caused by her want of em- 
 ployment. Polly declared that she had resources 
 which enabled her to take a holiday. Not very long 
 ago such a statement would have racked Christopher 
 with jealous suspicions ; suspicious he was, and a 
 little uneasy, but not to the point of mental torture. 
 The letter in his pocket declared that he could never 
 cease to love Polly, and that he groaned over the 
 poverty which condemned him to idle hopes ; for 
 all that, he thought much less of her just now than 
 of the missing word. And when, in the luncheon 
 hour, he posted his amorous missive, it was with al- 
 most a careless hand. 
 
 On this same day it happened that Mr. Gammon, 
 speeding about his business in Messrs Quodlings's 
 neat little trap, found he could conveniently stop 
 for a mid-day meal somewhere near Battersea Park 
 Road. The boy who accompanied him took the 
 horse to bait, and Mr. Gammon presently directed 
 his steps to the little china-shop. 
 
 Mrs. Clover had just finished dinner; her female
 
 THE MISSING WORD 275 
 
 assistant had returned into the shop, and by 
 her Gammon sent a request for a moment's pri- 
 vate conversation. He soon entered the sitting- 
 room. 
 
 " It's strange you have looked in to-day," said 
 Mrs. Clover, with the dull air of one who has a 
 headache. " I wanted to see you." 
 
 " I'm very glad." 
 
 He sat down at a distance from her and observed 
 her face. This was a new habit of his ; he saw more, 
 much more, than he had been wont to see, in the 
 healthy, sweet-tempered, and still young counte- 
 nance ; it's present languor disturbed him. 
 
 " What was it, Mrs. Clover? " he asked in a voice 
 not quite like his own. 
 
 " Well, I wanted to speak about Polly. Her 
 father has been here asking questions." 
 
 Gammon set his lips almost angrily. 
 
 " V/hat's wrong?" 
 
 " I don't know as anything is. But — have you 
 heard anything about her going to be married ? " 
 
 " Has she told her father that ? " he asked, with 
 a shuffle of his feet. 
 
 " Not in plain words. But she's doing nothing — 
 except roam about the streets — and she won't give 
 any straightforward account of herself. Now, would 
 you mind telling me, Mr. Gammon, whether" — her 
 eyes fell — " I mean, if you've done anything, since 
 that night, you know, to make her offended with 
 you t
 
 276 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 " Offended ? Not that I know of," was his prompt 
 answer with genuine surprise. 
 
 Mrs. Clover watched him, and seemed not dis- 
 satisfied. 
 
 " I'll tell you why I ask. Sometime ago, she 
 wrote me a queer letter. It said she was going to 
 be married — or thought about it ; and there was 
 something I couldn't understand abont you. I shall 
 show you that letter. I think it's only right." 
 
 She withdrew for a moment, and returned with 
 Polly's abusive epistle, which she handed to her 
 visitor. Gammon first read it, then looked for a 
 date, but none was discernible. 
 
 " When did you get this ? " he asked. 
 
 Mrs. Clover could not mention the very day, and 
 on reflecting. Gammon felt sure that Polly must 
 have written this just before the exciting events 
 which threw him and her into each other's arms. 
 In the same moment he recalled Polly's eagerness to 
 become possessed of a letter she had posted to him 
 — the letter he was not to open. 
 
 " You may well say it's queer." He laughed and 
 laughed again, " She gives me a nice character, eh ? 
 And you've been wondering what I'd done? All 
 I've got to say is, that it's a blessed lie, from begin* 
 ning to end. But perhaps you won't believe me ? " 
 
 " I will believe you if you tell me plain and 
 straight that you hadn't done anything wrong — • 
 nothing to be ashamed of." 
 
 " Well then, I do tell you that. I never gave her
 
 THE MISSING WORD 277 
 
 the least cause to speak of me in that way. It's all 
 lies." 
 
 " I more than half thought it was." 
 
 Mrs. Clover heaved a sigh and looked more cheer- 
 ful. 
 
 - " And what," she added, " does she mean about 
 marrying a gentleman." 
 
 " That's more than I can tell you." 
 
 Again he laughed — laughed like a man enjoying 
 sudden relief of mind. 
 
 " More than I can tell you, Mrs. Clover. But I'll 
 see if I can't find out ; indeed I will. Her friends 
 the Nibby's may be able to tell me something. — 
 Have you asked her to come and see you ? " 
 
 " No. For one thing, I don't know the address, 
 and after a letter like this — " 
 
 " Quite right. Leave it to me." He bent his 
 head, hesitated, and added quietly, " I may have 
 something to tell you." 
 
 Thereupon they parted, and Mrs. Clover felt her 
 head so much better that she was able to attend to 
 business.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 A DOUBLE EVENT 
 
 With clang and twang the orchestra (a music hall 
 orchestra) summoned to hilarity an audience of the 
 first half hour ; stragglers at various prices, but all 
 alike in their manifest subdual by a cold atmosphere, 
 a dull illumination, empty seats and inferior singers 
 put on for the early " turns " a striking of matches 
 to kindle pipe or cigar ; a thudding of heavy boots ; 
 a clink of glass or pewter and a waiter's spiritless 
 refrain. — " Any orders, gents ? " Things would be 
 better presently. In the meantime, Mr. Gammon 
 was content to have found a place where he could 
 talk with Polly sheltered from the January night at 
 small expense. He sipped thoughtfully from a 
 tumbler of right Scotch ; he glanced cautiously at his 
 companion, who seemed very much under the in- 
 fluence of the hour. Polly, in fact, had hardly 
 spoken. Her winter costume could not compare in 
 freshness and splendour with that which had 
 soothed her soul through the bygone sunny season ; 
 to tell the truth she was all but shabby. But Gam- 
 mon had no eye for this. He was trying to read 
 278
 
 A DOUBLE EVENT 279 
 
 Polly's thoughts, and wondering how she could take 
 what he had made up his mind to tell her. 
 
 " I saw your aunt yesterday." 
 
 "You did?" 
 
 " Yes, I did. She was telling me about a letter 
 she had from you some time ago — the last letter 
 you wrote her." 
 
 Their eyes met ; Miss Sparkes was defiant, on her 
 guard, but not wholly courageous ; Gammon twinkled 
 a mocking smile, and held himself ready for what- 
 ever might come. 
 
 " She shows you people's letters does she ? " said 
 Polly, with a sneer. 
 
 " This one she did. Good reason. It was funny 
 reading, old girl. That's your opinion of me, is 
 it ? Do you mind telling me who the gentleman 
 is — the real gentleman — you think of taking up 
 with ? " 
 
 Gammon could not strike a really ungenerous 
 note. He had meant to be severe, but did not 
 get beyond sly banter. 
 
 " She's a cat for showing it to you ! " replied Miss 
 Sparkes. " That was wrote before we — you know 
 what. It was after you'd took your 'ook that 
 Sunday on the Embankment. I didn't mean it ; I 
 was a bit cross. I'll pay her out some day for this, 
 see if I don't." 
 
 Much more did Polly say, the gist of it all being 
 an evident desire to soothe her companion's feel- 
 ings. Gammon found himself in an unexpected and
 
 28o THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 awkward position. He had taken for granted an 
 outbreak of violence ; he had counted upon the 
 opportunity of mutual invective ; he wished to tell 
 Polly to go — further. In the face of such singular 
 mildness he was at a loss for weapons. Mere bru- 
 tality would soon have settled the matter, but of 
 that Mr. Gammon was incapable. At this juncture, 
 too, as if in support of Polly's claim to indulgence, 
 a strain irresistible by heart of man, preluded a song 
 of the affections ; Gammon began to understand 
 what a mistake it was to have brought Polly to a 
 music-hall for the purpose of breaking with her. 
 Under cover of the languishing lyric, Miss Sparkes 
 put her head nearer to him. 
 
 "What am I to do, eh?" 
 
 "To do?" 
 
 " I cawn't go on like this. Do you want me to 
 get another job somewhere ? I sh'd think you 
 might see I cawn't wear this jacket much longer." 
 
 The crisis was dreadful. Gammon clutched at 
 the only possible method of appeasing his conscience, 
 and, postponing decisive words, he took Polly's hand 
 — poorly gloved — and secretly pressed the palm 
 with a coin, which Polly in less than a clock-tick 
 ascertained to be one pound sterling. She smiled. 
 
 "What's that for?" 
 
 " For — for the present." 
 
 And in this way another evening went by, leaving 
 things as before. 
 
 " I'd never have believed I was such a fool," said
 
 A DOUBLE EVENT 281 
 
 Gammon to himself at a late hour. He meant, of 
 course that experience was teaching him, for the 
 first time, the force of a moral obligation which, as 
 theorist, he had always held mere matter for joke. 
 He by no means prided himself on this newly ac- 
 quired perception ; he saw it only as an obstacle to 
 business-like behaviour. But it was there, and — by 
 jorrocks ! the outlook began to alarm him. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mr. Greenacre was pursuing a laud- 
 able object. Greatly pleased at the dexterity with 
 which Miss Sparkes had been hoodwinked in the 
 matter of Lord Polperro and her uncle Clover, he 
 determined to set all at rest in that direction by 
 making Polly believe that Mr. Clover, her uncle 
 himself as distinct from Lord Polperro, was also 
 dead and gone and done for. Gammon knew of the 
 design and strongly favoured it ; for he was annoyed 
 by Mrs. Clover's false position ; he wished her to 
 be proclaimed a widow, without the necessity of 
 disagreeable revelations. 
 
 An exciting postcard brought about one more 
 interview between Miss Sparkes and the so-called 
 private detective. They met in a spot chosen for 
 its impressiveness, the City office of a great line of 
 Ocean steamers. When Polly had with some dif- 
 ficulty discovered the place and entered shyly, she 
 was met by Greenacre, who at once drew her aside 
 and began talking in a whisper, with much show of 
 worry and perturbation. In his hand rustled a 
 printed form, with a few words in pencil !
 
 282 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 " It's all over, Miss Sparkes. We have no more 
 hope. This last cable settles it. Don't let me 
 agitate you. But I thought it best that you should 
 come here, and see the cable for yourself. Sinking 
 his voice and with his lips at her ear, he added, 
 " Your uncle is dead." 
 
 Polly was not overcome. 
 
 " Is it reely him this time ? " 
 
 " Clover— not a doubt of it. I got on his track, 
 but too late ; he was off to South Africa. Here is a 
 cable from the Cape. He died at sea — some obscure 
 disease — probably an affection of the heart — and was 
 buried off the west coast. Read it for yourself. 
 ' Clover, second cabin passenger, died and buried 23. 
 4.S.-8. 2.W. Effects await instructions.' There he 
 lies, at the bottom of the sea, poor fellow. This is 
 only a confirmatory cable. I have spent lots of money 
 in learning particulars. Perhaps you would like to 
 see one of the officials about it, Miss Sparkes ? Un- 
 fortunately, they can only repeat what I have told 
 you." 
 
 Polly had no desire to hold converse with those 
 gentlemen ; she was thoroughly awed, and convinced 
 by Greenacre's tones and the atmosphere of the 
 office. 
 
 " I have already communicated with your aunt. 
 I dare say you would like to go and see her." 
 
 But neither for this had Polly any present in- 
 clination. She wanted to be alone, and to reflect. 
 Having made sure that she was not likely to visit
 
 A DOUBLE EVENT 283 
 
 Mrs. Clover forthwith, Greenacre took his leave, 
 blending a decent melancholy with the air of im- 
 portance and hurry proper to a man involved in so 
 much business. 
 
 This week she had not entered for the missing- 
 word competition, and as few things interested Polly 
 in which she had no personal concern, the morning 
 on which the result was published found her in her 
 ordinary frame of mind. She was thinking of 
 Gammon ; determined to hold him to his engage- 
 ment, but more out of obstinacy than in obedience 
 to the dictates of her heart, which had of late grown 
 decidedly less fervid. Gammon could keep her 
 respectably ; he would make a very presentable 
 husband ; she did not fear ill-treatment from him. 
 On the other hand, she felt only too certain that he 
 would be the stronger. When it came to a struggle 
 (the inevitable result of marriage in Polly's mind) 
 Gammon was not the man to give in. She re- 
 membered the battle at Mrs. Bubb's. All very well, 
 that kind of thing, in days of courtship, but after 
 marriage — no ! Some girls might be willing to find 
 their master ; Polly had always meant to rule, and 
 that undisputedly. 
 
 Breakfasting in her bedroom at ten o'clock, she 
 was surprised by the receipt of a telegram. It came 
 from Christopher Parish, and ran thus : 
 
 " Great news. Do meet me at entrance to Liver- 
 pool Street Station one o'clock. Wonderful news."
 
 284 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 What this news could be puzzled her for a mo- 
 ment ; then she remembered that Mr. Parish had 
 spoken of a possible " rise " at Swettenham's early in 
 the New Year. That must be it. He had got an 
 increase of salary ; perhaps five shillings a week 
 more, no doubt. 
 
 Would that make any difference ? Was it " good 
 enough " — so her thoughts phrased the anxious 
 question. 
 
 Regarding Christopher, one thing was certain ; he 
 would be her very humble slave. She imagined her- 
 self his wife; she pictured him inclining to revolt; 
 she saw the results of that feeble insubordination, 
 and laughed aloud ! Christopher was respectable ; 
 he would, undoubtedly, continue to rise at Swetten- 
 ham's ; he would take a pride in the magnificence 
 of her costume. When her temper called for natu- 
 ral relief, she could quarrel with him by the hour 
 without the least apprehension, and in the end 
 would graciously forgive him. Yes, there was much 
 to be said for Christopher. 
 
 A little before one o'clock she was at Liverpool 
 Street, sheltered from a drizzle that brought down 
 all the smoke of myriad chimneys. A slim figure 
 in overcoat and shining hat rushed through the 
 puddles towards her, waving an umbrella to the 
 peril of other people speeding only less frantically. 
 
 " Polly !— I've got it ! " 
 
 He could gasp no more ; he seized her arm as if 
 for support.
 
 A DOUBLE EVENT 285 
 
 •' How much is it ? " she asked calmly. 
 
 " Three hundred and fifty pounds ! — Hyjene I " 
 
 " What — three hundred and fifty a year ? " 
 
 Christopher stared at her. 
 
 " You don't understand. The missing word I've 
 got it this week ! Cheque for three hundred and 
 fifty pounds ! Hyjene ! " 
 
 " Reely ! " 
 
 " Look here — here's the cheque ! Hyjene ! " 
 
 Polly fingered the paper, studied the inscription. 
 All the time she was thinking that this sum of 
 money would furnish a house in a style vastly 
 superior to that of Mrs. Nibby. Mrs. Nibby would 
 go black in the face with envy, hatred and malice ' 
 As she reflected, Christopher talked, drawing her 
 to the least frequented part of the huge roaring 
 railway station. 
 
 " Will you, Polly ?— Why don't you speak ?— Do, 
 Polly, do!" 
 
 She all but spoke, would have done so but for an 
 ear-rending whistle from an engine. 
 
 " I shall have a rise too, Polly. I'm feeling my feet 
 at Swettenham's. Who knows what I may get to ? 
 Polly, I might — I might some day have a big business 
 of my own, and — and build a house at Eastbourne ! 
 It's all on the cards, Polly. Others have done it 
 before me. Swettenham began as a clerk — he did ! 
 Think, Polly, three hundred and fifty pounds. 
 ^Hyjene I''
 
 286 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 She met his eye ; she nodded. 
 
 " You will? " 
 
 " Don't mind if I do." 
 
 ** Hooray ! — Hyjene for ever !— Hooray-ay-ay ! **
 
 - • CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 THE TRAVELLER AT REST 
 
 Two or three days after this, Gammon heard un- 
 expectedly from Mrs. Clover, who enclosed for his 
 perusal a letter she had just received from Polly 
 Sparkes. What — she asked — could be the meaning 
 of Polly's reference to her deceased uncle ? Was 
 there never to be an end of mysteries and miseries 
 in relation to that unhappy man ? 
 
 Turning to Polly's scrawl (which contrasted so 
 strongly with Mrs. Clover's neat, clear hand) Gam- 
 mon discovered the passage which had disturbed 
 his correspondent. " You mustn't expect me to go 
 into black for your husband, for uncle I won't call 
 him. I heard about him coming to you for money, 
 and then taking his hook, because detectives was 
 after him. A nice sort of man. It's a pity he had 
 to be buried at the bottom of the sea, where you 
 can't put a monniment to him, as I'm sure you would 
 like to do. So this is all I have to say, and I shall 
 not trouble you again." 
 
 Here was no puzzle for Gammon, who had ap- 
 proved Greenacre's scheme for finally getting rid of 
 
 287
 
 288 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 Mr. Clover. But Polly's letter began with an an- 
 nouncement which occasioned him the greatest sur- 
 prise he had known since the identification of Clover 
 with Lord Polperro. So completely did it engross 
 and confuse his mind, that not until some quarter 
 of an hour elapsed could he think about the pas- 
 sage quoted above. " I write to inform you," began 
 Miss Sparkes — without any introductory phrase — 
 " that I am going to be married to a gentleman 
 who has a high place at Swettenhams', the big tea 
 merchants, and his name is Mr. Parish. He has won 
 the missing word which is three hundred and fifty 
 pounds, and which every penny of it he will spend 
 on furniture at one of the best places. You shall 
 have one of our cards when we send them out, though 
 I cannot say you have behaved accordingly. The 
 reason I do not invite you to the wedding is be- 
 cause Mr. Parish's friends are very particular," 
 
 After reading these remarkable lines again and 
 again, Mr. Gammon was much disposed to shout. 
 But something restrained him. He felt, perhaps, 
 that shouting would be inadequate, or even inap- 
 propriate. When his first emotions subsided he 
 went quietly forth from the house (it was evening) 
 and took a walk about the adjacent streets, stop- 
 ping at a stationer's to purchase notepaper. Re- 
 turned to his room, he gently whistled an old-fash- 
 ioned melody ; his face passed from grave thought- 
 fulness to a merry smile. Before going to bed 
 he meant to write a letter, but there was no hurry ;
 
 THE TRAVELLER AT REST 289 
 
 two hours had to pass before the midnight collec- 
 tion. 
 
 The letter was brief, lucid, sensible. He ex- 
 plained to Mrs. Clover that the painfulness and dif- 
 ficulty of her situation since Lord Polperro's death 
 had impelled him to a strange, but harmless and 
 justifiable expedient for putting her affairs in order. 
 He made known the nature of the artifice, which " for 
 several reasons " he had tried in the first instance 
 upon Polly Sparkes — with complete success. If 
 Mrs. Clover took his advice, she would straight- 
 way go into moderate mourning, and let it be known 
 that her husband was dead. Reserve as to details 
 would seem strange to no one ; ordinary acquaint- 
 ances might be told that Mr. Clover had died abroad, 
 friends and relatives that he had died at sea. He 
 hoped she would not be offended by what he had 
 done, as it relieved her from a wretched burden of 
 secrecy, and greatly improved the position of her 
 daughter. Miss Minnie. She need not reply to this 
 letter, unless she liked, and he would make an op- 
 portunity of calling upon her before very long. 
 
 A week passed without reply. By discreet in- 
 quiry Gammon learnt that Mrs. Clover had assumed 
 the garb of widowhood and this was quite enough. 
 
 " There," he said to himself, " there's an end of 
 lies!" And he shook his shoulders, as if to get 
 quite clear of the upleasant entanglement. For Mr. 
 Gammon, though ingenious at a pinch, had no natu- 
 ral bent towards falsehood. To be rid, at almost 
 »9
 
 290 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 the same moment, of Mr. Clover and Polly Sparkes 
 seemed to him marvellous good luck, and in these 
 bitter, sodden days of the early year he was lighter 
 hearted than for many months. 
 He had heard from Polly. 
 
 " Dear Mr. Gammon, 
 
 " I don't think we are suited to each other which 
 is better for both parties. I shall send you a wed- 
 ding card in a few days and I'm sure I wish you all 
 happiness. And so I remain with my best respects, 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 " Miss Sparkes." 
 
 This time, Mr. Gammon felt no restraint upon 
 his mirth. He threw his head back and roared 
 joyously. That same day he went to a jeweller's 
 and purchased — for more than he could afford — a 
 suitable trinket, and sent it with a well meaning 
 note to Polly's address. 
 
 Winter brightened into spring, spring bloomed 
 into summer. Gammon had paid several visits to 
 the china-shop, where all was going very well in- 
 deed. Minnie Clover now spent her evenings al- 
 most invariably with the young man interested in 
 ceramic art, but it never disturbed Gammon to 
 have ocular evidence of the fact. With Mrs. Clover 
 he conversed in the respectfully familiar tone of an 
 old friend, now and then reporting little matters 
 which concerned his own welfare, such as his grow-
 
 THE TRAVELLER AT REST 291 
 
 ing conviction that at Quodlings' he had found a 
 " permanency," and his decision to go no more to 
 Dulwich, to sell all his bow-wows, to find another 
 employment for leisure hours. 
 
 But he was not wholly at ease. Time after time he 
 had purposed making a confession to Mrs. Clover ; 
 time, after time he " funked it " — his own mental 
 phrase — and put it off. 
 
 He grew discontented with his room at Mrs. 
 Bubb's. In getting up these bright mornings, he 
 looked with entirely new distaste upon the prospect 
 from his window, at the back. Beneath lay parallel 
 strips of ground, divided from each other by low 
 walls ; these were called the " gardens " of the houses 
 in Kennington Road, but no blade of grass ever 
 showed upon the black, hard-trodden soil. Lank 
 fowls ran about among discarded furniture and in- 
 describable rubbish, or children — few as well-tended 
 as Mrs. Bubb's — played and squabbled under the 
 dropping soot. Beyond rose a huge block of ten- 
 ements, each story entered from an external platform, 
 the levels connected by flights of iron steps ; the 
 lofty roof, used as a drying-ground by the female 
 population, was surrounded with iron railings. Gam- 
 mon had hitherto seen nothing disagreeable in this 
 outlook, nor had the shrieks and curses which at 
 night too frequently sounded from the huge build- 
 ing ever troubled his repose. But he was growing 
 fastidious. He thought constantly of a clean little 
 street not far from Battcrsea Park — of a gleaming
 
 292 THE TOWN TRAVELLER 
 
 china-shop — of a little parlour which seemed to him 
 the perfection of comfort and elegance. 
 
 Courage and opportunity came together. He sat 
 alone with Mrs. Clover one Sunday evening, and 
 she told him that Minnie was to be married in six 
 months' time. Gammon bore the announcement very 
 well indeed ; he seemed really glad to hear it. Then 
 his countenance became troubled ; he dropped awk- 
 ward sentences; with a burst of honest feeling, 
 which made him very red, he at length plunged into 
 his confession. Not a little astonished, Mrs. Clover 
 learnt all that had passed between him and Polly 
 Sparkes, now Polly Parish. Nothing did he ex- 
 tenuate, but he wronged neither Polly nor himself. 
 
 " There, I've got it out. You had to know. 
 Thank goodness it's over! " 
 
 "Why did you tell me?" asked Mrs. Clover, a 
 flush on her comely face, which could not yet smile, 
 though she asked the question with a suggestion ol 
 slyness. 
 
 " It seemed only right — to make things square, 
 don't you see. I shall know, next time I come, how 
 you've taken it. And perhaps the next time after 
 that—" 
 
 Mrs. Clover was now smiling, and so gently, so 
 modestly, that Gammon forgot all about his scheme 
 for a gradual approach. He began to talk excitedly, 
 and talked for such a longtime that his hostess, who 
 wished him to disappear before Minnie's return, had 
 at length to drive him away.
 
 THE TRAVELLER AT REST 293 
 
 " I shall certainly keep on the shop," were her 
 last words before the door opened. " I've got used 
 to it, and — it'll keep me out of mischief." 
 
 Her merry little laugh echoed in Gammon's ears 
 all the way home, and for hours after. And when, 
 a* he rose next morning, he looked out on to the 
 strips of back yard and the towering tenements, they 
 had lost all their ugliness. 
 
 " By jorrocks ! " he ejaculated, after gashing his 
 chin with the razor. " I'll send Polly a handsome 
 present next Christmas." 
 
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