Kit and Kitty: A Story of West MiddlesexBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
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Kit and Kitty: A Story of West Middlesex
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Middlesex (England) -- Fiction
“‘Right!’ said the man, who was on his legs now, but sidled away into a
darker place; ‘let the other gent go. I was to tell you by yourself. I
daren’t come to your place, but you must come to mine.’
“‘Out with it! I never keep any secrets,’ Bulwrag replied, just to
humbug me. ‘Unless it concerns other people, and then—Well perhaps,
Bowles, you wouldn’t mind going to your den. Stop, let me speak to you
a moment outside.’
“He took me away, while the man stopped there; and I saw that his
object was to prevent me from finding out any more about that fellow. I
was forced to let him have his way that far, and to play a waiting game
with him.
“‘Some bosh or other,’ he whispered roughly; ‘I think I know who
the fellow is, and all about it. A gamekeeper’s daughter down in
Hampshire—always wanting money. Stop, you may as well take most of
this, for fear of my being too soft-hearted. There, leave me five;
that’s as much as I can spare. Good-night! Very much obliged. See you
to-morrow.’
“‘You had better mind what you are about,’ I said; ‘he owes you a
grudge, and you are in a slummy part, you know. I’ll come with you, if
you like, and wait outside.’
“‘You had better not wait at all. I am apt to mistake people, as you
have seen already?’
“This was a threat; and as such I took it, walking off with a dignity
which must have vexed him. However, as soon as I was round the corner,
I slipped a pair of rubber socks, that I always carry with me, over my
boots, and put myself on duty in other ways; so that if he met me in
the shadow, or even ten yards from a lamp, he would have little chance
of knowing me. And in less than two minutes I was back again; not in
the archway, of course, but at a place from which I could make out
part of what was going on there. For I knew that there was something
up quite out of the common way with him. Now how did I know that? Can
either of you tell me?”
“Why, of course, by his knocking that fellow down,” my uncle replied
sagaciously; “that was a bit of by-play, I suppose.”
“Not it. That was all done, bone fiddles—as we say. I knew it by the
pile of cash he gave me to hold for him. Oh, he is a deep file, and all
there at any moment. He had clearly formed a low opinion of your humble
servant, and thought that I should bolt with all the rhino, and be seen
no more. And it could be no trifle that made him risk the sum of five
and forty pounds.”
“Forty-five pounds!” I exclaimed; “how strange! Why that was the very
sum”—But here I stopped, for I did not wish to go into that question
with him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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