Reginald Cruden by Talbot Baines Reed (free e novels .txt) 📕

it, was it?’ said he laughing. ‘Ho, ho! that’s the best joke I ever heard. Poor little Crisp, what a shame to get her to father—or mother a thing like this; ha, ha! “prior to the death of the latter”—that’s something like a play of language! My eye, what a game she’s been having with us!’

“‘Us! then you’re the idiot who wrote about the Swallows!’ said I.

“‘Suppose I am,’ said he, blushing all over, ‘suppose I am.’

“‘Well, all I can say is, I’m precious glad the little Crisp isn’t guilty of it. “Two of ye do not a summer make,” indeed!’

“‘Well, they don’t,’ said he.

“‘I know they don’t,’ said I, half dead with laughing, ‘but you needn’t go and tell everybody.’

“‘I’m sure it’s just as interesting as “Cain and Abel”—’

“‘There now, we don’t want to hear any more about them,’ said I, ‘but I think we ought to send them both back to Miss Crisp, to give her her laugh against us too.’

“We did so; and I needn’t tell you she lets us have it whenever we get within twenty yards of her.

“Here’s a long digression, but it may amuse you; and you said you wanted something to read.

“Well, Waterford and I recovered in a few days from our first reverse, and decided to have another shot; and so we were rather glad of the quiet evening at the office to make our new attempts. We half thought of writing a piece between us, but decided we’d better go on our own hooks after all, as our styles were not yet broken in to one another. We agreed we had better this time both write on subjects we knew something about; Waterford accordingly selected ‘A Day in a Sub-Sub-Editor’s Life’ as a topic he really could claim to be familiar with; while I pitched upon ‘Early Rising,’ a branch of science in which I flatter myself, old man, you are not competent to tell me whether I excel or not. Half the battle was done when we had fixed on our subjects; so as soon as every one was gone we poked up the fire and made ourselves snug, and settled down to work.

“We plodded on steadily till we heard the half-past nine letters dropped into the box. Then it occurred to us we had better turn down the lights and give our office as deserted a look as we could. It was rather slow work sitting in the dark for a couple of hours, not speaking a word or daring to move a toe. The fire got low, but we dared not make it up; and of course we both had awful desires to sneeze and cough—you always do at such times—and half killed ourselves in our efforts to smother them. We could hear the cabs and omnibuses in Fleet Street keeping up a regular roar; but no footsteps came near us, except once when a telegraph boy (as we guessed by his shrill whistling and his smart step) came and dropped a telegram into the box. I assure you the click the flap of the letter-box made that moment, although I knew what it was and why it was, made my heart beat like a steam-engine.

“It was beginning to get rather slow when twelve came and still nothing to disturb us. We might have been forging ahead with our writing all this time if we had only known.

“Presently Waterford whispered,—

“‘They won’t try to-night now.’

“Just as he spoke we heard a creak on the stairs outside. We had heard lots of creaks already, but somehow this one startled us both. I instinctively picked up the ruler from the table, and Waterford took my arm and motioned me close to the wall beside him. Another creak came presently and then another. Evidently some one was coming down the stairs cautiously, and in the dark too, for we saw no glimmer of a light through the partly-opened door. We were behind it, so that if it opened we should be quite hidden unless the fellow groped round it.

“Down he came slowly, and there was no mistake now about its being a human being and not a ghost, for we heard him clearing his throat very quietly and snuffling as he reached the bottom step. I can tell you it was rather exciting, even for a fellow of my dull nerves.

“Waterford nudged me to creep a little nearer the gas, ready to turn it up at a moment’s notice, while he kept at the door, to prevent our man getting out after he was once in.

“Presently the door opened very quietly. He did not fling it wide open, luckily, or he was bound to spot us behind it; but he opened it just enough to squeeze in, and then, feeling his way round by the wall, made straight for the letter-box. Although it was dark he seemed to know his way pretty well, and in a few seconds we heard him stop and fumble with a key in the lock. In a second or two he had opened it, and then, crouching down, began cautiously to rub a match on the floor. The light was too dim to see anything but the crouching figure of a man bending over the box and examining the addresses of one or two of the letters in it. His match went out before he had found what he wanted.

“It was hard work to keep from giving him a little unexpected light, for my fingers itched to turn up the gas. However, it was evidently better to wait a little longer and see what he really was up to before we were down on him.

“He lit another match, and this time seemed to find what he wanted, for we saw him put one letter in his pocket and drop all the others back into the box, blowing out his match as he did so.

“Now was our time. I felt a nudge from Waterford and turned the gas full on, while he quietly closed the door and turned the key.

“I felt quite sorry for the poor scared beggar as he knelt there and turned his white face to the light, unable to move or speak or do anything. You’ll have guessed who it was.

“‘So, Mr Durfy,’ said Waterford, leaning up against the door and folding his arms, ‘it’s you, is it?’

“The culprit glared at him and then at me, and rose to his feet with a forced laugh.

“‘It looks like it,’ he said.

“‘So it does,’ said Waterford, taking the key out of the door and putting it in his pocket; ‘very like it. And it looks very much as if he would have to make himself comfortable here till Mr Granville comes!’

“‘What do you mean?’ exclaimed the fellow. ‘I’ve as much right to be here as you have, for the matter of that, at this hour.’

“‘Very well, then,’ said Waterford, as cool as a cucumber, ‘we’ll all three stay here. Eh, Cruden?’

“‘I’m game,’ said I.

“He evidently didn’t like the turn things were taking, and changed his tack.

“‘Come, don’t play the fool!’ he said coaxingly, ‘The fact is, I expected a letter from a friend, and as it was very important I came to get it. It’s all right.’

“‘You may think so,’ said Waterford; ‘you may think it’s all right to come here on tiptoe at midnight with a false key, and steal, but other people may differ from you, that’s all! Besides, you’re telling a lie; the letter you’ve got in your pocket doesn’t belong to you!’

“It was rather a rash challenge, but we could see by the way his face fell it was a good shot.

“He uttered an oath, and advanced threateningly towards the door.

“‘Sit down,’ said Waterford, ‘unless you want to be tied up. There are two of us here, and we’re not going to stand any nonsense, I can tell you!’

“‘You’ve no right—’

“‘Sit down, and shut up!’ repeated Waterford.

“‘I tell you if you—’

“‘Cruden, you’ll find some cord in one of those drawers. If you don’t shut up, and sit down, Durfy, we shall make you.’

“He caved in after that, and I was rather glad we hadn’t to go to extremes.

“‘Hadn’t we better get the letter?’ whispered I.

“‘No; he’d better fork it out to Granville,’ said Waterford.

“He was wrong for once, as you shall hear.

“Durfy slunk off and sat down on a chair in the far corner of the room, swearing to himself, but not venturing to raise his voice above a growl.

“It was now about half-past twelve, and we had the lively prospect of waiting at least eight hours before Granville turned up.

“‘Don’t you bother to stay,’ said Waterford. ‘I can look after him.’

“But I scouted the idea, and said nothing would induce me to go.

“‘Very well, then,’ said he; ‘we may as well get on with our writing.’

“So we pulled our chairs up to the table, with a full-view of Durfy in the corner, and tried to continue our lucubrations.

“But when you are sitting up at dead of night, with a prisoner in the corner of the room cursing and gnashing his teeth at you, it is not easy to grow eloquent either on the subject of ‘A Day in a Sub-sub-Editor’s Life,’ or ‘Early Rising.’ And so we found. We gave it up presently, and made up the fire and chatted together in a whisper.

“Once or twice Durfy broke the silence.

“‘I’m hungry,’ growled he, about two o’clock.

“‘So are we,’ said Waterford.

“‘Well, go and get something. I’m not going to be starved, I tell you. I’ll make you smart for it, both of you.’

“‘You’ve been told to shut up,’ said Waterford, rising to his feet with a glance towards the drawer where the cord was kept.

“Durfy was quiet after that for an hour or so. Then I suppose he must have overheard me saying something to Waterford about you, for he broke out with a vicious laugh,—

“‘Reginald! Yes, he’ll thank you for this. I’ll make it so hot for him—’

“‘Look here,’ said Waterford, ‘this is the last time you’re going to be cautioned, Durfy. If you open your mouth once more you’ll be gagged; mind that. I mean what I say.’

“This was quite enough for Durfy. He made no further attempt to speak, but curled himself up on the floor and turned his face to the wall, and disposed himself to all appearances to sleep. Whether he succeeded or not I can’t say. But towards morning he glowered round at us. Then he took out some tobacco and commenced chewing it, and finally turned his back on us again and continued dozing and chewing alternately till the eight o’clock bell rang and aroused us.

“Half an hour later Granville arrived, and a glance at our group was quite sufficient to acquaint him with the state of affairs.

“‘So this is the man,’ said he, pointing to Durfy.

“‘Yes, sir. We caught him in the act of taking a letter out of the box at midnight. In fact, he’s got it in his pocket this moment.’

“Durfy gave a fiendish grin, and said,—

“‘That’s a lie. I’ve no letter in my pocket!’

“And he proceeded to turn his pockets one after the other inside out.

“‘All I know is we both saw him take a letter out of the box and put it in his pocket,’ said Waterford.

“‘Yes,’ snarled Durfy, ‘and I told you it was a private letter of my own.’

“‘Whatever the letter is, you took it out of the box, and you had better show it quietly,’ said Granville; ‘it will save you trouble.’

“‘I tell you I have no letter,’ replied Durfy again.

“‘Very well, then, Cruden, perhaps you will kindly fetch a policeman.’

“I started to go, but Durfy broke out, this time in tones of sincere terror,—

“‘Don’t do that, don’t ruin me! I did take it, but—’

“‘Give it to me then.’

“‘I can’t. I’ve eaten it!’

“Wasn’t this a thunderbolt! How were we to prove whose the letter was? Wild thoughts of a stomach-pump, or soap and warm water, did flash through