When the concourse separated, and, dividing into chance clusters, drew off in various directions, there still remained upon the sceneof the late disturbance, one man. This man was Gashford, who,bruised by his late fall, and hurt in a much greater degree by theindignity he had undergone, and the exposure of which he had beenthe victim, limped up and down, breathing curses and threats ofvengeance.
It was not the secretary"s nature to waste his wrath in words.
While he vented the froth of his malevolence in those effusions, hekept a steady eye on two men, who, having disappeared with the restwhen the alarm was spread, had since returned, and were now visiblein the moonlight, at no great distance, as they walked to and fro,and talked together.
He made no move towards them, but waited patiently on the dark sideof the street, until they were tired of strolling backwards andforwards and walked away in company. Then he followed, but at somedistance: keeping them in view, without appearing to have thatobject, or being seen by them.
They went up Parliament Street, past Saint Martin"s church, andaway by Saint Giles"s to Tottenham Court Road, at the back ofwhich, upon the western side, was then a place called the Green Lanes. This was a retired spot, not of the choicest kind, leadinginto the fields. Great heaps of ashes; stagnant pools, overgrownwith rank grass and duckweed; broken turnstiles; and the uprightposts of palings long since carried off for firewood, which menacedall heedless walkers with their jagged and rusty nails; were theleading features of the landscape: while here and there a donkey,or a ragged horse, tethered to a stake, and cropping off a wretchedmeal from the coarse stunted turf, were quite in keeping with thescene, and would have suggested (if the houses had not done so,sufficiently, of themselves) how very poor the people were wholived in the crazy huts adjacent, and how foolhardy it might provefor one who carried money, or wore decent clothes, to walk that wayalone, unless by daylight.
Poverty has its whims and shows of taste, as wealth has. Some ofthese cabins were turreted, some had false windows painted on theirrotten walls; one had a mimic clock, upon a crazy tower of fourfeet high, which screened the chimney; each in its little patch ofground had a rude seat or arbour. The population dealt in bones,in rags, in broken glass, in old wheels, in birds, and dogs.
These, in their several ways of stowage, filled the gardens; andshedding a perfume, not of the most delicious nature, in the air,filled it besides with yelps, and screams, and howling.
Into this retreat, the secretary followed the two men whom he hadheld in sight; and here he saw them safely lodged, in one of themeanest houses, which was but a room, and that of small dimensions.
He waited without, until the sound of their voices, joined in adiscordant song, assured him they were making merry; and thenapproaching the door, by means of a tottering plank which crossedthe ditch in front, knocked at it with his hand.
"Muster Gashfordl" said the man who opened it, taking his pipe fromhis mouth, in evident surprise. "Why, who"d have thought of thishere honour! Walk in, Muster Gashford--walk in, sir."
Gashford required no second invitation, and entered with a graciousair. There was a fire in the rusty grate (for though the springwas pretty far advanced, the nights were cold), and on a stoolbeside it Hugh sat smoking. Dennis placed a chair, his only one,for the secretary, in front of the hearth; and took his seat againupon the stool he had left when he rose to give the visitoradmission.
"What"s in the wind now, Muster Gashford?" he said, as he resumedhis pipe, and looked at him askew. "Any orders from head-quarters?
Are we going to begin? What is it, Muster Gashford?"
"Oh, nothing, nothing," rejoined the secretary, with a friendly nodto Hugh. "We have broken the ice, though. We had a little spurtto-day--eh, Dennis?"
"A very little one," growled the hangman. "Not half enough for me."
"Nor me neither!" cried Hugh. "Give us something to do with lifein it--with life in it, master. Ha, ha!"
"Why, you wouldn"t," said the secretary, with his worst expressionof face, and in his mildest tones, "have anything to do, with--withdeath in it?"
"I don"t know that," replied Hugh. "I"m open to orders. I don"tcare; not I."
"Nor I!" vociferated Dennis.
"Brave fellows!" said the secretary, in as pastor-like a voice asif he were commending them for some uncommon act of valour andgenerosity. "By the bye"--and here he stopped and warmed his hands: then suddenly looked up--"who threw that stone to-day?"
Mr Dennis coughed and shook his head, as who should say, "A mysteryindeed!" Hugh sat and smoked in silence.