Anonymous - Eveline

"No, John, I am going out. I will see him myself."

I chanced to be in the hall. I was ready for my morning walk. John watched me with glistening eyes and moist lips as I drew on and fitted my beautiful new gloves. I gave my dress a shake and a twirl, I put my dainty little foot up on the hall chair. John pretended to dust it with his pocket handkerchief. Robin was making himself evident.

"Open the door, John, please-I am ready now."

I knew the man at once-the hansom driver with the hare-lip. He turned from his horse towards me as I emerged from the house.

"It's all right, thank you! You can close the door, John, and go in."

"Well, you want to see me. What do you want?"

"Look here, miss! You left this here in my cab t'other night when I druv yer 'ome from the restaurant."

"No-I am sure I left nothing. Besides, that is not my property."

I knew that if he had really found a purse in his cab, it was his duty to take it to Scotland Yard. I said nothing more. I waited.

"If it isn't yours then it must be somebody else's. It doesn't alter the case though. The other night it was you as I druv here from the Up-to- Date Supper Rooms. Everybody knows what goes on there. When I sees a young lady comin' down from them there cabinet party ticklers to the private way out at twelve o'clock at night, I knows it's not for nuffin."

"What do you mean? Don't speak so loud, my good man!"

"I mean wot I ses: when I sees a gent-a reglar toff, old enough to know better-handing a vartuous young lady into my hansom from them rooms-a young lady livin' here, and 'as parents as is proud of her, as knows nuffin of these goin's on-then I ses, ses I to myself- its' a shame, it's a blot as oughter be cleaned out, and the sooner them parents is made acquainted with 'em the better."

"What does all this mean?"

"Wot does it mean? It means a tenner if as how I'm to 'old my tongue. I can't have my time wasted. I've 'ad two days' 'unt about the family and the 'ouse. I knows now who you are, miss. If you take my honest advice-you'll square it. I've druv yer twice from there."

"What's a 'tenner'?"

The fellow had lowered his voice. He stopped, pretending to be arranging the India-rubber mat in his cab. I began to grasp the situation. My last question was only a ruse to gain time. Meanwhile I had made up my mind.

"Wot's a tenner? Why a ten pun' note to be sure, and it's nuffin when you consider it. S'pose I rings the bell, and axes your flunkey to see his missus, Lady L, werry partic'lar? I oughter do it-it's only my dooty."

"But, my good man, it's a large sum of money. I haven't got so much here. I should have to go to the banker's for it and cash a check."

"That's only reasonable. You can go now, and I can drive you. I don't want to make no trouble if I can 'elp it, and you're such a nice quiet sorter young lady. Only I tells yer-you'll 'ave to pay the fare there and back-nobody does nuffin for nuffin."

"You promise me if I give you this money that you will keep the secret?"

"In course I will! It's only between us two-at present. Jump in, missy! Where to?"

"Drive me to Temple Bar. Go by Leicester Square and Long Acre. I want to stop at the Floral Hall by Covent Garden theatre as we go along."

"Right yer are, miss!"

As I sat back in the cab, I thought quietly over this business. Certainly it would never do to drive the man to extremities and let him communicate with Lady L. Neither could I think of worrying Papa, or of dragging him into the affair. It would set all my mother's worst suspicions at work. She would never stop till she had wormed out something damaging to us both. It would cause endless trouble. It was not to be thought of. Eveline was in a somewhat tight place now, if ever she was.

The cab went gaily along through the square, up Long Acre until it arrived at the corner of Bow Street. There the traffic was more congested. The hansom went at a walking pace. Exactly as I arrived opposite the Police Station, I saw a constable by the curb, I beckoned him.

"Come here, please-stop this cab immediately. I must see Sir Langham Beamer-don't lose sight of the driver!"

The policeman went to the horse's head. He called another man from the doorway. He spoke to the man with the hare-lip. The cab drew up to the curb exactly before the stone doorway over which was written "Police." The policeman politely opened the doors of the hansom. He handed me out.

"We have his number, the man can't go away."

"You will find the Inspector in the office, miss. The Court is up."

I went in. I handed my card to the Inspector. I asked to see Sir Langham Beamer.

"Is it private business? Sir Langham's in his room-but I'll take the card in with pleasure, miss."

He had a good look at me. Evidently he admired me. He was a very fine man, tall and powerfully built-exactly the sort of man to suit Eveline-to be also the terror of the evildoer. I flashed a glance at him before he disappeared.

"Sir Langham will see you at once, miss. Will you please to walk this way?"

It was quite easy to stumble on the thick doormat-so very natural that Inspector Walker should catch me by the hand. It was also even necessary for us to hold on, so that he could squeeze my soft kid glove in his strong palm, because I might have fallen.

"So you have found your way already? So very glad you did not forget the old man of the lock up. Ha, ha!"

"Oh, Sir Langham! How could I so soon forget you and your kind invitation. But I must not make that my excuse even for venturing to trouble you now."

The dear old gentleman was seated at a large table. Before him was a luncheon tray with a cover for one. He had risen with the air of an old beau as I entered. He pressed me into a chair and reseated himself.

"Well, what can I do for you, my dear young lady? By the way, how charming you look today! You will not object to the presence of my lunch. If you permit me, I will commence my chop. Nothing in all the universe so good after all as a real London mutton chop-mind-a loin chop-none of your chump chops-but a loin chop like this-ha, ha!"

The cheery old gentleman raised the tempting morsel on his fork for my inspection. I duly admired it. In fact I had no appetite just then for chops.

"I wish I had another to offer you. How's Sir Edward? Grand man, Sir Edward! Why did you not bring him too? Not but that I am naturally charmed to have a tete-a-tete with-permit an old boy like me the privilege-with so beautiful a young lady as you, Miss L-."

"It's about a cabman. The man is here."

"Ah! Disputed fare, no doubt. These fellows like to get hold of an inexperienced young creature like you, my dear child."

"No, no, it's more serious than that, Sir Langham. The man thinks he has a secret, and demands a large sum of money to keep it."

The police magistrate put down his knife and fork. All his professional instincts immediately awoke.

"Ah! Why that must be strange! You can have no secrets worth the fellows' keeping-it sounds like blackmail. Are you sure there is no mistake? You say the man is here?"

"Yes, I came here in his cab. The policemen have taken his number."

Sir Langham touched his little silver gong. Inspector Walker appeared. Sir Langham gave an order in an undertone. Then the Inspector vanished, but not before our glances had crossed.

"Now tell me all about it."

"A few nights ago I went to the Opera with Papa. I had not been feeling well all day and had foolishly gone without any dinner. At the Opera I felt the heat, and the noise of the music seemed to stun me. Papa guessed the cause. He proposed we should leave. As it was late and the servants had orders not to await our return on such occasions, Sir Edward suggested going for some supper to a restaurant. We went to one they call the "Up-to-Date." There we supped. Afterwards papa called a cab-this man's cab-which was at the door, and we drove home direct. I went in with my latchkey. Papa went away along the street for some fresh air before 'turning in,' as he calls it."