London's Heart: A Novel. Farjeon Benjamin Leopold
course I shall tell her," interrupted the young man. "I tell Lily everything."
"You may mention, then, that the gentleman who had the pleasure of walking home with her to-night did you a little service. She spoke of her brother to-night as we walked home. Your name must be Alfred."
"Yes; that is my name."
"Mine is Sheldrake. I shall be glad to improve our acquaintanceship-that is, if you are willing."
"O, I'm willing enough," replied Alfred half graciously; "but I'm not a swell, you know."
"Meaning that I am. None the worse for that, eh?"
"No," said Alfred, throwing sufficient expression in his hesitating manner of uttering that small word to express, "No, you're none the worse for it; but I consider myself as good as you, or any man."
"And it isn't a bad thing to be a swell nowadays, let me tell you," remarked Mr. Sheldrake genially, clapping Alfred on the shoulder. "One gets behind the scenes, and sees all sorts of things, and learns all sorts of things. And after all it's only a question of money. Once a gentleman, always a gentleman."
"That's true," assented Alfred complacently, being now on very good terms with himself.
"Only a question of money," repeated Mr. Sheldrake, slowly and thoughtfully; "and there's plenty of ways of making that."
"That's true again," exclaimed Alfred eagerly, accepting a cigar from Mr. Sheldrake's cigar-case. "Plenty of ways. I know a way. I'm going to make a heap."
"With a little luck and a little pluck, a man with brains-which you've got, I'll be bound-can be as good as the best of them. He can go up like a rocket."
Mr. Sheldrake did not carry the simile farther. The rocket being in the clouds, it suited his purpose to leave it there. "Plenty of ways of making money! I should think there were, indeed; and these are just the times."
The speaker was evidently of the opinion that some of his words were pearls of price, which should not be lost sight of. His utterances just now seemed to be thickly studded with these pearls, for he repeated thoughtfully, "Just the times."
"So they are-so they are. You know a thing or two, I see."
"Know a thing or two!" exclaimed Mr. Sheldrake, with modest boastfulness. "Well, yes, I fancy I do."
"I can put you up to something good," said Alfred, with a furtive glance at his companion, "if you like, and if you'll keep it quiet."
"Ay," returned Mr. Sheldrake, with an appearance of gratitude; "I'll keep it quiet enough."
"Do you do anything in racing?"
"A little now and then. Between you and me, I made a good thing on the Derby."
"I thought so!" cried the young fellow in an exultant tone. "I thought you knew all about racing! I say, do you keep a book? Do you belong to any of the Clubs? Let's take a turn up the street."
"But isn't it time for you to be in?" suggested Mr. Sheldrake, as if unwilling to carry the conversation farther.
"No, no; it doesn't matter for a few minutes. Lily's sure to wait up for me. Besides, I have a latch-key. I wish we could go and sit down somewhere, and have a chat and a drink. But all the places are shut, worse luck."
"Didn't I tell you that I was behind the scenes?" said Mr. Sheldrake airily. "One never need be at a loss in London if he knows the ropes. Now I'll be sworn there's a house ready to receive us within a hundred yards of where we stand, although it is past one o'clock on Sunday morning. I know others, but they are too far away." Alfred followed every word with admiring interest. This man of the world, this swell who was behind the scenes, and who seemed to know everything worth knowing, was a superior being in his eyes. "Let us walk towards the policeman. Don't be surprised; it will, be a pleasant meeting enough, although your late experience might lead you to an opposite opinion."
"But why towards a policeman?" asked Alfred.
"He'll tell us of a house of entertainment, where we can have that chat and a drink you proposed. If a thief wants to hide, let him hide in a crowded city. If you want to do an illegal act, do it in the eye of the law. As I'm going to do this, with of course a proper application of the magic key."
Alfred thought his companion one of the most genial and brightest of men, and inquired what Mr. Sheldrake meant by the magic key.
"Tip," replied that gentleman; "the greatest institution of the age. Tip, the palm-tickler. If it hadn't been for that, how do you think I could have got you out of your scrape to-night? I've travelled about here and there, and I don't think there's a city in the world where the institution of Tip is so thoroughly understood and appreciated as in this very city of London. It will carry you anywhere, effect any object, get you out of any scrape, if you know how to apply to it. But it requires to be administered delicately, its nerves being very fine."
In front of them they heard the policeman's measured step. From the rear came the sounds of a man racing towards them. His hurried tread sounded in the quiet night like the rattle of steam feet rushing along. As they turned, the man passed them. He was panting for breath, and his clothes seemed to have been hurriedly thrown on. His braces were hanging loose, and he was struggling with his coat as he ran, suggesting the idea that he was racing and dressing himself for a wager. He did not notice the faces of the men as he passed them, but Alfred recognised him, and cried, "Why, that's Mr. Gribble!" The next moment Gribble junior was round the corner and out of sight, and the calm footstep of the watchman of the night heralded Mr. Sheldrake's friendly policeman. He touched his hat to Mr. Sheldrake, and while that gentleman held brief conference with him, his slinking hand asserted itself up his coat-sleeve, where it may be said to have lurked, thirsting for Tip. The comedy, which had been so successfully performed once before during the night, having been repeated successfully, the policeman (awaking from another little sleep) leisurely led the way, Alfred being in the rear. As they walked thus in single file, Mr. Sheldrake's thoughts, put into intelligible language, would have read thus: "That was a shrewd conclusion you came to, David, when you heard this young cub's voice, and guessed that it belonged to Lily's brother! A nice young fool he is! But he'll serve your turn, David, with that little nugget-he'll serve your turn. Make the pretty Lily grateful for having befriended her brother, and get the young fool himself quietly in your hands, and the rosy-cheeked apple falls plump into your open mouth, David-plump into your open mouth!" The contemplation of the rosy-cheeked apple falling plump into his mouth was so agreeable, that David Sheldrake smiled frequently, and in a gay and airy manner blew a kiss in the direction of Lily's house.
They paused at the side door of a house of entertainment, closed according to the law, and the mystic summons of the policeman gained them admittance.
"Let us have a quiet room, and some brandy-and-water," said Mr. Sheldrake to the waiter who had opened the door, and who, with his shirt-sleeves tucked up and his thick bull-neck, looked like a prize-fighter. "Policeman, you'll come in and have a drink?"
"No objections, sir."
The liquor having been brought, the policeman treated his conscience to "something hot," and departed to pursue his duties, ready at any moment with his slinking hand to prove himself a worthy watchman of the night and a proper guardian of the public peace.
CHAPTER V
MR. DAVID SHELDRAKE DOES A GOOD NIGHT'S WORK
Mr. Sheldrake helped himself to brandy-and-water, lit a fresh cigar, threw his cigar-case to Alfred with the air of an old acquaintance, and seemed as if he would have been perfectly satisfied to smoke and drink without conversation. But Alfred was not so disposed.
"So you did a good thing on the Derby," he commenced familiarly; "backed the Zephyr Colt, eh? I wish I had!"
"Backed it at the right time, my boy; backed it in April, and got thirties to one three times in hundreds."
"Nine thousand to three hundred," Alfred put in rapidly and enviously.
"That's a good calculation of yours, and quickly done," observed Mr. Sheldrake, with a nod of approval.
"O yes, I'm good at mental arithmetic," was the conceited answer.
"That's