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The Queen's Scarlet, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 24. The Strange Complication |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. THE STRANGE COMPLICATION "I shall be in trouble again," thought Dick; "but I can't help it! I feel as if that old bit of excitement was coming over me." The next minute he was out in the street, and making his way toward the High Barracks, trying to calm down his excitement and come to some decision as to how he would find out. It seemed simple enough, for what would Mark be? A lieutenant; and any corporal or sergeant would tell him whether there was a Lieutenant Frayne in the regiment. But long before Dick reached the barracks he had another shock; for, all at once, in turning a corner, he saw a well-built private sauntering along on the other side whose face was unmistakable, though how he had become a soldier was more than Dick could grasp. The man did not see him, and Dick passed on for a few yards, feeling his forehead, then his pulse, to find the latter a little accelerated, the former perfectly cool. "I'm not going mad!" he muttered, excitedly. "I may be dreaming, but--" He said no more, but turned sharply and followed the private, who was evidently taking his first walk through the town, and had become a little interested in the place. Dick did not hesitate, but followed the private till he was close behind him, and then uttered one word sharply, which brought him round on the instant, to stare hard at the speaker, but without any change of countenance. "Yes; what is it? I've got my pass." Dick could not speak again for the peculiar feeling of emotion which troubled him, and the man began to frown. "Was it me you meant when you called 'Jerry'?" he said. "Yes; you are Jerry Brigley." "I'm Jeremiah Brigley," was the snappish reply, "and I tell you I've got my pass. There you are." But Dick did not even glance at it, for this was a new shock. Some day he meant to go back and claim his position--some day--but here was a man with whom he had been on most intimate terms staring at him blankly without a sign of recognition! "Mornin'!" said Jerry, shortly; and he faced round and walked on. But Dick was after him directly, recovering somewhat from the shock he had sustained, and ready to treat the position with something like forced mirth in his delight at meeting one old link with the past. "Jerry!" he cried, and the man faced round sharply. "Well, what do you want with him?" "Don't you know me, Jerry?" cried Dick. "No, and don't want to; and, if this is a try-on to get me to stand beer, it's a dead failure!" "Not quite!" said Dick, smiling, though his heart ached. "Look here, do you want a tanner?" cried Jerry, snappishly. "Well, I am short of money," said Dick, as a sudden thought came to mind; "but not a tanner. Pay me the sovereign you borrowed of me!" "What?" "I did not mean ever to ask you for it, but it would be useful now." "Well, I'm blest!" cried Jerry. "Talk about cheek! When did I borrow a sovereign of you, my whippersnapper?" "Two years ago, when you wanted to bet on some horse for the Derby." Jerry's jaw dropped. "Who--who--who--who--says?" he stuttered. "How did--? When did--? Here--who are you?--How did--? I say: who are you?" "Dick Smithson, 205th Band," replied the young man, unable to keep from enjoying the state of puzzledom in which his ex-servant was plunged. "But I don't know no Dick Smithson; and how you--you--you! Oh, lor'!" Jerry had suddenly turned ghastly, reeled, and caught at the lamp-post close at hand. "Hush! Quiet!" cried Dick, in an excited whisper. "Don't make a scene!" "S'Richard!" gasped Jerry. "Silence, man! Here, come down the next street," whispered Dick, thrusting his arm beneath the other's to lead him into a less crowded thoroughfare; but Jerry started from him violently. "Don't--don't touch me!" he gasped. "Quiet, man!" said Dick, gripping him tightly. "That doesn't feel like a ghost?" "Oh, lor'!" groaned Jerry, with the great drops of cold perspiration crowding upon his brow. "But--but I see you drownd yourself before my very eyes!" "No, you did not, or I shouldn't be standing here now!" "But--but--oh, lor'!" groaned Jerry, with his voice growing faint and piteous, "is--is it really you S'Rich--?" "Silence! I'm Dick Smithson, now!" cried the young man fiercely. "But you was S'Richard," groaned Jerry, "before you come to life again!" "What nonsense are you talking now?" "Only the truth, sir. Why--why--oh, dear! can we get a drop o' brandy?" "Come in here," said Dick, seeing how bad the man looked, and he led him into a tavern which, oddly enough, it being a garrison town, stood near. The next minute they were seated alone in the parlour, and Jerry guardedly stretched out his hand to touch Dick's knee. "Well!" said the young man, "does it feel real?" "Yes; but I see you drownd yourself before my very eyes, S'Rich--" "Silence, man!" "But I did," said Jerry, plaintively; "and we sat upon you at the inquest." "What!" "Didn't I see you, my poor, dear lad, all stripped and torn by beating about in the river-bed with stones and old trees; and didn't I go and drop a tear or two on your coffin?" "Jerry!" "I did the day as you was buried, though things was that bad I had to sell my watch to pay my fare." "Here, quick! Tell me," cried Dick, whose turn it was to be staggered now, "you--you--they--they did all this?" "To be sure they did; and you're as dead as a door-nail, sir. I see it all myself. Oh, my lad! how could you--how could you go and drownd yourself like that?" "I--go to drown myself! Nonsense!" cried Dick. Then, as the truth flashed upon him: "Why, Jerry, it was that poor boy with the sheep--the boy I tried to save." "No; it was you, sir--I followed you, and got there just too late." "You did!" "Yes, sir, I did." "But you don't understand, Jerry." "No. I don't; and that's the worst of it, sir," cried Jerry, piteously. "You was buried, for I followed yer; so how can you be here now a-talking to me?" "But don't you see?" "Yes, I do now. You got to know all about it, and you're an impostor; that's what you are!" "Oh, Jerry, you always were a fool!" cried Dick, angrily. "Don't you see that it was the poor fellow they found--the drowning boy I tried to save?" "Then you didn't try to drown yourself, sir?" "Drown myself! Was I likely to do such a thing? Wasn't it enough that I ran away, like the cowardly fool I was?" "Then you ain't never been dead at all, then, sir?" "Absurd!" "And they buried the wrong man?" "Good Heavens! what a position, Jerry! Yes," cried Dick, startled now by the complications rising before his eyes. "And you really are alive and hearty, and--how you've growed, and--and-- why, of course, it is! Pay you back the money--S'Richard, why I'd--oh, my lad, my lad--I--I--I--oh, what a fool I am!" Fool or no, Jerry Brigley broke down, and sat holding on by his companion's hands sobbing for some moments before he uttered a loud gulp, and then seemed relieved. Meanwhile Dick sat staring straight before him, almost unconscious of poor Jerry's acts. The revelation he had heard was paralysing. It was horrible to think of; and, moment by moment, he began to realise how difficult it would be to convince people of his identity when he went back to claim his own. He had just come to the conclusion that there must be an end to his masquerading now, when Jerry recovered himself sufficiently to demand a full account of how he had escaped from the flood. This had to be given, and then Dick cried bitterly-- "Then my cousin did not die, after all?" "Him? Die? Not, he, sir. He wouldn't, die a bit. He allus was a base deceiver of a fellow--beggin' your pardon, sir." "And I frightened myself into that folly for nothing!" "Well, he was bad, sir, certainly; and the doctors thought so, too. But he allus falls on his feet, sir. I don't. Nice mess I made of it, sir!" "Ah! How came you to enlist, Jerry?" said Dick, forcing himself to take some interest in his old servant. "How came I to 'list, sir? Why, all along o' him. I got in such a mess I had to leave Mr Draycott's." "How, Jerry? Why?" "Got wild, sir. I'd been idgit enough to think as I could make a lot o' money with my savings by putting 'em on hosses, and so soon as I did, sir, they wouldn't win a bit; and, from going to the hosses, I went next to the dogs; and then I was in such a state that there was no chance for me at all; and I wrote to him at last, for I see his name in the paper as being gazetted to the 310th. And what d'yer think he said?" "I don't know, Jerry," said Dick, dreamily, for he was again thinking of his own troubles. "He said I'd better enlist, and then he could have me as his servant again." "Yes, exactly." "Well, sir, it's 'bout the last thing I should ever ha' thought o' doing, but it seemed all right. Officer's servant wouldn't be bad, and there'd sure to be some perks." "Some what?" "Perks, sir--perkisites: old boots and shoes and things. So I 'listed six months ago, and here have I, Jeremiah Brigley, been barked at and drilled till I could stand on my head stiff and go through it all." "Yes, you would have to be drilled," said Dick, thoughtfully; "and how do you get on as his servant?" "Get on, sir? As his servant, sir? Why, he on'y laughed at me, and told me he'd got somebody else; and when I turned rusty, and told him he was no gent, he reported me and had me punished. But I wasn't done, then; for, as soon as I was out, I waits my chance, and then I says to him, 'You look out,' I says, 'and mind I don't make it warm for you.'" "What do you mean?" "Why, go and tell his colonel, sir, all about his borrowing of old Simpson, the tailor, and throwing the credit about that there cheque on to you. For it was a reg'lar swindle, sir; you didn't get none of that money, as I know. Ah, you should have seen how small he was then! Why, he was quite humble to me, and said it was all a mistake, and, as soon as he could, he'd get me for his servant. But he won't, and a good job for him and me, too, S'Richard, sir." "Silence, man!" "I beg pardon, sir. O' course, that's wrong now; but I tell you this, sir: he's made me that wild again with myself, and now about you, sir, that, if I had to cut his hair or strop a razor to shave him, I should chuck the tools out o' window. I daren't go nigh him with such a weppun in my hand." "Rubbish, Jerry! You're absurd!" cried Dick, shaking off the thoughts which troubled him as he determined to go to the colonel or Mr Lacey and explain all. "No, sir, it ain't absurd. Flesh and blood 'll stand a deal, but there comes a time when it won't stand no more. Sir Mark Frayne's one o' they--Here! hold up, sir; it's your turn now." For Dick had started to his feet. "What?" he cried, huskily. "Say that again." "What--about Sir Mark, sir?" "Sir Mark?" "Oh, yes, sir; you was dead and buried, his father died, and he became Sir Mark. Yes, sir, he's a barrownet now, and got all your tin; and, my word, he does make it fly!" _ |
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