Chapter XXXIII

The first thing he did was to remove from the house which had been occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Chaytor, and take a room in a poor locality, for which he paid four shillings a week. Including this sum he thought he could live as well as he desired upon a pound a week. He experienced a grim satisfaction from the reflection that he was expending upon his own personal necessities some small portion of the fortune of which Newman Chaytor had so successfully robbed him. If the day ever arrived when it would be necessary to go into accounts with Newman Chaytor this slight expenditure would be placed to the villain's credit. He had an idea of returning to his lodgings in Mrs. Philpott's house, the assistance of whose husband he determined again to seek, but upon second thoughts he saw that he would be more free to act if he were not under the kindly surveillance of this estimable couple. Having established himself in his new quarters he went direct to Mrs. Philpott's residence in Lambeth. The woman was overjoyed to see him.

"Why, sir, why," she cried, as she came to the door fresh from the washing-tub wiping the suds from her arms, "this _is_ a pleasure. Philpott will be more than glad. Here, children, children! Come and see an old friend; there never was such a favourite with them as you were, sir. They have been continually taking you into custody and locking you up, and trying and acquitting you, without a stain on your character." Mrs. Philpott laughed. "You mustn't mind ways; if they didn't think all the world of you they'd give you six months hard labour. It's the revenge they take upon people they don't like. Don't crowd round the gentleman so, you rude things! Where's your manners, I should like to know? Won't you walk in, sir? I hope you're coming back to live with us; there's your room waiting for you; it's never been occupied, and Philpott says it never shall be, unless you take it."

"I am living elsewhere, Mrs. Philpott," said Basil, "but I've come to see your husband on business.

"I'm sorry he's not in, sir," said Mrs. Philpott; "he won't be home till ten o'clock to-night."

"Can I see him, then; my business will not admit of delay?"

"Certainly, sir. Philpott would get up in the middle of the night to serve you, and so would I. You'll stop and have a bite with us, sir, I hope?"

"No, thank you, I haven't time; I will be here punctually at ten."

"Well, sir," said Mrs. Philpott, regretfully, "if you must go; but you'll take a bit of supper with us."

"I will, with pleasure. Your husband is sure to be at home, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir; Philpott's the soul of punctuality. He's gone for a day in the country to see an old friend, and his train is due at Victoria at twenty past nine. You're looking better than you did, sir."

"I am better, and in better spirits."

"Do you remember what I said, sir, about clouds with silver linings? Lord Sir! When things are at their worst they're sure to mend. What men and women have got to do is never to give in. Oh, I've had my lessons, sir."

"So have I, Mrs. Philpott: I shall be with you at ten."

Patting the children on their heads, and giving them a penny each--he felt like a shilling, but it was not exactly his own money he was spending, and this small benefaction was a luxury which did not properly come under the head of personal expenses--Basil, with pleasant nods, left them to their favourite occupation of taking people up and trying them for imaginary offences against the public peace. At nightfall, having an idle hour or two before his appointment with Mr. Philpott, an impulse which he made no effort to control directed his steps towards Long Acre, and then to Queen Street, where the woman whom Newman Chaytor had betrayed and deserted carried on her business. The workgirls from the large establishments in the vicinity of the street were coming from their shops, most of them in blithe spirits, being young and in agreeable employment. It was the holiday time of the day with them, and they were hurrying home, some doing a little sweet-hearting on the road which it was pleasant to contemplate. There were pictures not so pleasant; great hulking men smoking pipes and lounging about, with "Brute" stamped on their features, and women as coarse, whose birth and training perhaps were a legitimate answer to their worse than common language and manners. Basil's observations of London life during the last few months had supplied him with ample food for reflection, and he could honestly have preached a homily on charity which better men than he--say, for instance, philanthropists or statesmen with hobbies--might serviceably have taken to heart.

His attention was diverted from these unfortunates by a startling incident. There was a sudden cry of "Fire!" and the thoroughfare became instantly thronged.

"Where is it?--where is it?" "There, you fool! Can't you see it?--in Queen Street." "It's a private house." "No, it isn't, it's a shop--a milliner's. An old house; it'll burn like tinder." "A good job it isn't in the middle of the night; they'd have been burnt in their beds."

The sparks rushed up in fierce exultation. "The next house is caught! The whole street 'll be down. Here's the fire-engine!"

In gallant haste the horses tore along, the brave firemen, heroes one and all, standing firm and ready. Basil followed the crowd, and with difficulty pushed his way through as far as he was allowed. It was Mrs. Addison's shop that was on fire, and he saw immediately that there was no chance of saving it. The weeping women were outside, wringing their hands; among them the woman who had accused him, and her mother, who had cast upon him that ever vivid look of abhorrence and hatred. So quick and sudden and fierce was the fire that not a stick of furniture nor a yard of ribbon was saved. The women strove to rush into the shop, but the firemen held them back, and with firm kindness impelled them to a place of safety. Basil, edging near to them, and keeping his face hidden, heard what passed between. "We are ruined," said one, despairingly.

"Aren't you insured?" inquired a by-stander.

"Not for a penny," was the answer.

"Ah, you'll have to commence the world all over again."

"Heaven help us!" was the answer. "We are worse than naked; we owe money."

"Never mind, old woman," shouted a tipsy man, "there's the work'us open."

"Shut up, you brute!" cried an indignant female. "Have you no bowels?"

At the words, "We are ruined," a thrill shot through Basil. Here was a woman whom Newman Chaytor had wronged; here was a woman to whom atonement was due. He knew what it was right should be done, and he determined to do it. He lingered near them until the shop lay a mouldering heap of ruins; he heard a kind neighbour offer them lodging for the night; he marked the house they entered; and then he went home to his own lodging of one room. There, safely concealed, was a sum of money amounting to three hundred pounds; he took the whole of it, wrote on a sheet of paper, "In partial atonement of wrong committed in the past," and put the paper and the notes in an envelope, which he addressed to Mrs. Addison. Then he went to Mrs. Philpott's house. "You are late, sir," said that cheerful woman; "an hour behind time."

"I have been detained."

"You're not too late for supper, sir, at all events," said Mrs. Philpott; "I put it back for you."

"You must excuse me," said Basil; "something of pressing importance has occurred, and I want Mr. Philpott to come out with me immediately."

"Quite ready, sir," said Mr. Philpott, rising and getting his hat.

Mrs. Philpott, recognising that the business was urgent, did not press Basil further, although disappointment was in her face.

"At another time," said Basil, "I shall be glad to accept of your hospitality. Come, Mr. Philpott."

As they walked on Basil explained that he wished Mr. Philpott to take up the dropped threads of the search for Newman Chaytor, and then he explained what he wished to do at the present moment.

"It is purely a confidential matter," said Basil, "and is not to be spoken of in any way after the commission is executed. Here is the house. Some women are lodging here for the night whose place of business near Long Acre has been burnt down. You will ask for Mrs. Addison; if a mother and her daughter present themselves it is the daughter you must address. Ask her if she is the woman who has been burnt out, and if she answers in the affirmative give her this envelope, and come away at once. If she seeks to detain you and asks questions, do not answer them. I will wait for you on the opposite side."

He watched Mr. Philpott execute the commission, being right in his conjecture that the women would be too excited to seek their beds until late in the night. The woman with whom he had the interview appeared at the door, and received the envelope; after which Mr. Philpott joined him, as directed. At the corner of the street Basil and his companion paused and looked back at the house. In a few moments the woman who had answered Mr. Philpott's summons came quickly to the street door and looked eagerly up and down; Basil and Mr. Philpott were standing in the shadow, and could not be seen. The light of the street lamp assisted Basil to see her face: it was radiant with joy.

"A good night's work," said Basil, taking Mr. Philpott's arm and walking away. "I will call upon you to-morrow. Good night."

Mr. Philpott left him and proceeded homewards, as did Basil. He did not know that a man was following him with eager curiosity. He put his latchkey in the street door of his lodging, and as he did so the man touched his arm. Basil turned.

"What, Old Corrie!" he cried, in a voice of delight.

"No other," said Old Corrie, calmly. "It _is_ Master Basil. I thought I wasn't mistaken. Well, well! This is a meeting to be thankful for. I'm in luck."