A Woman's Burden: A Novel

"Jabez, for God's sake don't. You must run no risks. A word now from anyone casting suspicion upon you and the other affair will all come out."

"He knows nothing of the other affair," retorted Jabez, inclined to argument.

"How can you be so mad. What does that matter when the police know? So does Farren; he's been watching you, do you know that?"

"Farren, Farren? – who the deuce is Farren? Some detective bloke, eh?"

"Farren is a spy," replied Miriam bitterly. "He was the man employed by Mr. Barton. He discovered your name, and that I was your sister. He knows everything about you, everything, Jabez. That was how Mr. Barton had such power over me. I was forced to obey him for your sake."

"Well, that wasn't very hard work I reckon," replied the man with an impatient scowl. "So this Farren chap's been watching me, has he? How did you know that?"

"Mrs. Parsley saw him following you after you left me at the flat the other day."

"What!" exclaimed Jabez – "a tall dark chap, wearing a cloak and a soft hat – nasty-looking devil?"

"Yes; that's the man. You know him?"

"Know him? Of course I know him. Why, he's always coming round here for a pipe and a yarn. He's particularly chummy with me too. He told me his name was Garson."

"Did he speak to you that afternoon?"

"Yes; said it was a rum chance we met. The beggar must have followed me. But why? He knows where to find me when he wants me."

"Has he ever threatened you, or tried to get money from you?"

"Tried to get money from me? The chap's not born, my dear, who'd try such a fool's game as that. Whatever put that into your head."

"Oh, I don't know, Jabez; he's hard up and disreputable, and knowing as he does how you killed – "

"Hush! Confound you." He looked round apprehensively. "Don't speak so loud. Look here, Miriam, strikes me you're right. What with Dundas, and the old lady, and this young devil here, I'm in a tight place. I'd better skip while I can. But I tell you straight, if this Farren, or anyone else for that matter, tries coming it nasty with me, I'll do for 'em and then for myself. So you know. I'm not going to be taken alive. Now go on, tell me more about this beggar. Are you sure he knows as much as you fancy he does?"

"Quite sure, Jabez. He knows, at all events, that there's a price upon your head for murder." Then rapidly she told him how Farren had come to be in such a position towards Barton, and how he had always done the Squire's dirty work.

Jabez listened attentively, and chuckled to himself.

"Oh, that was the reason, was it? Now I see it all."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Listen to me, Miriam. I know how to deal with Farren and Shorty. Let them interfere with me, and they'll be precious sorry they did, I can tell you. Now then, if I'm to get away, I must have some more cash. I've spent some of that you gave me."

"I expected that," said Miriam, slipping her hand in her pocket. "Jabez, can't you stop drinking even when your life is in danger?"

"Oh, hold your tongue, and don't begin preaching now. How much have you got here?" he said, weighing her purse.

"Twenty pounds – a ten-pound note and gold. It is every farthing I have."

Mother Mandarin's ears caught the clink of the gold, and she crawled towards them.

"Lovey, dovey, give aunty the blunt; she wants 'eaps of it – 'eaps of it!"

Jabez took the money from the purse and put it in his pocket. As the woman clamoured on he swore at her. She yelled at him and threatened. With an oath he picked her up and pitched her like a bale of goods on to an unoccupied mattress.

"Get outside, Miriam," he said, "sharp; I'll follow."

Only too anxious to escape from the repulsive scene Miriam hurried down the stairs. Jabez quickly followed, banging the door with such force as to shake the crazy house.

Then bolt upright sat Shorty with a twinkle in his eye.

"So that's it, is it?" he mumbled. "Murder, eh? S'elp me, I'll get some dibs out o' this, or my bloomin' name ain't Shorty!"

CHAPTER XII.

JABEZ SEEKS AN OLD FRIEND

With the best part of fifty pounds in his pocket, Jabez Crane took counsel with himself as to which portion of the civilised or uncivilised world he should next honour with his presence. That there was all-round prejudice against his remaining in London seemed, from what his sister had said, tolerably certain. And, in truth, he confessed to himself that even Lambeth had its limitations as a place of residence.

And so, on the following morning, he set out for the office of the Beaver line of steamers, which, as is well known, ply between the ports of Liverpool and Montreal, with the intention of booking a steerage passage in the next boat leaving for that port, and with a vague notion of gradually making his way thence into the heart of the gold-bearing country, about which the more fabulous tales had percolated recently, even to the remote habitation of Mother Mandarin.

His berth secured, Jabez turned his steps towards the Strand, He had not walked far when the thought struck him that he was in a position to afford a penny 'bus. Putting his thought into action he mounted one. At the bottom of Fleet Street he saw something that caused him considerable surprise. There, sitting inside the same omnibus, reflected in a more than usually shiny plate-glass window, was the familiar form of Shorty. Shorty too, then, had been able to afford a penny ride! Strange! It was the second time he had come upon him unexpectedly that morning. At Temple Bar, where he alighted, there was no longer doubt in Jabez' mind. Shorty was following him – had been following him ever since he left Lambeth. Turning suddenly on his heel he made straight for the youth, and seized him by the collar.

"'Ere," whined the quondam Gideon Anab, struggling to get free, "lemme go, carn't yer; I'll kick yer shins to bits if yer don't.

"You young gaol-bird," said Jabez, holding him all the tighter, "what d'ye mean by coming after me like this?"

"I want to tell yer something if ye'll only stop!"

"And must you follow me half over London to tell me something – you – out with it, what is it?"

"It's about Garson; 'e's arter yer!"

"After me? What d'you mean?"

"Step round 'ere into this 'ere back street and I'll tell yer. But yer'll 'ave to give us a quid!"

They moved down into Essex Street. Jabez felt half inclined to yield. But he thought better of it.

"Look here, young man, I should have thought you'd ha' known better than to try your beastly hanky panky business on with me. You'll just tell me anything you know, and I'll reward you afterwards according to what I think it's worth; d'you see?"

"Well, you'll say it's worth a tidy bit I reckon. I'll tell yer this much now; that Garson cove's only 'untin' yer to git 'em off 'is own track!"

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean as I seed quite enough down at that there Thorpe place to string 'im up if I liked to blab. But look 'ere, pal, you've got to treat me square on this job. You be at the shop to-night – there's too many coppers round about 'ere for my likin'. There's one of 'em got 'is eye on me already."

"Right you are – at Mother Mandarin's to-night. What time?"

"Oh, somewhere about eight, pal," and with a whistle, indicative of approaching danger, Mr. Shorty made his way towards the Embankment.