THE UNDOING OF SCHWARTZ

Told by Minkie

I SUPPOSE it was very wrong of me to leave home without warning. Mam says that if I had told her what I meant to do she would have been spared all anxiety. Of course, Mam means that now; my own private impression is that all sorts of objections might have occurred to her then; and any interference with my plan might have upset things altogether. However, if I tell the story in my own way, you will see I had several good reasons for acting as I did. One of my copy-books had a head-line: “It is a dangerous yet true axiom that the end justifies the means,” and I never understood that sentence until I read in a paper how a clever little boy had extinguished a fire in a bedroom by pulling a plug out of the cistern in an attic overhead. Had there been no fire, that clever little boy would have got spanked. See?

And there was no time to be lost. Seven powerful negroes had not come to Dale End for amusement. They meant mischief. Without going so far as killing us all in our beds, they could easily have attacked the house and held us up, as they say in America, until the ju-ju was found. They were not afraid of the law; six of them were ready to go to prison provided the seventh got clear away with their funny little god. And what would Mam have thought then? And Evangeline? And what would Polly have said?

Jim, too, was in league with our own maids to search everywhere for the ju-ju. Isn’t it odd that you can’t trust your fellow-mortals? Dan, or Bob, or Tib would die sooner than play the sneak; even that sarcastic old parrot would never betray the Gang, and little Rikki, though he is a newcomer, is with us tooth and nail. Anyhow, what between Schwartz and the servants inside, and Prince John and his tribesman outside, I made up my mind to act a bit sooner than I intended. Perhaps the ju-ju egged me on also. You never can tell. The mysteries of fetish-worship are beyond me.

Of course, I kept Jim’s appointment with the African Prince. It was nearly dark when I crossed the green, and there were four negroes standing in the road near the Manor gate. They were all much of a size, and I thought I should not be able to recognize the man who came to our house. But I spotted him at once. There must be something in being born a ruler, even a savage one. Prince John was quite different to the others in his manners and appearance. I was sorry he wore English clothes. It would have been fine if he were stalking about in feathers and a leopard skin, though I expect, poor fellow, he would have caught his death of cold.

The four paid no heed to me until I stopped and said “Hello!”

That made them look at me, and Prince John said: “Have you a message for me?”

He thought I was some girl from the village, but I quickly put him right on that point.

“Yes,” I answered. “Come here. I wish to speak to you alone.”

Then he knew me, as he had heard me talking to Dad on our way from the station in the victoria. He advanced a few steps.

“Oh,” he said, “one of Mr. Grosvenor’s daughters? I remember. My ankle is still stiff where you held it. You must have strong hands, for a child. Now, what can I do for you? Have you brought me what I seek?”

He spoke as if he were a king, not a bit like the affected drawl of our local M.P. when he opens a bazaar, but it was necessary that I should make him jump, so I replied, rather off-handedly:

“It all depends on the price you are willing to pay.”

That fetched him like a shot. He came quite close and looked down at me eagerly. I could see the whites of his eyes, and they reminded me of a pollywog, but I kept a straight face.

“Do you mean to say you have found a bit of carved ivory, with a monkey’s head and a little beaded skirt? If so, girl, give it to me, and I will reward you with a handful of gold,” he cried.

“I have not got your ju-ju in my possession at this moment,” I said, speaking slowly, and watching him as intently as Dan watches the mouth of a burrow when he hears the rabbits squeaking at the sight of a ferret. “But I am fairly certain I can lay my hand on it, on terms.”

“Terms! Anything you ask! What is your price? Take me with you now—”

“Not so fast, Prince John,” said I, drawing away a foot or so—because a negro does look rather horrid when you are too near him, although he may only be showing animation, which, in his case, means teeth—“there is nothing to be gained by hurry. You can’t have your ju-ju to-night, but you may have it to-morrow night, provided you are willing to pay my father exactly half the sum you offered Mr. Schwartz.”

My heart beat a trifle faster when the words were out. Jack did not mention the amount. It might have been a few hundred pounds, or several thousands. I imagined it was a tolerably large figure, or Schwartz would not have been so ready to hand me fifty pounds for the mere expenses.

Prince John did not hesitate a second.

“I agree,” he cried, “yet surely Mr. Grosvenor has not sent you to arrange such an important matter with me!”

He might have been his own ju-ju addressing a black-beetle, or Lord Kitchener talking to a tin soldier, but I didn’t budge another inch. What I wanted to know was the price. So I made him jump again.

“Mr. Grosvenor knows nothing whatever about it,” I said. “This affair is absolutely between you and me, and must remain so until you bring the money to our house to-morrow evening.”

“Do I understand that the ju-ju is in your hands, that no one else is aware of the fact, and that you alone are in treaty with me for its restoration?”

I caught the change in his voice. If I hadn’t a well-trained ear I could never distinguish the various shades of meaning in the speech of other members of the Gang, because they really don’t use words, you know, but just sounds which tell me what they want to say. After all, that is talking, in a sense. And his prince-ship forgot he was in Surrey. Perhaps, like me, when I read an exciting book, he fancied himself far away, in a land where a big yellow river gurgles through a swamp all dark with trees, and a hundred thousand black men were ready to do anything he commanded. Anyhow, I wasn’t black.

“You have stated the facts,” I answered coolly.

“But isn’t it somewhat daring? Are you not afraid? You are a small English girl, and we are big, strong Africans. You are taking a great risk, eh?”

Again he came nearer, but I stood my ground, though he could not tell that my nails were digging into the palms of my hands.

“I am English, of course, though not so small,” I said, “and I am so perfectly well aware you are an African that I have arranged for your ju-ju to be burnt to ashes unless I am home at six o’clock.”

Parbleu! as mademoiselle used to forbid me to say, though it only means “By blue!” he altered his tune mighty sharp, or it would be more correct to put it that he came back with a flop from the Upper Niger to Dale End.

“It is very extraordinary,” he muttered, “but I cannot bring myself to disbelieve you. Captain Stanhope said that if you were friendly to us, something might be done. I accept your proposal. Hand over my property and I, in return, will hand your father five thousand pounds.”

There! It was out. You know what it is like when you wade into the sea and take your first header through a curling breaker. That is how I felt. Something buzzed in my ears, but I was determined to keep control over my voice.

“In notes?” I managed to say.

“Certainly. One does not carry such sums in gold. I have the money here; I was prepared, as you are aware, to pay Mr. Schwartz twice as much. But what guarantee have I that you will not sell the ju-ju to him for a higher amount?”

“You have my word, and the knowledge that I came to you of my own free will.”

“Your groom told you I would be here?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I trust you. What time shall I come to your house?”

“At nine o’clock.”

“I warn you I am in no mood to be tricked in this matter. You see those men there?” and he glanced over his shoulder towards the other negroes. “They will face death cheerfully to gain our common object.”

“You may rely on what I have said.”

“Thank you. Yet it is amazing, quite amazing.”

I thought so, too. But I wanted some information, and I had to hurry, as it was growing late.

“Your people are Kwantus, aren’t they? Have you ever heard of the Kwantu mine?”

“Of course I have. It is in my kingdom. Schwartz owns it, the thief.”

Well, I never! I did gasp a bit at that.

“Are you sure?” I was forced to say.

“Who should know better than I? It is the best mine in West Africa. The price of the shares shows that its value is appreciated by others, though I cannot understand how so much is known in England about it, as it has hardly been opened up. Schwartz obtained the concession solely because we hoped he would give us back our ju-ju.”

Yet I had in my pocket a letter from some Stock Exchange people to Schwartz himself, telling him they could not ascertain the name of the real owner! That was the letter Rikki secured at Polly’s bidding, and hid in his cage.

Somehow, it seemed to prove that Schwartz was really the bad man Prince John made him out to be. I did not quite grasp the meaning of it all, though I was sure that dear old Dad was being swindled, but with fifty-three pounds nineteen and sixpence in my pocket, and five thousand pounds as good as paid to father, and the ju-ju safe in the scullery copper, where Evangeline would light a fire after supper, it would be queer if I failed to bring Schwartz to reason. Besides, I meant to secure the assistance of an older head than mine, as this company business rather bothered me, and I was too young to be well up in “squeezes.”

My new friend lifted his hat with a grand air when I said “Good night.” I walked away quietly, and I heard such a hubbub of strange talk when Prince John rejoined his companions.

I met two other negroes on the road across the green. I fancied they were watching the turning to the railway station to make sure that Schwartz did not leave Holly Lodge without their knowledge. At any rate, I determined to take no risks next morning, as it was more than probable Prince John would tell his confederates of the new power behind the ju-ju.

That night, in my locked bedroom, I examined the little idol very carefully. It was roughly carved; the ivory was yellow with age, and covered with tiny cracks, which looked like a net of fine hair. The skirt was made of a sort of hemp, plaited together, with a small colored bead between each knot. It was just a strip of beaded cloth, which lapped over at the joint, and was held in position by a piece of string. The beads differed from any I had ever seen, but I was almost certain the monkey’s eyes were emeralds, but not good ones, as Mam has a nice emerald and diamond ring, so I know.

I don’t mind telling you now that I was half afraid of the thing. It seemed to be quite absurd that so many grown men should be willing to kill each other for its ownership. One might imagine a baby crying for it, because babies always prefer the most disreputable wooden horse or dirtiest rag doll, but it made one’s hair tingle to think of war, and money, and good or bad fortune for goodness knows how many people, depending on the whereabouts of this eight-inch piece of tusk. Worst of all, I was beginning to believe in it. It seemed to squint at me in a chummy way with its wicked little eyes. Before I so much as heard of its existence or knew its name it brought me luck, just because it was lying in Schwartz’s portmanteau in the carriage. You will remember I touched Schwartz for five pounds in five minutes on Christmas Eve. On Christmas Day I got fifty out of him, and now Prince John was ready to give me five thousand. I couldn’t help wondering if it would keep up the pace, and add another nought each day I held it.

And that made me feel rather horrid, so I stuffed it out of sight under the bolster, and said my prayers; then the creeps passed away, and I fell asleep.

There was a sunshiny frost when I awoke, and every tree and shrub in the garden was decked with sparkling gems. Evangeline seemed to be annoyed when I unlocked the door.

“Nice thing,” she said, “makin’ me bump me nose in that fashion!”

Dan came in with her, and I found that she had clattered along with the hot water without looking where she was going. Of course, the door didn’t yield as usual, so her head struck the panel.

Dan and I laughed, and Evangeline rubbed her nose with a black finger. Then we laughed some more, and Evangeline looked at herself in the glass.

“We’ll all be niggers in this house soon,” she declared in a rage, and slammed out.

“Well, what’s the game to-day?” said Dan, sitting on his tail.

“Nothing more than yesterday,” I answered.

“I told the parrot that, but the blessed bird is swinging on his perch and roaring something about another revolution.”

“What does he mean?”

“He’s talking Spanish, I believe. The few words I could make sense of showed that he regarded last night’s general contentment as the calm before the storm.”

“Dan,” said I, “you are only two years old. Polly is twenty, at the least. If you count up you will find that he is ten times wiser than you.”

Dan looked at me suspiciously. After thinking for a minute or two and scratching hard on the back of his head, he got me to let him out. When I came down to breakfast I discovered him listening to Polly, who was singing extracts from the latest musical comedies. The instant I appeared Polly became silent. He clung to the wires sideways, and watched me steadily, first with one eye and then with the other. Even Tibbie sat blinking at me from the hearth-rug, and when I went round to the stable, dear old Bob turned in his stall and stared at me solemnly. Talk about a ju-ju, the Gang can read my very thoughts!

Dan and Tibbie and Rikki began to follow at my heels, and it grieved me very much to be compelled to shut them up in the coach-house. But I had to do it. I put on my beaver hat and an astrachan jacket, went out through the front gate, doubled down the paddock, crossed the fir plantation, and made my way by a field path to Breckonhurst, the next station to Dale End. I took a return ticket to London, remained in the waiting-room until a train came in, and then popped quickly into the nearest empty carriage. At Waterloo I sat in the train until the other passengers had quitted the platform. After that, I took my chance of not being recognized.

My first call was at a jeweller’s in Piccadilly. I showed him the ju-ju, and asked him what the beads were. He screwed a funny-shaped glass into his right eye and examined them.

“They are different varieties of chalcedony,” he said. “There are agates, carnelians, cat’s eyes, onyx, sards, and three kinds of flints in this collection.”

“Good gracious!” said I.

“What is it?” he asked, looking curiously at the idol.

“A jou-jou,” I answered, blessing mademoiselle inwardly.

The man didn’t speak French, so I told him jou-jou meant “toy,” and that satisfied him. We had some more talk, and I am sure I surprised him, but he was very civil, and took no end of trouble to discover an address I wanted. It turned out to be a little street off Tottenham Court Road. I drove there in a hansom, remained ten minutes, and hired the same cab back to the West-end. The cabman wanted to charge me four shillings, but I gave him half-a-crown and looked for his number.

“S’elp me!” he cried, “wot’s things a-comin’ to?” And, with that, he whipped his poor horse into a canter, which is the nasty, vindictive way that sort of man has of expressing his feelings.

Then I had a real slice of luck. I met Mr. Warden, my father’s solicitor, just coming out of his office. He was quite taken aback at seeing me, especially when he found that Dad or Mam was not with me, and my good fortune was that had I been a few seconds later I should have missed him, as he was going to join Mrs. Warden in Brighton, having simply run up to town for an hour to glance at his letters. I was sorry for Mrs. Warden, but I had to keep him.

Although he was a lawyer, and a very smart one, Dad says, he did open his eyes wide when I got fairly started with my story. I told him everything, or nearly everything, and the only bits that puzzled him were my references to Dan, or Bob, or Tib. As for what the parrot said, or Rikki did, he was too polite to smile, but he kept balancing his gold-rimmed spectacles on his nose, and pressing the tips of his fingers together, until I thought it best not to mention the Gang any more, because they seemed to bother him.

But, oh my, didn’t he look serious when I showed him the letter from Schwartz’s brokers, and told him about the “squeeze” in Kwantus! He asked me if I knew what paper I got my information from, and I said “yes,” so he tinkled a little bell and sent a clerk to buy a copy in Fleet-street. I was not sure about the date, but the clerk, who was such a nice boy, said he could search the file.

By the time I had finished, the clerk returned with the newspaper. Mr. Warden changed his spectacles, and said “Hum” and “Ha” several times while he was reading the paragraph. Then he put on the gold ones again, and gazed at me.

“You are a very remarkable girl, Millicent,” he said.

“I suppose my story sounds odd,” I answered, “but it all happened exactly as I have told you, and there is hardly anything that takes place in Dale End which the Gang cannot form a reliable opinion about.”

“The Gang?” he repeated.

“I beg your pardon, I meant my animal friends, but, of course, you don’t quite believe in them.”

“I believe that you talk to them, and thus teach yourself to express your views very clearly. At any rate, we can let that pass. May I see this phenomenon of a ju-ju?”

I smiled, because I was expecting him to say that.

“If you don’t mind,“ I explained, ”I would rather show it to you in the train this evening.”

“This evening? Are we not going to Dale End at once?”

“I shall not be ready until nearly six o’clock. I have a lot of things to do. Are you quite sure you will meet me at the station?”

He was positive, he said, but he was distressed at the notion that I should be hours and hours alone in London, so the nice young clerk was ordered to take care of me. I led him rather a dance, and the way I spent Schwartz’s gold seemed to give him a pain. Mr. Warden promised to telegraph to Mam to tell her I was quite safe, and that we should both be home about seven, but he was so astounded by my adventures that he wrote Southend in place of Dale End, and the telegram reached us in a letter two days later, with Mr. Warden’s apologies. Do you know, I am convinced the ju-ju had something to do with that. If Schwartz had heard who Mr. Warden was, he might have smelt a rat. And isn’t it odd, as Bob pointed out, that Southend should come after West-end, and Dale End, and Ostend and Mile End?

The clerk and I had lunch and tea together and he insisted on paying, though I had ever so much more money in my pocket than he. By the time we reached Waterloo he looked rather tired, because we took no more cabs, and I went to lots of places I wanted to see, so I bought him a box of cigarettes as a present, and he said he hoped I would often come to London on business.

Mr. Warden was waiting for me, and the moment the guard set eyes on me he came running up.

“So you’re here, are you, Miss Grosvenor?” he cried. “A fine thing you’ve bin and gone and done. All Dale End is inquirin’ after you, an’ your pore father is nearly wild.”

Mr. Warden gave him a shilling, saying it was all right. But it wasn’t. When we reached our station, and began to walk to the Lodge, as Bob was not there to meet us, every person we met turned and followed us, until there was quite a mob at our heels when we crossed the green. We didn’t know then that Mr. Banks, our policeman, had all the negroes, including Prince John, locked up in his tiny police-station. Jack and several men from the Manor were helping him to mount guard over them until more policemen arrived, as the Dale-enders wanted to lynch the black men, which would have been a sad job for everybody.

Our escort blocked the road in front of our gate, but they did not venture to come inside the grounds. Dan was the first to hear the noise, and he barked. Then he caught my step on the gravel, and Mam will never again say that a dog can’t speak, for he told her quite plainly that I was coming.

Well, you can guess all the crying and kissing that went on, and how Dad tried to be angry while he took me in his arms, but Mr. Warden spoke about the telegram, and declared he would write to the Times and the Postmaster General. Tib climbed up on my shoulder, and Rikki gave my hand such a queer little lick, while Poll did several lightning twists on the cross-bar, and whistled “Won’t you come home, Bill Bailey.” I heard dear Bob neighing in the stable, and I went to kiss his velvety nose the first minute I could spare.

Mr. Schwartz was really as delighted as anybody that I had turned up, so he failed to notice how cool Mr. Warden was when Dad introduced them. I had hardly got my hat and jacket off, and was hugging Mam for the tenth time, when Dad called me into the morning-room, where he and Schwartz and Mr. Warden were standing.

Solicitors can be very sharp if they like, and our lawyer surprised me with the way he tackled Schwartz.

“My young friend here,” he said, meaning me, “tells me she has promised to restore to you a certain article known as a ju-ju, which you lost on Christmas Eve.”

“Yes,” said Schwartz, quite calmly. You see, he was a smart man of business, and I suppose he was not afraid of lawyers, or he would not have been able to keep all the money he was worth.

“Well,” went on Mr. Warden, “she is prepared to hand it to you in return for your quittance of her father’s obligation to find you one thousand shares in the Kwantu Mines, Limited.”

That staggered Schwartz somewhat, but he said, in a husky voice: “I fail to understand you.”

“That is a pity. I wish to avoid a scandal. If you compel candor I shall be obliged to tell you who is the real owner of that property, and the law of England punishes fraudulent conspiracy very heavily. The links in the chain are quite complete; they even include our possession of a letter to you from a certain firm of brokers stating that they had failed to discover the genuine proprietors of the company.”

“Eh?” cried Dad, looking at Schwartz, “what is this? Are you sure of your facts, Warden?”

I once read in a paper that some man who was fighting another man “went down and out.” I didn’t know what it meant, but it seemed to fit Schwartz’s case. He went limp all at once.

“Quite sure, Grosvenor,” said the solicitor. “You can thank your daughter for putting me on the track of a very discreditable and unsavory business. I have prepared the necessary documents, Mr. Schwartz. Will you execute them without further explanation?”

“Where is the ju-ju?” demanded Schwartz, pulling himself together, and glaring at me with eyes like flint marbles.

“Here,” said I, hauling it out of my pocket.

He took it, held it in his left hand, and signed the papers placed before him by the lawyer. Dad signed, too, and Mr. Warden witnessed the signatures. Not a word was spoken. Schwartz went out of the room, and Dad rang for Evangeline to tell Jim to get the victoria ready at once.

When Schwartz drove through our gate on his way to the station the mob cheered him. I expect he felt like being cheered. Bob told me afterwards that he said a naughty word to our lame porter when he wanted to carry the small bag in which the ju-ju was placed, I suppose, because gentlemen’s pockets are not like mine. Still, from what I heard later, he must have taken it out of the bag when he was safe in the train.

It was then nearly eight o’clock, and Dad sent Mole with a note to Jack to say that the negroes ought to be liberated at once. Jack, who has plenty of brains, brought his uncle with him to congratulate Dad and Mam about me, and they stayed to dinner. Jack and Dorothy sat together, so matters looked all right in that quarter. They did not say a great deal. Just as in Schwartz’s case, silence was eloquent. Dad brought me once to see a play at Drury Lane, and I imagined all sorts of terrifying things when the villain crept nearer the defenceless heroine. If either of them spoke it was not half so thrilling. I had just the same feeling when Mr. Warden kept waiting for Schwartz to admit he was beaten.

Prince John rang our bell exactly at nine o’clock.

“Wah!” shrieked Evangeline when she opened the door. Then she fled. I had to rush and grab Dan, but I smiled sweetly at my dark visitor, and asked him to come into the morning-room. I knew that Mr. Warden and Uncle Stanhope were telling each other that every motorist should be sent to penal servitude on a second conviction, so I had no trouble in beckoning Dad to join me for a minute.

He was rather surprised at meeting the negro, but he apologized quite nicely for the Christmas Eve incident, and also for any inconvenience which the other might have undergone owing to the action of the police. I was wondering if Dad meant to put his hand in his pocket and produce some money, but he told me afterwards that he felt exactly the same as I did with regard to Prince John. The man looked every inch a king, and I have reckoned up that he was at least seventy-four inches high.

But, before I could stop him, Dad nearly gave me away badly.

“I ought to tell you,” he went on, “that, from circumstances which have come to my knowledge, I now sympathize deeply with you in your search for the—er—curious West African—er—god which you wish to recover, and I must say that if my—er—daughter Millicent had consulted me—”

So Dad was just beginning to tell the Kwantu chief in his best J.P. manner that Schwartz was again the proud possessor of the ju-ju, when I broke in:

“One moment, father dear,” I cried, “you will understand things ever so much better when you hear what Prince John and I have to say to each other. Have you kept your part of the bargain?” I asked the black man quickly.

He took from his coat pocket a small bundle tied with pink tape.

“Here are fifty Bank of England notes for £100 each,” he said.

“Then here is your ju-ju,” I answered, diving into my skirt pocket, and handing him the original piece of ivory, beaded kilt and all complete, and you may now know what a trouble it was to get a fair copy of it made for Schwartz during the few hours I had at my disposal in London.

Dad looked awfully severe, after his first gasp of amazement had passed.

“Millicent,“ he said, ”what have you done?”

“I have served Mr. Schwartz as he tried to serve you, father dear,” I replied. “As for Prince John, he offered the man who stole the ju-ju ten thousand pounds if it were given back, so I saw no harm in arranging that half the amount should be paid to you. In any case, I always meant the poor black people to have it. It was a very great shame for Mr. Schwartz to take from them a thing which they thought so much of.”

For a little while he could say nothing. Like me, he was watching the black prince, who really treated that absurd—I mean that extraordinary scrap of carved ivory, as if it were the most precious article in the world. It might have been all one blazing diamond by the reverent way he handled it. When he was quite sure that it was his own ju-ju—and he did not take for granted, like Schwartz, that it was the genuine thing until he had looked at every mark—he pressed its funny monkey face to his lips, his forehead, and his breast. He paid not the least heed to us or what we were saying. It was not until he had produced a small, finely woven mat from the pocket in which he kept the notes, and wrapped the ju-ju in it before putting it away, that he gave us any attention.

Of course, Dad started a second time to talk as if he were at a Conservative meeting.

“It has given me the greatest pleasure to observe that my—er—daughter Millicent has restored to you the—er—interesting object which you seem to value so highly, but I need hardly say that—er—the payment of any such—er—astounding reward as five thousand pounds is utterly out of the question.”

“My people pay the money gladly,” said the negro prince, dragging himself up in the grandest way imaginable. “I tell you, too, that your daughter’s name will be honored in my country, and when I and my friends return home we shall not fail to send her other tokens of our regard and good will.”

“We cannot accept this money,” said Dad, firmly.

“It is quite essential that you should,” said the other with equal coolness. “If you refuse it now, I shall simply be compelled to send it to you through the post. We lost our ju-ju owing to the remissness of its guardians. We must atone for that, and the payment must be made in treasure—or blood.”

You can have no idea how he uttered those last two words. He spoke quietly, and in a low voice, but somehow I could feel in them the edge of one of those sharp, heavy choppers—called “machetes,” Polly says—which the maids in the Marquis o’ Granby saw in the negroes’ bedrooms.

So it ended in our shaking hands with Prince John, and in Dad’s bringing the notes into the drawing-room to show them to Mam and the others before he put them away in the silver safe. Everybody made a tremendous fuss over me, and Poll sang “The man who broke the Bank at Monte Carlo,” but I was only too delighted that we had had such a jolly Christmas, and were all good friends again, though it looked rather glum at one time. They made me talk nearly all this story before I went to bed, and I heard old Mr. Stanhope growl that if Dorothy was in such a hurry to get married he didn’t see why she shouldn’t.

Dad did not tell me until long after, but he sent Mr. Schwartz his fifty-five pounds next day, when he also bought me the loveliest bay pony to ride. I christened him “Prince John” when I introduced him to the gang.

And that reminds me. In the morning paper the day afterwards, I found a most exciting paragraph. I whistled Dan, took Tibbie and Rikki under each arm, and asked Mole to carry Poll’s cage to the stable.

Bob and Prince John looked round in their stalls to see what was the matter, and Bob said:

“What is it now? Has a North American Indian arrived in Dale End, or what?”

“You listen,” I said. “I came across this in the paper just now: ‘An extraordinary outrage was committed in the precincts of Waterloo Station on Thursday evening—’”

“Thursday evening!” cried Tib. “Why, that’s the evening Schwartz—”

“Don’t interrupt,” I said, and went on reading: “‘Mr. Montague Schwartz, the well-known West African millionaire, was leaving the station in a four-wheeled cab when two gigantic negroes rushed to the near side of the vehicle as it was descending the steep slope into Waterloo Road, and threw it bodily over.’”

“Ha! ha!” roared Dan, but I silenced him with a look.

“‘The cabman was, of course, flung headlong from his seat; Mr. Schwartz was imprisoned inside, and ran grave risk of serious injury owing to the plunging of the frightened horse.’”

“Silly creatures, some horses,” observed Poll, and Bob didn’t like it, but I continued:

“‘In the darkness and confusion no one seems to have noticed the negroes, who made off with Mr. Schwartz’s luggage, even appropriating a leather dressing-case which was on the front seat inside, and had fallen on top of the alarmed occupant. Mr. Schwartz, when extricated from his dangerous position, behaved with admirable coolness. He felt in his pockets, and declared that the rascals who had adopted this novel and exceedingly daring method of highway robbery had only secured some clothing and other articles which could be easily replaced. He was naturally somewhat shaken, however. After liberally compensating the cab-driver, Mr. Schwartz sought the escort of two policemen, when he entered another vehicle to proceed to his house in Brook-street. During the course of yesterday the police arrested several negroes, but neither the cabman nor Mr. Schwartz could identify any of them, and they were set at liberty.’ I think that’s rather fine; don’t you? Please don’t all speak at once.”

But they did, and lost their tempers because nobody could get a hearing; Bob and Prince John stamped and rattled the chains of their head-stalls, Dan chased Tibbie up the loft ladder, and Poll shrieked at Rikki:

“You’re a miserable, cat-whiskered soor-ka butcha, that’s what you are, and I mean it this time, whatever it is!”

And that is all, I think, for this time.

Transcriber’s Notes:

Minor changes have been made to regularize hyphenation and correct minor printer errors.

Illustrations have been moved below paragraphs to allow smoother reading in this e-book.

Half page chapter titles before the chapter number have been removed as repetitive.

Page numbers for the blank and chapter title pages are shown with the page number as a range of numbers, to reflect the physical book's page numbering.