Nicky-Nan, Reservist Part 34

"Fetch up some water, my dear," suggested Builder Gilbert. "When a man's in a fit 'tis no time to ask questions, as you'll learn when you grow up." Again he proffered the ewer.

'Beida ignored it. "When a man's in a fit, do folks help by pokin'

their noses into his cupboards?" she demanded again, not removing her eyes from Mr Pamphlett.

"Pack that child out!" commanded Mr Pamphlett, standing up and addressing Rat-it-all. "Do you hear me?"

"I hear, sir," answered Rat-it-all. "But situated as I be--"

He cast a helpless glance at the child, who seemed to grow in stature as, lifting her forefinger and pointing it at Mr Pamphlett, she advanced into the room and shrilled--

"You've come to steal his money, the three of 'ee! An' you can't take me in nor frighten me, not one of 'ee!"

The high treble voice, or the word "money," or both, fetched Nicky-Nan back to consciousness. He opened his eyes and groaned.

"The money--where's the money?" he muttered. His eyes opened wider.

Then of a sudden his brain cleared. He sat up with a wild cry, almost a scream; and, thrusting Rat-it-all backwards with all the force of one hand, with the other groped on the floor for his walking-staff--which lay, however, a couple of yards from him and close by Mr Pamphlett's feet.

"My money!--Rogues! Cheats!--" He broke down and put a hand to his head in momentary faintness. "Where be I?" Then taking his hand away and catching sight of the blood on it, he yelled out "Murder!

Where's my money? Murder! Thieves!"

"Hush 'ee, Mister Nanjivell." 'Beida dropped on her knees beside him. "Hush 'ee now, co! Here, let _me_ take the towel an' bathe your poor head," she coaxed him. "You've had a fall, an' cut yourself-- that's what happened. An' these men weren't murderin' 'ee, nor shan't while I am here. No, nor they han't stole your money, neither--though I won't say they weren't tryin'."

He submitted, after a feeble convulsive struggle. "Where's my money?" he persisted.

"Your money's all right. Safe as if 'twas in the Bank--safer, I reckon," she added, with an unfriendly glance at Mr Pamphlett.

"What money is this you're talking about?" asked that gentleman, stepping forward. He had no children of his own: and when he spoke to children (which was not often) his tone conveyed that he thought very little of them. He used that tone now: which was sheer blundering folly: and he met his match.

"The money you were huntin' for," answered 'Beida, quick as thought.

"You mustn't speak to me like that. It's naughty and--er-- unbecoming."

"Why? _Weren't_ you lookin' for it?" Her eyes sought Rat-it-all and questioned him.

Mr Pamphlett made haste before his ally could speak. "The Policeman was acting in the execution of his duty." This was a fine phrase, and it took 'Beida aback, for she had not a notion what it meant.

But while she sought for a retort, Mr Pamphlett followed up his advantage, to crush her, and blundered again. "You don't understand that, eh?"

"Not rightly," she admitted.

"Then don't you see how foolish it is for little girls to mix themselves in grown-up people's affairs? A policeman has to do many things in what is called the execution of his duty, For instance,"

continued Mr Pamphlett impressively, "sometimes he takes little girls when they're naughty, and locks them up."

"Fiddlestick!" said 'Beida with a sigh of relief. "Now I know you're ga.s.sin'. . . . Just now you frightened me with your talk of executions, which is what they do to a man when he's murdered some person: and o' course if Nicky--if Mr Nanjivell had been doin'

anything o' _that_ sort--which he hasn', o' course. . . . But when you go on pretendin' as Rat-it-all can lock _me_ up, why then I see your game. Tryin' to frighten me, you are, because I'm small."

"If you were a child of mine," threatened Mr Pamphlett, very red in the gills, "do you know what I'd do to you?"

"No," replied 'Beida; "I can't think. . . . But I reckon 'twould be something pretty mean. Oh, I'm sick an' tired of the gentry!--if you call yourself gentry. First of all you turn Father an' Mother out to find a new home. An' then, as if that wasn' enough, you must come nosin' in after Mr Nanjivell's small savin's. . . . Gentry!" she swung round upon Builder Gilbert. "Here, Mr Gilbert, you're neither gentry nor perlice. When I tell you about Miss Charity Oliver, that calls herself a lady! What must _she_ do but, happenin' on 'Biades-- that's my younger brother, an' scarce turned four--outside o' Mrs Pengelly's, with a bit of gold money in his hand that Mr Nanjivell gave to him in a moment o' weakness,--what must she do (an' callin'

herself a lady, no doubt, all the while) but palm off two bright coppers on him for a swap? . . . That's a _fact_," 'Beida wound up, dabbing the towel gently, but with an appearance of force, against Nicky-Nan's temple, "for I got it out o' the child's own mouth, an'

work enough it was. That's your gentry!"

"Hey?" Nicky-Nan pushed her hand aside. "What's this you're tellin', now?"

"Ask _him!_" she answered, nodding towards Mr Pamphlett. "He knows all about it, an' 'tis no use for him to pretend he don't."

"_Me_ give your small brother--?" began Nicky, but broke off with a groan and felt his brow again. "Oh, where's the head or tail to this? Where's the _sense?_ . . . Give me my money--that's all I ask.

Stop talkin' all of 'ee, an' fetch me what you've stole, between 'ee, an' leave me alone!"

Mr Pamphlett s.h.i.+fted his ground. "You're right, Nanjivell.

What's become of your money?--that's the main point, eh?"

"O' course 'tis the main point," growled Nicky. "Though I'm d.a.m.ned if I see how it consarns _you_."

"Maybe I can enlighten you by-and-by. For the present you want to know what has become of the money: and I've a strong suspicion this child can tell us, if she chooses to confess. If not--" he raised a minatory forefinger and shook it at 'Beida--"well, it's fortunate I brought the constable, who will know how to act."

"Will I?" said Rat-it-all, scratching his head.

"No, you won't," 'Beida answered him stoutly, and turned again to Nicky-Nan.

"Mr Nanjivell," she pleaded, "tell me--didn't you find these three turnin' your room inside out?"

"'Course I did." Nicky-Nan cast a malignant glance around.

"Was they doin' it with your leave?"

"'Course they wasn't. Why, look at the state o' my head!"

"You cut it yourself, fallin' against the scurtin'-board by the cupboard," put in Builder Gilbert.

'Beida noted his nervousness.

"You say so!" she rapped on him. "Maybe when Mr Nanjivell has you up before Squire Tresawna, you'll all swear to it in league." Again she turned to Nicky. "Struck your head, did you?--fallin' against the cupboard, when they was huntin' for your money: which they can't deny. Did you _want_ Mr Pamphlett to find your money?"

"_Him?_" said Nicky-Nan bitterly. "_Him?_ as I wouldn' trust not ha'f so far as a man could fling him by his eyebrows!"

"Well, _I_'ve got your savin's--'Bert an' me, every bit of it--stowed an' put away where they can't find it, not if they hunted for weeks.

I came upstairs to tell about it, and where we've stowed it. Now be you goin' to put 'Bert and me to prison for that?"

"My dear"--Nicky-Nan spread out his hands--"not if you was a thief an' had really stole it, I wouldn'. But behavin', as you have, like an angel slap out o' Heaven--" He staggered up and confronted Mr Pamphlett. "Here, you clear out o' this!" he threatened, pointing to the door. "You're done, my billies. Tuck your tails atween your legs an' march!"

"A moment, if you please," put in Mr Pamphlett suavely. "You will allow that, not being accustomed to little girls and not knowing therefore how a pert child should properly be chastised and brought to book, I have been uncommonly patient with this one. But you are mistaken, the pair of you, in taking this line with me: and your mistake, though it comes from ignorance of the law, may happen to cost you both pretty dearly." He paused, while Nicky-Nan and 'Beida exchanged glances.

"Don't you heed him," said 'Beida encouragingly. "He's only ga.s.sin'

again." But she faced up for a new attack.

"I have reason to believe," continued Mr Pamphlett, ignoring her and wagging his forefinger at Nicky; "I have evidence going far to convince me that this money of which we are talking is not yours at all: that you never earned it by your own labour, nor inherited it, nor were left it in any legitimate way. In other words, you were just lucky enough to find it."

"What's that to _you?_"

"It concerns me to this extent. By the-common law of England all such money, so discovered, belongs to the Crown: though I understand it is usually shared equally among the Crown, the finder, and the lord of the manor on which it was hidden. Therefore by concealing your knowledge of this money you are illegally defrauding His Majesty, and in fact (if you found it anywhere in Polpier) swindling me, who own the manor rights of Trebursey and Trethake, which together cover every square inch of this town. I bought them from Squire Tresawna these ten years since. And"--he turned upon 'Beida-- "any one who hides, or helps to hide, such money is an accomplice, and may go to prison for it. _Now_ what have you to say?"