Roger Ingleton, Minor - LightNovelsOnl.com
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"Was he at all disturbed while you were there?"
"On the contrary, he was drowsy when I entered and drowsy when I left.
He may possibly have caught sight of Mr Armstrong when he looked in."
"He should not have come near him in his present state. Anything that reminds him of the accident is bad for him."
"Dear, dear, what a pity! No doubt the boy caught sight of him. Tell me, doctor--may I venture up to town for a day or two on important business? If you thought I should stay--"
"No. I hope it's not quite as bad as that; but you should leave word where a message will find you, if necessary. Good day."
"I'm not quite such a fool," growled the doctor to himself as he walked to the stables, "as you think me, my fine fellow. If you were in the room half an hour last night this is all explained. To think that you are the father of that ministering angel, too!"
The captain, in a spirit of subdued cheerfulness, travelled up that afternoon to town. The weather was superb. The country, rich with harvest, looked beautiful. The carriage was unusually comfortable, and the cigars magnificent. Altogether this good man felt that he had much to be thankful for, and quietly wondered within himself whether, on his arrival at the "Langham" Hotel, he should find a telegram from Maxfield already awaiting him.
Instead, he found what pleased him decidedly less, a telegram from Southampton.
"Business keeps me here for a week--arrive London Friday evening.
"Ratman."
The captain expressed himself to himself as greatly annoyed by this simple message, and for the rest of that evening quite lost his natural gaiety.
Next morning, however, not being a man to waste the precious hours, he decided, like a dutiful son of his _alma mater_, to take a little run to Oxford.
He had still in his pocket a certain memorandum, made long ago, of the name of a certain college at that seat of learning, at which, at a certain date, of which he had also a note, a person in whom he felt interested had been a student. Why not improve the occasion by a few inquiries on the spot as to the academical career of that interesting person? It was a brilliant idea, no sooner conceived than executed.
That afternoon, among a crowd of returning undergraduates at --- College, might have been seen the well-dressed military form of a certain gentleman, who politely inquired for the senior tutor.
"I have called sir, on behalf of a friend of mine in India, to inquire respecting a Mr Frank Armstrong, who is, or was a year or two since, an undergraduate here."
"Armstrong, Armstrong?--no man of that name here at present. Ah, I fancy we had a man here of that name some years since."
"Could you conveniently inform me how long it is since he left?"
The tutor referred to his lists.
"He left three years ago. I remember him now--well."
"My friend would be extremely grateful for any information. He has lost sight of him since he was at Oxford."
"Well, the fact is Armstrong was not a particular success here. He was a fairly good scholar, and athlete too, I believe, but his course here ended abruptly."
"Dear, dear! Do you mean to say he was expelled?"
"Hardly so. But he left the place heavily in debt. At the end of his second year he wrote to the authorities to say that the source of supply on which he had depended for paying his college and other bills (which had acc.u.mulated to a very considerable extent) had suddenly ceased, and he was unable to meet his obligations. As he was in dest.i.tution, he could make no suggestion for meeting them, and requested us to accept an undertaking from him to discharge them if possible at a future time.
Under the circ.u.mstances he was informed that he was not to come up again, and his name was struck off the books. I believe that since then a few of his debts have been reduced by small instalments."
"I am very grieved to hear what you tell me. Could you very kindly tell me the address from which he last wrote?"
"If I remember, it was from a coffee-house in London, and he mentioned that he was hoping to obtain employment as a private tutor in a family."
"Well, sir, although this is very disagreeable news for my friend. I am sure he will thank you all the same. I suppose you have no idea, beyond this address in London, what became of him?"
"None."
"Or where he lived before he came to Oxford?"
"I was looking for that. I see the address on the entrance form is 3, Blue Street, London."
Captain Oliphant made a note of the address, and after effusive thanks, said good-bye.
He spent two interesting days in Oxford looking about him and enjoying himself considerably. But although he met several men whose names he knew, and made several new acquaintances, he was unable to hear anything further of the defaulting undergraduate of --- College.
On his return to town, as he had still a day or two to spare, this industrious gentleman, with a good deal of trouble, found out Number 3, Blue Street. For a person of his refined tastes it was in a shockingly low neighbourhood near one of the docks, and Blue Street itself was one of the shadiest--metaphorically--of its streets.
It consisted mainly of slop shops, patronised by the s.h.i.+pping interest, and displaying wares of which one half at least might be safely counted upon as stolen property. Number Three, which for some unexplained reason was located half-way down the street, was an establishment of this sort, very offensive to the nose and not at all agreeable to the eye. Old clothes of every fas.h.i.+on and antiquity hung exposed in the dingy window, while within a still larger a.s.sortment lay piled up on the counter. Nor were the clothes all. Second-hand watches, marlinspikes, compa.s.ses, spoons, books, boxes, and curiosities crowded the narrow s.p.a.ce, in the midst of which the shrivelled old lady who called herself proprietress was scarcely visible.
"Come in--don't be afraid," cried she, as the captain paused doubtfully at the door.
"Is this Number 3, my good woman?"
"Look over the door--'aint you got no eyes?"
"Number 3, Blue Street--this is Blue Street, is it not?"
"If yer doubts it, go and read the name at the end of the street. What do you want? Clothes or money?"
"Neither--I want information," replied the captain.
"Then yer've come to the wrong shop. Don't sell it 'ere, so clear out.
Do you think I don't know what you're arter?"
"Very well," said the captain, "that will be so much saved. I shall have to get for nothing what I meant to pay for."
She looked at him doubtfully and growled.
"Why can't yer say what yer want instead of talking gibberish there?"
"If this is Number 3, Blue Street, and you are the same person who was here five years ago--"
"Go on."
"I may have something to give you from an old lodger; but not till I'm sure you have a right to it."
"What, _him_?"
"Very likely," said the captain, calmly lighting a cigarette. "I shall know if you're right, I dare say."