CHAPTER LXXI.

JOHN CRUMB FALLS INTO TROUBLE.

It was on a Friday evening, an inauspicious Friday, that poor Ruby

Ruggles had insisted on leaving the security of her Aunt Pipkin's

house with her aristocratic and vicious lover, in spite of the

positive assurance made to her by Mrs. Pipkin that if she went forth

in such company she should not be allowed to return. "Of course

you must let her in," Mrs. Hurtle had said soon after the girl's

departure. Whereupon Mrs. Pipkin had cried. She knew her own softness

too well to suppose it to be possible that she could keep the girl

out in the streets all night; but yet it was hard upon her, very

hard, that she should be so troubled. "We usen't to have our ways

like that when I was young," she said, sobbing. What was to be the

end of it? Was she to be forced by circumstances to keep the girl

always there, let the girl's conduct be what it might? Nevertheless

she acknowledged that Ruby must be let in when she came back. Then,

about nine o'clock, John Crumb came; and the latter part of the

evening was more melancholy even than the first. It was impossible to

conceal the truth from John Crumb. Mrs. Hurtle saw the poor man and

told the story in Mrs. Pipkin's presence.

"She's headstrong, Mr. Crumb," said Mrs. Hurtle.

"She is that, ma'am. And it was along wi' the baro-nite she went?"

"It was so, Mr. Crumb."

"Baro-nite! Well;--perhaps I shall catch him some of these

days;--went to dinner wi' him, did she? Didn't she have no dinner

here?"

Then Mrs. Pipkin spoke up with a keen sense of offence. Ruby Ruggles

had had as wholesome a dinner as any young woman in London,--a

bullock's heart and potatoes,--just as much as ever she had pleased

to eat of it. Mrs. Pipkin could tell Mr. Crumb that there was "no

starvation nor yet no stint in her house." John Crumb immediately

produced a very thick and admirably useful blue cloth cloak, which

he had brought up with him to London from Bungay, as a present to

the woman who had been good to his Ruby. He assured her that he did

not doubt that her victuals were good and plentiful, and went on to

say that he had made bold to bring her a trifle out of respect. It

was some little time before Mrs. Pipkin would allow herself to be

appeased;--but at last she permitted the garment to be placed on her

shoulders. But it was done after a melancholy fashion. There was no

smiling consciousness of the bestowal of joy on the countenance of

the donor as he gave it, no exuberance of thanks from the recipient

as she received it. Mrs. Hurtle, standing by, declared it to be

perfect;--but the occasion was one which admitted of no delight.

"It's very good of you, Mr. Crumb, to think of an old woman like

me,--particularly when you've such a deal of trouble with a young

'un."

"It's like the smut in the wheat, Mrs. Pipkin, or the d'sease in the

'tatoes;--it has to be put up with, I suppose. Is she very partial,

ma'am, to that young baro-nite?" This question was asked of Mrs.

Hurtle.

"Just a fancy for the time, Mr. Crumb," said the lady.

"They never thinks as how their fancies may well-nigh half kill a

man!" Then he was silent for awhile, sitting back in his chair, not

moving a limb, with his eyes fastened on Mrs. Pipkin's ceiling.

Mrs. Hurtle had some work in her hand, and sat watching him. The

man was to her an extraordinary being,--so constant, so slow, so

unexpressive, so unlike her own countrymen,--willing to endure so

much, and at the same time so warm in his affections! "Sir Felix

Carbury!" he said. "I'll Sir Felix him some of these days. If it was

only dinner, wouldn't she be back afore this, ma'am?"

"I suppose they've gone to some place of amusement," said Mrs.

Hurtle.

"Like enough," said John Crumb in a low voice.

"She's that mad after dancing as never was," said Mrs. Pipkin.

"And where is it as 'em dances?" asked Crumb, getting up from his

chair, and stretching himself. It was evident to both the ladies that

he was beginning to think that he would follow Ruby to the music

hall. Neither of them answered him, however, and then he sat down

again. "Does 'em dance all night at them places, Mrs. Pipkin?"

"They do pretty nearly all that they oughtn't to do," said Mrs.

Pipkin. John Crumb raised one of his fists, brought it down heavily

on the palm of his other hand, and then again sat silent for awhile.

"I never knowed as she was fond o' dancing," he said. "I'd a had

dancing for her down at Bungay,--just as ready as anything. D'ye

think, ma'am, it's the dancing she's after, or the baro-nite?" This

was another appeal to Mrs. Hurtle.

"I suppose they go together," said the lady.

Then there was another long pause, at the end of which poor John

Crumb burst out with some violence. "Domn him! Domn him! What 'ad

I ever dun to him? Nothing! Did I ever interfere wi' him? Never! But

I wull. I wull. I wouldn't wonder but I'll swing for this at Bury!"

"Oh, Mr. Crumb, don't talk like that," said Mrs. Pipkin.

"Mr. Crumb is a little disturbed, but he'll get over it presently,"

said Mrs. Hurtle.

"She's a nasty slut to go and treat a young man as she's treating

you," said Mrs. Pipkin.

"No, ma'am;--she ain't nasty," said the lover. "But she's

crou'll--horrid crou'll. It's no more use my going down about meal

and pollard, nor business, and she up here with that baro-nite,--no,

no more nor nothin'! When I handles it I don't know whether its

middlings nor nothin' else. If I was to twist his neck, ma'am, would

you take it on yourself to say as I was wrong?"

"I'd sooner hear that you had taken the girl away from him," said

Mrs. Hurtle.

"I could pretty well eat him,--that's what I could. Half past eleven;

is it? She must come some time, mustn't she?" Mrs. Pipkin, who did

not want to burn candles all night long, declared that she could give

no assurance on that head. If Ruby did come, she should, on that

night, be admitted. But Mrs. Pipkin thought that it would be better

to get up and let her in than to sit up for her. Poor Mr. Crumb did

not at once take the hint, and remained there for another half-hour,

saying little, but waiting with the hope that Ruby might come. But

when the clock struck twelve he was told that he must go. Then he

slowly collected his limbs and dragged them out of the house.

"That young man is a good fellow," said Mrs. Hurtle as soon as the

door was closed.

"A deal too good for Ruby Ruggles," said Mrs. Pipkin. "And he can

maintain a wife. Mr. Carbury says as he's as well to do as any

tradesman down in them parts."

Mrs. Hurtle disliked the name of Mr. Carbury, and took this last

statement as no evidence in John Crumb's favour. "I don't know that

I think better of the man for having Mr. Carbury's friendship," she

said.

"Mr. Carbury ain't any way like his cousin, Mrs. Hurtle."

"I don't think much of any of the Carburys, Mrs. Pipkin. It seems

to me that everybody here is either too humble or too overbearing.

Nobody seems content to stand firm on his own footing and interfere

with nobody else." This was all Greek to poor Mrs. Pipkin. "I suppose

we may as well go to bed now. When that girl comes and knocks, of

course we must let her in. If I hear her, I'll go down and open the

door for her."

Mrs. Pipkin made very many apologies to her lodger for the condition

of her household. She would remain up herself to answer the door at

the first sound, so that Mrs. Hurtle should not be disturbed. She

would do her best to prevent any further annoyance. She trusted Mrs.

Hurtle would see that she was endeavouring to do her duty by the

naughty wicked girl. And then she came round to the point of her

discourse. She hoped that Mrs. Hurtle would not be induced to quit

the rooms by these disagreeable occurrences. "I don't mind saying it

now, Mrs. Hurtle, but your being here is ever so much to me. I ain't

nothing to depend on,--only lodgers, and them as is any good is so

hard to get!" The poor woman hardly understood Mrs. Hurtle, who, as

a lodger, was certainly peculiar. She cared nothing for disturbances,

and rather liked than otherwise the task of endeavouring to assist

in the salvation of Ruby. Mrs. Hurtle begged that Mrs. Pipkin would

go to bed. She would not be in the least annoyed by the knocking.

Another half-hour had thus been passed by the two ladies in the

parlour after Crumb's departure. Then Mrs. Hurtle took her candle and

had ascended the stairs half way to her own sitting-room, when a loud

double knock was heard. She immediately joined Mrs. Pipkin in the

passage. The door was opened, and there stood Ruby Ruggles, John

Crumb, and two policemen! Ruby rushed in, and casting herself on

to one of the stairs began to throw her hands about, and to howl

piteously. "Laws a mercy; what is it?" asked Mrs. Pipkin.

"He's been and murdered him!" screamed Ruby. "He has! He's been and

murdered him!"

"This young woman is living here;--is she?" asked one of the

policemen.

"She is living here," said Mrs. Hurtle. But now we must go back to

the adventures of John Crumb after he had left the house.

He had taken a bedroom at a small inn close to the Eastern Counties

Railway Station which he was accustomed to frequent when business

brought him up to London, and thither he proposed to himself to

return. At one time there had come upon him an idea that he would

endeavour to seek Ruby and his enemy among the dancing saloons of

the metropolis; and he had asked a question with that view. But no

answer had been given which seemed to aid him in his project, and his

purpose had been abandoned as being too complex and requiring more

intelligence than he gave himself credit for possessing. So he had

turned down a street with which he was so far acquainted as to know

that it would take him to the Islington Angel,--where various roads

meet, and whence he would know his way eastwards. He had just passed

the Angel, and the end of Goswell Road, and was standing with his

mouth open, looking about, trying to make certain of himself that he

would not go wrong, thinking that he would ask a policeman whom he

saw, and hesitating because he feared that the man would want to know

his business. Then, of a sudden, he heard a woman scream, and knew

that it was Ruby's voice. The sound was very near him, but in the

glimmer of the gaslight he could not quite see whence it came. He

stood still, putting his hand up to scratch his head under his

hat,--trying to think what, in such an emergency, it would be well

that he should do. Then he heard the voice distinctly, "I won't;--I

won't," and after that a scream. Then there were further words. "It's

no good--I won't." At last he was able to make up his mind. He rushed

after the sound, and turning down a passage to the right which led

back into Goswell Road, saw Ruby struggling in a man's arms. She had

left the dancing establishment with her lover; and when they had come

to the turn of the passage, there had arisen a question as to her

further destiny for the night. Ruby, though she well remembered Mrs.

Pipkin's threats, was minded to try her chance at her aunt's door.

Sir Felix was of opinion that he could make a preferable arrangement

for her; and as Ruby was not at once amenable to his arguments he had

thought that a little gentle force might avail him. He had therefore

dragged Ruby into the passage. The unfortunate one! That so ill a

chance should have come upon him in the midst of his diversion! He

had swallowed several tumblers of brandy and water, and was therefore

brave with reference to that interference of the police, the fear

of which might otherwise have induced him to relinquish his hold of

Ruby's arm when she first raised her voice. But what amount of brandy

and water would have enabled him to persevere, could he have dreamed

that John Crumb was near him? On a sudden he found a hand on his

coat, and he was swung violently away, and brought with his back

against the railings so forcibly as to have the breath almost knocked

out of his body. But he could hear Ruby's exclamation, "If it isn't

John Crumb!" Then there came upon him a sense of coming destruction,

as though the world for him were all over; and, collapsing throughout

his limbs, he slunk down upon the ground.

"Get up, you wiper," said John Crumb. But the baronet thought it

better to cling to the ground. "You sholl get up," said John, taking

him by the collar of his coat and lifting him. "Now, Ruby, he's

a-going to have it," said John. Whereupon Ruby screamed at the top

of her voice, with a shriek very much louder than that which had at

first attracted John Crumb's notice.

[Illustration: "Get up, you wiper."]

"Don't hit a man when he's down," said the baronet, pleading as

though for his life.

"I wunt," said John;--"but I'll hit a fellow when 'un's up."

Sir Felix was little more than a child in the man's arms. John

Crumb raised him, and catching him round the neck with his left

arm,--getting his head into chancery as we used to say when we fought

at school,--struck the poor wretch some half-dozen times violently

in the face, not knowing or caring exactly where he hit him, but at

every blow obliterating a feature. And he would have continued had

not Ruby flown at him and rescued Sir Felix from his arms. "He's

about got enough of it," said John Crumb as he gave over his work.

Then Sir Felix fell again to the ground, moaning fearfully. "I know'd

he'd have to have it," said John Crumb.

Ruby's screams of course brought the police, one arriving from each

end of the passage on the scene of action at the same time. And now

the cruellest thing of all was that Ruby in the complaints which she

made to the policemen said not a word against Sir Felix, but was

as bitter as she knew how to be in her denunciations of John Crumb.

It was in vain that John endeavoured to make the man understand

that the young woman had been crying out for protection when he had

interfered. Ruby was very quick of speech and John Crumb was very

slow. Ruby swore that nothing so horrible, so cruel, so bloodthirsty

had ever been done before. Sir Felix himself when appealed to could

say nothing. He could only moan and make futile efforts to wipe away

the stream of blood from his face when the men stood him up leaning

against the railings. And John, though he endeavoured to make the

policemen comprehend the extent of the wickedness of the young

baronet, would not say a word against Ruby. He was not even in the

least angered by her denunciations of himself. As he himself said

sometimes afterwards, he had "dropped into the baro-nite" just in

time, and, having been successful in this, felt no wrath against Ruby

for having made such an operation necessary.

There was soon a third policeman on the spot, and a dozen other

persons,--cab-drivers, haunters of the street by night, and houseless

wanderers, casuals who at this season of the year preferred the

pavements to the poor-house wards. They all took part against John

Crumb. Why had the big man interfered between the young woman and her

young man? Two or three of them wiped Sir Felix's face, and dabbed

his eyes, and proposed this and the other remedy. Some thought that

he had better be taken straight to an hospital. One lady remarked

that he was "so mashed and mauled" that she was sure he would never

"come to" again. A precocious youth remarked that he was "all one

as a dead 'un." A cabman observed that he had "'ad it awful 'eavy."

To all these criticisms on his condition Sir Felix himself made

no direct reply, but he intimated his desire to be carried away

somewhere, though he did not much care whither.

At last the policemen among them decided upon a course of action.

They had learned by the united testimony of Ruby and Crumb that Sir

Felix was Sir Felix. He was to be carried in a cab by one constable

to Bartholomew Hospital, who would then take his address so that he

might be produced and bound over to prosecute. Ruby should be even

conducted to the address she gave,--not half a mile from the spot

on which they now stood,--and be left there or not according to the

account which might be given of her. John Crumb must be undoubtedly

locked up in the station-house. He was the offender;--for aught that

any of them yet knew, the murderer. No one said a good word for

him. He hardly said a good word for himself, and certainly made no

objection to the treatment that had been proposed for him. But,

no doubt, he was buoyed up inwardly by the conviction that he had

thoroughly thrashed his enemy.

Thus it came to pass that the two policemen with John Crumb and

Ruby came together to Mrs. Pipkin's door. Ruby was still loud with

complaints against the ruffian who had beaten her lover,--who,

perhaps, had killed her loved one. She threatened the gallows, and

handcuffs, and perpetual imprisonment, and an action for damages

amidst her lamentations. But from Mrs. Hurtle the policemen did

manage to learn something of the truth. Oh yes;--the girl lived

there and was--respectable. This man whom they had arrested was

respectable also, and was the girl's proper lover. The other man who

had been beaten was undoubtedly the owner of a title; but he was not

respectable, and was only the girl's improper lover. And John Crumb's

name was given. "I'm John Crumb of Bungay," said he, "and I ain't

afeared of nothin' nor nobody. And I ain't a been a drinking; no, I

ain't. Mauled 'un! In course I've mauled 'un. And I meaned it. That

ere young woman is engaged to be my wife."

"No, I ain't," shouted Ruby.

"But she is," persisted John Crumb.

"Well then, I never will," rejoined Ruby.

John Crumb turned upon her a look of love, and put his hand on his

heart. Whereupon the senior policeman said that he saw at a glance

how it all was, but that Mr. Crumb had better come along with

him,--just for the present. To this arrangement the unfortunate hero

from Bungay made not the slightest objection.

"Miss Ruggles," said Mrs. Hurtle, "if that young man doesn't conquer

you at last you can't have a heart in your bosom."

"Indeed and I have then, and I don't mean to give it him if it's ever

so. He's been and killed Sir Felix." Mrs. Hurtle in a whisper to Mrs.

Pipkin expressed a wicked wish that it might be so. After that the

three women all went to bed.