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He fancied that he heard the red-whiskered man call after him, with joking advice, and he knew that other campers, whom he passed, laughed at his eagerness; but who could tell perhaps he would find gold as well as anybody. The ex-preacher was still there, in his "diggin's," working away. "Hello!" he welcomed, cheerily. "Come in and spell me. I'm tired. There's your dirt, all ready for you."
Ashton himself, the celebrated frame-maker of South Audley Street, came in with a somewhat rough-looking young assistant. Mr. Ashton was a florid, red-whiskered little man, whose admiration for art was considerably tempered by the inveterate impecuniosity of most of the artists who dealt with him. As a rule, he never left his shop. He waited for people to come to him.
Then he turned to the red-whiskered man, and inquired fiercely, why he hadn't put the darbies on the scoundrel. "Never you mind that," was the sharp reply. "I'm responsible for the young gentleman's safe-keeping, and that's enough." "Young gentleman! I am sure the young gentleman ought to be much obliged to you," replied Solomon, contemptuously. "Young felon, you mean."
The conversation had already become general; and under cover of it, I was addressing some tender small talk to my sweetheart when I was aware that at the further end of the table a short red-whiskered man was describing, with much broidery, his encounter with a mad unknown that evening. A few sentences convinced me that he was repeating the incident of half an hour ago.
Tipping, suavely; "I want to see Captain Flower." "Well, you've come to the wrong house," said the red-whiskered man, shortly, "there's no such name here." "Think," said Mrs. Tipping. The red-whiskered man waved the candle to and fro until the passage was flecked with tallow. "Go away directly," he roared; "how dare you come disturbing people like this?"
In the middle of the story he looked round for applause, as professional story-tellers do, caught my eye, and straightway collapsed. There was a moment's awkward silence, and the red-whiskered man muttered something to the effect that he had "forgotten the rest"; thereby sacrificing a reputation as a good story-teller which he had built up for six seasons past.
Raoul shook Prosper's hand, closed the door after him, and hurried up the street, leaving Prosper standing immovable and overcome by disappointment. He was aroused from his gloomy revery by hearing the red-whiskered man say, in a bantering tone: "So these are your friends." "Yes," said Prosper with bitterness. "You heard him offer me half his fortune?"
"Just like myself," said an old red-whiskered sapeur; "or if I ever had parents, they never had the grace to own me. Come over here child, and take share of my dinner." "No, parbleu! I'll have him for my comrade," cried the young hussar. "I was made a corporal yesterday, and have a large ration. Sit here, my boy, and tell us how art called." "Maurice Tierney."
"No, thank 'ee; I'm well lined with flapjacks and sowbelly, to last me till mornin'," replied the red-whiskered man. However, he stayed while the party cleaned up everything that Mr. Adams had cooked. Now it was near the close of twilight; and Charley, fidgeting anxiously, wondered whether he might not try for gold, just once.
Heatherlegh of Simla, volunteered to bear me company as far as our roads lay together. I accepted his offer with gratitude. My instinct had not deceived me. It lay in readiness in the Mall, and, in what seemed devilish mockery of our ways, with a lighted head-lamp. The red-whiskered man went to the point at once, in a manner that showed he had been thinking over it all dinner time.
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