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Nicky-Nan, then, guessed well enough what had happened. Almost in a flash he had guessed it. He had surprised the Old Doctor's secret, hidden all these years. Folks used to make hoards of their money in the bygone days, when Napoleon threatened to invade us and deposit banks were scarce. And the Doctor, by all that tradition told, was never a man to break a habit once formed.
"No fear," put in 'Bert, proudly exhibiting and flashing a cheap electric torch. "They gave me this at St Martin's and in less than an hour the moon'll be up." "But the paper says there be so many spies about eh, Mr Nanjivell?" "Damme," groaned Nicky-Nan, "I should think there were! Well, if there's military work afoot, at this rate, I'd better clear.
Mr Latter took down the bottle from its shelf and uncorked it, still with an incredulous eye on Nicky-Nan. "I never insisted 'pon your choosin' brandy," said Nicky-Nan, beginning to fumble in his left trouser-pocket. "You can make it beer if you wish, but I said 'brandy. If you have no " He ended on a sharp outcry, as of physical pain. For a dire accident had happened.
"Hullo, naybour!" he shouted, perceiving Nicky-Nan. "Well, now, I count this real friendly of ye, to come an' give me the send-off." And indeed Nicky's presence seemed to be a sensible relief to him. "Haven't ate all the eggs, I hope?
But I wonder at you liggin' behind, when 'tis the only Bank Holiday randivoo this side o' Troy. . . ." "'Tidn' for want o' will," Nicky-Nan answered ruefully and truthfully, with a downward glance, which reminded Mrs Penhaligon to be remorseful. "Eh, but I forgot . . . and you with that leg on your mind! But you'll forgive a body as has been these two days in a stirabout.
He made more than a dozen brave attempts to resume his old occupation. But in the smallest lop of a sea he was useless, so that it became dangerous to take him. Month by month he fell further back in arrears of rent. And now the end seemed to have arrived with Mr Pamphlett's notice of ejectment. Nicky-Nan, of course, held that Mr Pamphlett had a personal grudge against him.
He had a plan of the proposed new building, with a fine stucco frontage and edgings of terra-cotta. Mr Pamphlett saw his way to make this improvement, and was quite resolute about it; and Nicky-Nan, by his earlier reception of notices to quit, had not bettered any chance of resisting.
Just about seven o'clock next morning Nicky-Nan, who had breakfasted early and taken post early in the porchway to watch against any possible ruse of the foe for, Bank Holiday or no Bank Holiday, he was taking no risks spied Lippity-Libby the postman coming over the bridge towards him with his dot-and-go-one gait. Lippity-Libby, drawing near, held out a letter in his hand and flourished it.
But, as fate would have it, she had scarcely reached the porch of the Old Doctor's house when Nicky-Nan himself emerged from it: and at the sight of him her fatal curiosity triumphed. "Mr Nanjivell!" she called. Nicky-Nan turned about. "Good mornin', Miss. Was that you a-callin'?" Having yielded to her impulse, Miss Oliver suddenly found herself at a loss how to proceed.
Once, in cleaning out the cupboards, Nicky-Nan had discovered in the right-hand one that one or two boards of the flooring were loose. Lifting them cautiously he had peered into a sort of lazarette deep down in the wall, and had lowered a candle, the flame of which, catching hold of a mass of dried cobweb, had shot up and singed his eyebrows, for a moment threatening to set the house on fire.
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