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Better than one could have looked for." Hilliard related the circumstances. Then he drew from his pocket an oblong slip of paper, and held it out. "Dengate?" cried his friend. "How the deuce did you get hold of this?" Explanation followed. They debated Dengate's character and motives. "I can understand it," said Narramore.
"Yes, of course," said the doctor, "and very proper." "But what I holds is, sir, and my man too says is, that there ain't a bit o' danger in any on 'em, though if there was nobody ought to complain." "Well, there I don't agree with you, Dengate," said the doctor haughtily, as Dexter came and stood by him, having grown deeply interested. "Don't you, sir?
But a man of my position doesn't care to get mixed up in a street row. It wouldn't sound well at Liverpool. Stand quiet, will you!" A man and a woman drew near, and lingered for a moment in curiosity. Hilliard already amazed at what he had done, became passive, and stood with bent head. "I must have a word or two With you," said Dengate, when he had picked up his hat. "Can you walk straight?
"So you've turned out a blackguard, have you?" pursued his companion, whose name was Dengate. "I heard something about that." "From whom?" "You drink, I am told. I suppose that's your condition now." "Well, no; not just now," answered Hilliard. He spoke the language of an educated man, but with a trace of the Midland accent. Dengate's speech had less refinement.
I could have put you in the way of something good at Liverpool. Now, I'd see you damned first, Well, have you run through the money?" "Every penny of it gone in drink." "And what are you doing?" "Walking with a man I should be glad to be rid of." "All right. Here's my card. When you get into the gutter, and nobody'll give you a hand out, let me know." With a nod, Dengate walked off.
"There's no reason why you shouldn't be told," added Dengate; "it was a friend of yours at Dudley that I came across when I was making inquiries about you: Mullen his name was." A clerk at the ironworks, with whom Hilliard had been on terms of slight intimacy. "Oh, that fellow," he uttered carelessly. "I'm glad to know it was no one else. Why did you go inquiring about me?" "I told you.
"It was because I understood it already that I called you a scoundrel." "Now be careful, my lad," exclaimed Dengate, as again he winced under the epithet. "My temper may get the better of me, and I should be sorry for it. I've been told you drink, and I see that you do, and I'm sorry for it. You'll be losing your place before long, and you'll go down.
Then there was another burst of wiping on the mat by the study door as a finish off, a loud muttering of instructions to Maria, and the door was opened to admit the butcher, looking hot and red, with his hat in one hand, a glaring orange handkerchief in the other, with which he dabbed himself from time to time. "Good morning, Dengate," said the doctor; "what can I do for you?"
Took it all away and give it to Mossetts, because he said the mutton was woolly, when I give you my word, sir, that it was as good a bit o' mutton as I ever killed." "Yes, yes, Dengate, but what has all this to do with me?" said the doctor testily. "Well, sir, begging your pardon, only this: your young lady and young gentleman was there, and I want to know the rights of it all.
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