The Lodger (36 page)

  "I'll go down and start getting the lodger's supper
ready for you," said the girl good-naturedly. "He's certain to come
in when he gets hungry. But he did look upset, didn't he, Ellen?
Right down bad - that he did!"

  Mrs. Bunting made no answer; she simply stepped
aside to allow Daisy to go down.

  "Mr. Sleuth won't never come back no more," she said
sombrely, and then she felt both glad and angry at the
extraordinary change which came over her husband's face. Yet,
perversely, that look of relief, of right-down joy, chiefly angered
her, and tempted her to add, "That's to say, I don't suppose he
will."

  And Bunting's face altered again; the old, anxious,
depressed look, the look it had worn the last few days,
returned.

  "What makes you think he mayn't come back?" he
muttered.

  "Too long to tell you now," she said. "Wait till the
child's gone to bed."

  And Bunting had to restrain his curiosity.

  And then, when at last Daisy had gone off to the
back room where she now slept with her stepmother, Mrs. Bunting
beckoned to her husband to follow her upstairs.

  Before doing so he went down the passage and put the
chain on the door. And about this they had a few sharp whispered
words.

  "You're never going to shut him out?" she
expostulated angrily, beneath her breath.

  "I'm not going to leave Daisy down here with that
man perhaps walking in any minute."

  "Mr. Sleuth won't hurt Daisy, bless you! Much more
likely to hurt me," and she gave a half sob.

  Bunting stared at her. "What do you mean?" he said
roughly. "Come upstairs and tell me what you mean."

  And then, in what had been the lodger's
sitting-room, Mrs. Bunting told her husband exactly what it was
that had happened.

  He listened in heavy silence.

  "So you see," she said at last, "you see, Bunting,
that 'twas me that was right after all. The lodger was never
responsible for his actions. I never thought he was, for my
part."

  And Bunting stared at her ruminatingly. "Depends on
what you call responsible - " he began argumentatively.

  But she would have none of that. "I heard the
gentleman say myself that he was a lunatic," she said fiercely. And
then, dropping, her voice, "A religious maniac - that's what he
called him."

  "Well, he never seemed so to me," said Bunting
stoutly. "He simply seemed to me 'centric - that's all he did. Not
a bit madder than many I could tell you of." He was walking round
the room restlessly, but he stopped short at last. "And what d'you
think we ought to do now?"

  Mrs. Bunting shook her head impatiently. "I don't
think we ought to do nothing," she said. "Why should we?"

  And then again he began walking round the room in an
aimless fashion that irritated her.

  "If only I could put out a bit of supper for him
somewhere where he would get it! And his money, too? I hate to feel
it's in there."

  "Don't you make any mistake - he'll come back for
that," said Bunting, with decision.

  But Mrs. Bunting shook her head. She knew better.
"Now," she said, "you go off up to bed. It's no use us sitting up
any longer."

  And Bunting acquiesced.

  She ran down and got him a bedroom candle - there
was no gas in the little back bedroom upstairs. And then she
watched him go slowly up.

  Suddenly he turned and came down again. "Ellen," he
said, in an urgent whisper, "if I was you I'd take the chain off
the door, and I'd lock myself in - that's what I'm going to do.
Then he can sneak in and take his dirty money away.

  Mrs. Bunting neither nodded nor shook her head.
Slowly she went downstairs, and there she carried out half of
Bunting's advice. She took, that is, the chain off the front door.
But she did not go to bed, neither did she lock herself in. She sat
up all night, waiting. At half-past seven she made herself a cup of
tea, and then she went into her bedroom.

  Daisy opened her eyes.

  "Why, Ellen," she said, "I suppose I was that tired,
and slept so sound, that I never heard you come to bed or get up -
funny, wasn't it?"

  "Young people don't sleep as light as do old folk's
Mrs. Bunting said sententiously.

  "Did the lodger come in after all? I suppose he's
upstairs now?"

  Mrs. Bunting shook her head. "It looks as if 'twould
be a fine day for you down at Richmond," she observed in a kindly
tone.

  And Daisy smiled, a very happy, confident little
smile.

***

  That evening Mrs. Bunting forced herself to tell
young Chandler that their lodger had, so to speak, disappeared. She
and Bunting had thought carefully over what they would say, and so
well did they carry out their programme, or, what is more likely,
so full was young Chandler of the long happy day he and Daisy had
spent together, that he took their news very calmly.

  "Gone away, has he?" he observed casually. "Well, I
hope he paid up all right?"

  "Oh, yes, yes," said Mrs. Bunting hastily. "No
trouble of that sort."

  And Bunting said shamefacedly, "Aye, aye, the lodger
was quite an honest gentleman, Joe. But I feel worried, about him.
He was such a poor, gentle chap - not the sort o' man one likes to
think of as wandering about by himself."

  "You always said he was 'centric," said Joe
thoughtfully.

  "Yes, he was that," said Bunting slowly. "Regular
right-down queer. Leetle touched, you know, under the thatch," and,
as he tapped his head significantly, both young people burst out
laughing.

  "Would you like a description of him circulated?"
asked Joe good-naturedly.

  Mr. and Mrs. Bunting looked at one another.

  "No, I don't think so. Not yet awhile at any rate.
'Twould upset him awfully, you see."

  And Joe acquiesced. "You'd be surprised at the
number o' people who disappears and are never heard of again" he
said cheerfully. And then he got up, very reluctantly.

  Daisy, making no bones about it this time, followed
him out into the passage, and shut the sitting-room door behind
her.

  When she came back she walked over to where her
father was sitting in his easy chair, and standing behind him she
put her arms round his neck.

  Then she bent down her head. "Father," she said,
"I've a bit of news for you!"

  "Yes, my dear?"

  "Father, I'm engaged! Aren't you surprised?"

  "Well, what do you think?" said Bunting fondly. Then
he turned round and, catching hold of her head, gave her a good,
hearty kiss.

  "What'll Old Aunt say, I wonder?" he whispered.

  "Don't you worry about Old Aunt," exclaimed his wife
suddenly. "I'll manage Old Aunt! I'll go down and see her. She and
I have always got on pretty comfortable together, as you knows
well, Daisy."

  "Yes," said Daisy a little wonderingly. "I know you
have, Ellen."

***

  Mr. Sleuth never came back, and at last after many
days and many nights had gone by, Mrs. Bunting left off listening
for the click of the lock which she at once hoped and feared would
herald her lodger's return.

  As suddenly and as mysteriously as they had begun
the "Avenger" murders stopped, but there came a morning in the
early spring when a gardener, working in the Regent's Park, found a
newspaper in which was wrapped, together with a half-worn pair of
rubber-soled shoes, a long, peculiarly shaped knife. The fact,
though of considerable interest to the police, was not chronicled
in any newspaper, but about the same time a picturesque little
paragraph went the round of the press concerning a small boxful of
sovereigns which had been anonymously forwarded to the Governors of
the Foundling Hospital.

  Meanwhile Mrs. Bunting had been as good as her word
about "Old Aunt," and that lady had received the wonderful news
concerning Daisy in a more philosophical spirit than her
great-niece had expected her to do. She only observed that it was
odd to reflect that if gentlefolks leave a house in charge of the
police a burglary is pretty sure to follow - a remark which Daisy
resented much more than did her Joe.

  Mr. Bunting and his Ellen are now in the service of
an old lady, by whom they are feared as well as respected, and whom
they make very comfortable.

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ISBN : 1-4121-6653-5