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YOUNG BLOOD
YOUNG BLOOD
BY E. W. HORNUNG " When all the world is young, lad, " And all the trees are green; " And every goose a swan, lad, " And every lass a queen; " Then hey for boot and horse, lad, " And round the world away; " Young blood must have its course, lad, " And every dog his day. " The Water Babies. CASSELL and COMPANY, Limited LONDON, PARIS & MELBOURNE 1898 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED...
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CHAPTER I. THE OLD HOME.
CHAPTER I. THE OLD HOME.
Harry Ringrose came of age on the happiest morning of his life. He was on dry land at last, and flying north at fifty miles an hour instead of at some insignificant and yet precarious number of knots. He would be at home to eat his birthday breakfast after all; and half the night he sat awake in a long ecstasy of grateful retrospect and delicious anticipation, as one by one the familiar stations were hailed and left behind, each an older friend than the last, and each a deadlier enemy to sleep.
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CHAPTER II. THE BREAKING OF THE NEWS.
CHAPTER II. THE BREAKING OF THE NEWS.
Harry was in three minds in as many seconds: he would hide, he would rush out and learn the truth, he would first see who it was that had followed him at such an hour. The last impulse prevailed, and the study was the room from which to peep. Harry crept in on tiptoe, past the bookshelves eloquently bare, to the bow-window with the drawn Venetian blinds. Slightly raising one of the laths, he could see everything as the cab drew up at the steps. The cab-door was flung open and out sprang an utter
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CHAPTER III. THE SIN OF THE FATHER.
CHAPTER III. THE SIN OF THE FATHER.
"It's a lie!" The word flew through Harry's teeth as in another century his sword might have flown from its sheath; and so blind was he with rage and horror that he scarcely appreciated its effect on Gordon Lowndes. Never was gross insult more mildly taken. The elder man did certainly change colour for an instant; in another he had turned away with a shrug, and in yet another he was round again with a sad half-smile. Harry glared at him in a growing terror. He saw that he was forgiven; a blow ha
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CHAPTER IV. THE NEW HOME.
CHAPTER IV. THE NEW HOME.
Harry had hoped that his companion would go his own way when they got to London; but it was "his funeral," as Mr. Lowndes kept saying, and he seemed determined to conduct it to the end. Euston was crowded, where Lowndes behaved like a man in his element, dealing abuse and largesse with equal energy and freedom, and getting Harry and all his boxes off in the first cab which left the station. But he himself was at Harry's side; and there he sat until the cab stopped, half-an-hour later, beneath a
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CHAPTER V. A WET BLANKET.
CHAPTER V. A WET BLANKET.
The morning sun filled the front rooms of the flat, and the heavy hearts within were the lighter for its cheery rays. Sorrow may outlive the night, and small joy come in the morning; but yet, if you are young and sanguine, and the month be May, and the heavens unspotted, and the air nectar, then you may suddenly find yourself thrilling with an unwarrantable delight in mere life, and that in the very midst of life's miseries. It was so with young Harry Ringrose, on the morning following his tragi
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CHAPTER VI. THE GAME OF BLUFF.
CHAPTER VI. THE GAME OF BLUFF.
An inscrutable note reached Harry by the last post that night. It was from Gordon Lowndes, and it ran:— "Leadenhall Street, E.C. "May 20. " Dear Ringrose ,—If you are still of the same mind about a matter which we need not name, let me hear from you by return, and I'll 'inspan' the best detective in the world. He is at present cooling his heels at Scotland Yard, but may be on the job again any day, so why not on ours? "Perhaps you will kindly drop me a line in any case, as I await your instructi
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CHAPTER VII. ON RICHMOND HILL.
CHAPTER VII. ON RICHMOND HILL.
It was the hour before sunset when Harry Ringrose took the train from Earl's Court to Richmond, and, referring to an envelope which Lowndes had given him overnight, inquired his way to Sandringham, Greville Road, Richmond Hill. Having no experience of suburban London, he was prepared to find a mansion not absolutely unworthy of its name, and was rather astonished at having to give that of the road to the policeman who directed him. He had half expected that officer to look impressed and say, "Oh
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CHAPTER VIII. A MILLIONAIRE IN THE MAKING.
CHAPTER VIII. A MILLIONAIRE IN THE MAKING.
There was a bright light in the little drawing-room, and Harry made sure that the master of the house had returned from town. Miss Lowndes put the question as soon as the door was opened, however, and he heard the reply as he followed her within. "No, miss, not yet." "Then who is here?" "Mr. Huxtable." "Mr. Huxtable—in the drawing-room?" "He insisted on waiting, and I thought he might as well wait there as anywhere." Harry thought the man's manner presumptuous, and, looking at him severely, was
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CHAPTER IX. THE CITY OF LONDON.
CHAPTER IX. THE CITY OF LONDON.
It was a considerably abridged version of his visit to Richmond which Mrs. Ringrose received from her son. Gordon Lowndes had indeed given Harry free leave to tell his mother what he liked, but not even to her could the boy bring himself to repeat all that he had seen and heard. He preferred to quote the frank admissions of Lowndes himself, and that with reticence and a definite object. It was Harry's ambition to remove his mother's bitterness against the young woman who had never been to see he
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CHAPTER X. A FIRST OFFENCE.
CHAPTER X. A FIRST OFFENCE.
When Harry Ringrose vowed that he would get something into a magazine within a week, he simply meant that he would write something and get it taken by some editor. But even so he had no conception of the odds against him. Few beginners can turn out acceptable matter at a day's notice, and fewer editors accept within the week. Fortune, however, often favours the fool who rushes in. Harry began wisely by deciding to make his first offering poetical, for verses of kinds he had written for years, an
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CHAPTER XI. BEGGAR AND CHOOSER.
CHAPTER XI. BEGGAR AND CHOOSER.
The one communication which Harry Ringrose had received from Gordon Lowndes was little more than a humorous acknowledgment of the sum refunded to him after the sale of the trophies. The writer warmly protested against the payment of a debt which he himself had never regarded in that light. The worst of it was that he was not in a position to refuse such payment. The prospects of the Highland Crofters' Salmon and Trout Supply Association, Limited, were if anything rosier than ever. But it was an
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CHAPTER XII. THE CHAMPION OF THE GODS.
CHAPTER XII. THE CHAMPION OF THE GODS.
Harry had gathered that another week would decide the fate of the H.C.S. & T.S.A., Ltd., and he could not help feeling anxious as that week drew to its close. Not that he himself had gained much confidence in the mighty scheme in question, for he found it more and more impossible to believe very deeply in Gordon Lowndes or any of his works. Yet he knew now that Lowndes would help him if he could, by fair means or by foul, and he could say the same of no other man. Lowndes was not merely
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CHAPTER XIII. THE DAY OF BATTLE.
CHAPTER XIII. THE DAY OF BATTLE.
It was the following morning that Harry Ringrose received a first return for the many letters he had written in answer to advertisements seen in the Public Library. The advertisement had been for an articled clerk. The clerk was to be articled on really "exceptional terms" (duly specified), and a "public-school boy" was "preferred." It was, in fact, the likeliest advertisement Harry had seen, and its possibilities were not altogether dissipated by the communication now received:— " Dear Sir ,—We
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CHAPTER XIV. A CHANGE OF LUCK.
CHAPTER XIV. A CHANGE OF LUCK.
Quite apart from all that came of it, this visit to Guildford was something of a psychological experience at the time. The devotion of Harry Ringrose to his first school had been for years second only to his love for his old home, and now that the old home was his no longer, the old school was the place he loved best on earth. He knew it when he saw the well-remembered building once more in the golden light of that summer's evening. He knew it when he knelt in the school chapel and heard the mos
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CHAPTER XV. IT NEVER RAINS BUT IT POURS.
CHAPTER XV. IT NEVER RAINS BUT IT POURS.
Not since the incident of the dressing-bag had Harry heard a word of Lowndes. He had no idea what had become of that erratic financier or of his daughter, and as to the former he no longer greatly cared. You may have the knack of carrying others with you, but it is dangerous so to carry them against their own convictions; a reaction is inevitable, and Harry had undergone one against Gordon Lowndes. In the warmth of the moment he had freely forgiven the pawning of his bag, but he found it harder
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CHAPTER XVI. A DAME'S SCHOOL.
CHAPTER XVI. A DAME'S SCHOOL.
The Hollies, Teddington, was situated in a quiet road off the main street. A wooden gate, varnished and grained, displayed a brass plate with Mrs. Bickersteth's name engraved upon it, while that of the house was lettered in black on one of the stucco gate-posts, and perhaps justified by the few evergreens which grew within. A low wall was topped by a sort of balustrade, likewise stuccoed, and behind this wall stood half-a-dozen cropped and yellowing limes. The house itself was hardly what Harry
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CHAPTER XVII. AT FAULT.
CHAPTER XVII. AT FAULT.
Harry had been requested to put on his boots in order to take the elder boys for a walk. He was to keep them out for about an hour and a half, but nothing had been said as to the direction he should take, and he was indiscreet enough to start without seeking definite instruction on the point. "Do you always walk two-and-two?" he asked the boys, as they made for the High Street in this doleful order. "Yes, sir," said two or three. "But we needn't if you give us leave not to," added the younger Wr
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CHAPTER XVIII. MR. SCRAFTON.
CHAPTER XVIII. MR. SCRAFTON.
In the basement was a good-sized but ill-lighted room where three long tables, resting on trestles, were sufficiently crowded on the four days of the week when the day-boys stayed to dinner. On the two half-holidays only one table was in use, and the boarders scarcely filled it, with Miss Maudsley and Mr. Ringrose in state at either end. But on Sundays all meals were in the big schoolroom, and were graced by the presence of Mrs. Bickersteth's City sons, who brought with them a refreshing whiff o
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CHAPTER XIX. ASSAULT AND BATTERY.
CHAPTER XIX. ASSAULT AND BATTERY.
Harry was left alone in the hall. The boys were in the basement, putting on their boots. There were high words in the study, and yet Scrafton seemed to be speaking much below his normal pitch. Harry sauntered into the deserted schoolroom to avoid eavesdropping. And as if in spite of him, the voices rose, and this much reached his ears: "I tell you it will ruin the school!" "Then let me tell you, Mr. Scrafton, that the school is mine, and I have done it with my eyes open." "The son of a common sw
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CHAPTER XX. BIDING HIS TIME.
CHAPTER XX. BIDING HIS TIME.
When Scrafton's knock thundered through the house on the morning after Harry's adventure, Mrs. Bickersteth again rose hastily and bustled from the schoolroom; and for the next five minutes the ears of the junior master had some cause to tingle. When the schoolmistress returned she would not look at Harry, who was well aware that she had secretly wished him to resign, and that conscience alone forbade her to send him away in obedience to Scrafton's demands. That such demands had been made the day
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CHAPTER XXI. HAND TO HAND.
CHAPTER XXI. HAND TO HAND.
It all came of the junior master's clandestine connection with the Tiddler . Harry Ringrose used many precautions in the matter of his little journalistic skeleton. He imagined it safe enough in the locked drawer in which he treasured such copies of the lively periodical as contained his stealthy contributions. But, just as the most cautious criminal is often guilty of the greatest carelessness, so Harry committed one gross blunder every week; and, again like so many malefactors, his own vanity
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CHAPTER XXII. MAN TO MAN.
CHAPTER XXII. MAN TO MAN.
The flat was in utter darkness when Harry arrived between nine and ten. He was disappointed, and yet not surprised. He knew that his mother was to have returned from the sea by this time, but that was all he did know. He found the porter, and asked him how he was redirecting the letters. The man gave Mr. Walthew's address. Harry groaned. "Mrs. Ringrose has never been back since she first went away?" "No, sir." "You have the key of the flat?" "Yes, sir; my wife goes up there every day." "Then get
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CHAPTER XXIII. THE END OF THE BEGINNING.
CHAPTER XXIII. THE END OF THE BEGINNING.
Harry drifted through the fog, the sport of misery and rage. He was a beaten man, and slow as another to own it to himself. Now he swore that he and he alone would unravel the mystery of his father's fate; now the sense of his own impotence appalled him; but at last the bitter fact of his defeat came home to him in all its nakedness. Yes, he had been beaten by a readier and a keener wit, and the most plausible tongue a villain ever wagged. He had been at the mercy of that specious charlatan, tha
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CHAPTER XXIV. YOUNG INK.
CHAPTER XXIV. YOUNG INK.
So it was that Harry Ringrose took finally to his pen towards the close of the most momentous year of his existence; for four years from that date there was but one sort of dramatic interest in his life. There was the dramatic interest of the electric bell; and that was all. In the early days, when the roll of the little steel drum broke a silence or cut short a speech, the eyes of mother and son would meet involuntarily with the same look. Her needles would cease clicking. His pen would spring
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CHAPTER XXV. SCRAFTON'S STORY.
CHAPTER XXV. SCRAFTON'S STORY.
Harry had not heard of him for nearly four years, had not set eyes on him since their scuffle at the school. But only a few days later Leonard Bickersteth had called at the flat with strange news of Scrafton. He had never returned to the Hollies; he had disappeared from his lodgings; it was impossible to trace his whereabouts. The motive of his flight, on the other hand, seemed pretty clear. Mrs. Bickersteth had been questioning the boys, with the result that Harry's charges were sufficiently pr
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CHAPTER XXVI. A MASTERSTROKE.
CHAPTER XXVI. A MASTERSTROKE.
"Well, Ringrose!" Gordon Lowndes did not look a day older since Harry had seen him last. He wore a light cape over his evening dress, a crush-hat on his head, and behind and below the same gold-rimmed glasses there twinkled and trembled the shrewd eyes and the singular sharp-pointed nose. The eyes were as full of friendship as in the earliest days of the intimacy that had come to a violent end nearly four years ago. And they had lost the old furtive look which had inspired vague suspicion from t
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CHAPTER XXVII. RESTITUTION.
CHAPTER XXVII. RESTITUTION.
Shortly after Scrafton's departure, Gordon Lowndes also took his leave. It was not, however, until he had offered Harry his hand with much diffidence, and the younger man had grasped it without a moment's hesitation. At this the other coloured and dropped his eyes, but stood for some moments returning Harry's pressure twofold. "Ringrose," he faltered, "I would give all I'm worth to-night to have told the truth in the beginning. But how could I? I might as well have blown my brains out. I—I tried
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CHAPTER XXVIII. A TALE APART.
CHAPTER XXVIII. A TALE APART.
Harry Ringrose used sometimes to complain of his life from a literary point of view. This piece of ingratitude he was wont to couch in the technical terminology with which his conversation was rather freely garnished. He acknowledged that his "African horse had good legs," as Gordon Lowndes would remind him; it was the later years that set him grumbling. In Harry's opinion they were full of "good stuff," which he longed to "handle"; but the facts were so badly "constructed" (as facts will be) th
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