'I can do anything. I didn't realise it before, but I can. I've done a great deal already. Resolution shall be treated to one kiss if Bessie doesn't object.' Strangely enough, Bessie objected and **** laughed. 'I suppose you're right. Well, come at nine the day after to-morrow and you'll get your money.'
'Shall I sure?'
'I don't bilk, and you won't know whether I do or not unless you come.
Oh, but it's long and long to wait! Good-bye, Bessie,--send Beeton here as you go out.'
The housekeeper came.
'What are all the fittings of my rooms worth?' said ****, imperiously.
''Tisn't for me to say, sir. Some things is very pretty and some is wore out dreadful.'
'I'm insured for two hundred and seventy.'
'Insurance policies is no criterion, though I don't say----'
'Oh, damn your longwindedness! You've made your pickings out of me and the other tenants. Why, you talked of retiring and buying a public-house the other day. Give a straight answer to a straight question.'
'Fifty,' said Mr. Beeton, without a moment's hesitation.
'Double it; or I'll break up half my sticks and burn the rest.'
He felt his way to a bookstand that supported a pile of sketch-books, and wrenched out one of the mahogany pillars.
'That's sinful, sir,' said the housekeeper, alarmed.
'It's my own. One hundred or----'
'One hundred it is. It'll cost me three and six to get that there pilaster mended.'
'I thought so. What an out and out swindler you must have been to spring that price at once!'
'I hope I've done nothing to dissatisfy any of the tenants, least of all you, sir.'
'Never mind that. Get me the money to-morrow, and see that all my clothes are packed in the little brown bullock-trunk. I'm going.'
'But the quarter's notice?'
'I'll pay forfeit. Look after the packing and leave me alone.'
Mr. Beeton discussed this new departure with his wife, who decided that Bessie was at the bottom of it all. Her husband took a more charitable view.
'It's very sudden--but then he was always sudden in his ways. Listen to him now!'
There was a sound of chanting from ****'s room.
'We'll never come back any more, boys, We'll never come back no more;We'll go to the deuce on any excuse, And never come back no more!?
Oh say we're afloat or ashore, boys, Oh say we're afloat or ashore;But we'll never come back any more, boys, We'll never come back no more!'?
'Mr. Beeton! Mr. Beeton! Where the deuce is my pistol?'
'Quick, he's going to shoot himself--'avin' gone mad!' said Mrs. Beeton.
Mr. Beeton addressed **** soothingly, but it was some time before the latter, threshing up and down his bedroom, could realise the intention of the promises to 'find everything to-morrow, sir.'
'Oh, you copper-nosed old fool--you impotent Academician!' he shouted at last. 'Do you suppose I want to shoot myself? Take the pistol in your silly shaking hand then. If you touch it, it will go off, because it's loaded.
It's among my campaign-kit somewhere--in the parcel at the bottom of the trunk.'
