the wheels of chance-第12章

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d　hair　coming　out　of　curl。　Your　draper's　assistant　becomes　something　of　a　judge　of　weeping；　because　weeping　is　the　custom　of　all　Young　Ladies　in　Business；　when　for　any　reason　their　services　are　dispensed　with。　She　could　weepand　（by　Gosh！）　she　could　smile。　HE　knew　that；　and　reverting　to　acting　abruptly；　he　smiled　confidentially　at　the　puckered　pallor　of　the　moon。

It　is　difficult　to　say　how　long　Mr。　Hoopdriver's　pensiveness　lasted。　It　seemed　a　long　time　before　his　thoughts　of　action　returned。　Then　he　remembered　he　was　a　'watcher'；　that　to…morrow　he　must　be　busy。　It　would　be　in　character　to　make　notes；　and　he　pulled　out　his　little　note…book。　With　that　in　hand　he　fell　a…thinking　again。　Would　that　chap　tell　her　the　'tecks　were　after　them？　If　so；　would　she　be　as　anxious　to　get　away　as　HE　was？　He　must　be　on　the　alert。　If　possible　he　must　speak　to　her。　Just　a　significant　word；　〃Your　friendtrust　me！〃It　occurred　to　him　that　to…morrow　these　fugitives　might　rise　early　to　escape。　At　that　he　thought　of　the　time　and　found　it　was　half…past　eleven。　〃Lord！〃　said　he；　〃I　must　see　that　I　wake。〃　He　yawned　and　rose。　The　blind　was　up；　and　he　pulled　back　the　little　chintz　curtains　to　let　the　sunlight　strike　across　to　the　bed；　hung　his　watch　within　good　view　of　his　pillow；　on　a　nail　that　supported　a　kettle…holder；　and　sat　down　on　his　bed　to　undress。　He　lay　awake　for　a　little　while　thinking　of　the　wonderful　possibilities　of　the　morrow；　and　thence　he　passed　gloriously　into　the　wonderland　of　dreams。



THE　PURSUIT

XX

And　now　to　tell　of　Mr。　Hoopdriver；　rising　with　the　sun；　vigilant；　active；　wonderful；　the　practicable　half　of　the　lead…framed　window　stuck　open；　ears　alert；　an　eye　flickering　incessantly　in　the　corner　panes；　in　oblique　glances　at　the　Angel　front。　Mrs。　Wardor　wanted　him　to　have　his　breakfast　downstairs　in　her　kitchen；　but　that　would　have　meant　abandoning　the　watch；　and　he　held　out　strongly。　The　bicycle；　cap…a…pie；　occupied；　under　protest；　a　strategic　position　in　the　shop。　He　was　expectant　by　six　in　the　morning。　By　nine　horrible　fears　oppressed　him　that　his　quest　had　escaped　him；　and　he　had　to　reconnoitre　the　Angel　yard　in　order　to　satisfy　himself。　There　he　found　the　ostler　（How　are　the　mighty　fallen　in　these　decadent　days！）　brushing　down　the　bicycles　of　the　chase；　and　he　returned　relieved　to　Mrs。　Wardor's　premises。　And　about　ten　they　emerged；　and　rode　quietly　up　the　North　Street。　He　watched　them　until　they　turned　the　corner　of　the　post　office；　and　then　out　into　the　road　and　up　after　them　in　fine　style！　They　went　by　the　engine…house　where　the　old　stocks　and　the　whipping　posts　are；　and　on　to　the　Chichester　road；　and　he　followed　gallantly。　So　this　great　chase　began。

They　did　not　look　round；　and　he　kept　them　just　within　sight；　getting　down　if　he　chanced　to　draw　closely　upon　them　round　a　corner。　By　riding　vigorously　he　kept　quite　conveniently　near　them；　for　they　made　but　little　hurry。　He　grew　hot　indeed；　and　his　knees　were　a　little　stiff　to　begin　with；　but　that　was　all。　There　was　little　danger　of　losing　them；　for　a　thin　chalky　dust　lay　upon　the　road；　and　the　track　of　her　tire　was　milled　like　a　shilling；　and　his　was　a　chequered　ribbon　along　the　way。　So　they　rode　by　Cobden's　monument　and　through　the　prettiest　of　villages；　until　at　last　the　downs　rose　steeply　ahead。　There　they　stopped　awhile　at　the　only　inn　in　the　place；　and　Mr。　Hoopdriver　took　up　a　position　which　commanded　the　inn　door；　and　mopped　his　face　and　thirsted　and　smoked　a　Red　Herring　cigarette。　They　remained　in　the　inn　for　some　time。　A　number　of　chubby　innocents　returning　home　from　school；　stopped　and　formed　a　line　in　front　of　him；　and　watched　him　quietly　but　firmly　for　the　space　of　ten　minutes　or　so。　〃Go　away；〃　said　he；　and　they　only　seemed　quietly　interested。　He　asked　them　all　their　names　then；　and　they　answered　indistinct　murmurs。　He　gave　it　up　at　last　and　became　passive　on　his　gate；　and　so　at　length　they　tired　of　him。

The　couple　under　observation　occupied　the　inn　so　long　that　Mr。　Hoopdriver　at　the　thought　of　their　possible　employment　hungered　as　well　as　thirsted。　Clearly；　they　were　lunching。　It　was　a　cloudless　day；　and　the　sun　at　the　meridian　beat　down　upon　the　top　of　Mr。　Hoopdriver's　head；　a　shower　bath　of　sunshine；　a　huge　jet　of　hot　light。　It　made　his　head　swim。　At　last　they　emerged；　and　the　other　man　in　brown　looked　back　and　saw　him。　They　rode　on　to　the　foot　of　the　down；　and　dismounting　began　to　push　tediously　up　that　long　nearly　vertical　ascent　of　blinding　white　road；　Mr。　Hoopdriver　hesitated。　It　might　take　them　twenty　minutes　to　mount　that。　Beyond　was　empty　downland　perhaps　for　miles。　He　decided　to　return　to　the　inn　and　snatch　a　hasty　meal。

At　the　inn　they　gave　him　biscuits　and　cheese　and　a　misleading　pewter　measure　of　sturdy　ale；　pleasant　under　the　palate；　cool　in　the　throat；　but　leaden　in　the　legs；　of　a　hot　afternoon。　He　felt　a　man　of　substance　as　he　emerged　in　the　blinding　sunshine；　but　even　by　the　foot　of　the　down　the　sun　was　insisting　again　that　his　skull　was　too　small　for　his　brains。　The　hill　had　gone　steeper；　the　chalky　road　blazed　like　a　magnesium　light；　and　his　front　wheel　began　an　apparently　incurable　squeaking。　He　felt　as　a　man　from　Mars　would　feel　if　he　were　suddenly　transferred　to　this　planet；　about　three　times　as　heavy　as　he　was　wont　to　feel。　The　two　little　black　figures　had　vanished　over　the　forehead　of　the　hill。　〃The　tracks'll　be　all　right；〃　said　Mr。　Hoopdriver。

That　was　a　comforting　reflection。　It　not　only　justified　a　slow　progress　up　the　hill；　but　at　the　crest　a　sprawl　on　the　turf　beside　the　road；　to　contemplate　the　Weald　from　the　south。　In　a　matter　of　two　days　he　had　crossed　that　spacious　valley；　with　its　frozen　surge　of　green　hills；　its　little　villages　and　townships　here　and　there；　its　copses　and　cornfields；　its　ponds　and　streams　like　jewelery　of　diamonds　and　silver　glittering　in　the　sun。　The　North　Downs　were　hidden；　far　away　beyond　the　Wealden　Heights。　Down　below　was　the　little　village　of　Cocking；　and　half…way　up　the　hill；　a　mile　perhaps　to　the　right；　hung　a　flock　of　sheep　grazing　together。　Overhead　an　anxious　peewit　circled　against　the　blue；　and　every　now　and　then　emitted　its　feeble　cry。　Up　here　the　heat　was　tempered　by　a　pleasant　breeze。　Mr。　Hoopdriver　was　possessed　by　unreasonable　contentment；　he　lit　himself　a　cigarette　and　lounged　more　comfortably。　Surely　the　Sussex　ale　is　made　of　the　waters　of　Lethe；　of　poppies　and　pleasant　dreams。　Drowsiness　coiled　insidiously　about　him。

He　awoke　with　a　guilty　start；　to　find　himself　sprawling　prone　on　the　turf　with　his　cap　over　one　eye。　He　sat　up；　rubbed　his　eyes；　and　realised　that　he　had　slept。　His　head　was　still　a　trifle　heavy。　And　the　chase？　He　jumped　to　his　feet　and　stooped　to　pick。　up　his　overturned　machine。　He　whipped　out　his　watch　and　saw　that　it　was　past　two　o'clock。　〃Lord　love　us；　fancy　that！But　the　tracks'll　be　all　right；〃　said　Mr。　Hoopdriver；　wheeling　his　machine　back　to　the　chalky　road。　〃I　must　scorch　till　I　overtake　them。〃

He　mounted　and　rode　as　rapidly　as　the　heat　and　a　lingering　lassitude　permitted。　Now　and　then　he　had　to　dismount　to　examine　the　surface　where　the　road　forked。　He　enjoyed　that　rather。　〃Trackin'；〃　he　said　aloud；　and　decided　in　the　privacy　of　his　own　mind　that　he　had　a　wonderful　instinct　for　'spoor。'　So　he　came　past　Goodwood　station　and　Lavant；　and　approached　Chichester　towards　four　o'clock。　And　then　came　a　terrible　thing。　In　places　the　road　became　hard；　in　places　were　the　crowded　indentations　of　a　recent　flock　of　sheep；　and　at　last　in　the　throat　of　the　town　cobbles　and　the　stony　streets　branching　east；　west；　north；　and　south；　at　a　stone　cross　under　the　shadow　of　the　cathedral　the　tracks　vanished。　〃O　Cricky！〃　said　Mr。　Hoopdriver；　dismounting　in　dismay　and　standing　agape。　〃Dropped　anything？〃　said　an　inhabitant　at　the　kerb。　〃Yes；〃　said　Mr。　Hoopdriver；　〃I've　lost　the　spoor；〃　and　walked　upon　his　way；　leaving　the　inhabitant　marvelling　what　part　of　a　bicycle　a　spoor　might　be。　Mr。　Hoopdriver；　abandoning　tracking；　began　asking　people　if　they　had　seen　a　Young　Lady　in　Grey　on　a　bicycle。　Six　casual　people　hadn't；　and　he　began　to　feel　the　inquiry　was　conspicuous；　and　desisted。　But　what　was　to　be　done？

Hoopdriver　was　hot；　tired；　and　hungry；　and　full　of　the　first　gnawings　of　a　monstrous　remorse。　He　decided　to　get　himself　some　tea　and　meat；　and　in　the　Royal　George　he　meditated　over　the　business　in　a　melancholy　frame　enough。　They　had　passed　out　of　his　worldvanished；　and　all　his　wonderful　dreams　of　some　vague；　crucial　interference　collapsed　like　a　castle　of　cards。　What　a　fool　he　had　been　not　to　stick　to　them　like　a　leech！　He　might　have　thought！　But　there！what　WAS　the　good　of　that　sort　of　thing　now？　He　thought　of　her　tears；　of　her　helplessness；　of　the　bearing　of　the　other　man　in　brown；　and　his　wrath　and　disappointment　surged　higher。　〃What　CAN　I　do？〃　said　Mr。　Hoopdriver　aloud；　bringing　his　fist　down　beside　the　teapot。

What　would　Sherlock　Holmes　have　done？　Perhaps；　after　all；　there　might　be　such　things　as　clues　in　the　world；　albeit　the　age　of　miracles　was　past。　But　to　look　for　a　clue　in　this　intricate　network　of　cobbled　streets；　to　examine　every　muddy　interstice！　There　was　a　chance　by　looking　about　and　inquiry　at　the　various　inns。　Upon　that　he　began。　But　of　course　they　might　have　ridden　straight　through　and　scarcely　a　soul　have　marked　them。　And　then　came　a　positivelybrilliant　idea。　〃'Ow　many　ways　are　there　out　of　Chichester？〃　said　Mr。　Hoopdriver。　It　was　really　equal　to　Sherlock　Holmesthat。〃　If　they've　made　tracks；　I　shall　find　those　tracks。　If　notthey're　in　the　town。〃　He　was　then　in　East　Street；　and　he　started　at　once　to　make　the　circuit　of　the　place；　discovering　incidentally　that　Chichester　is　a　walled　city。　In　passing；　he　made　inquiries　at　the　Black　Swan；　the　Crown；　and　the　Red　Lion　Hotel。　At　six　o'clock　in　the　evening；　he　was　walking　downcast；　intent；　as　one　who　had　dropped　money；　along　the　road　towards　Bognor；　kicking　up　the　dust　with　his　shoes　and　fretting　with　disappointed　pugnacity。　A　thwarted；　crestfallen　Hoopdriver　it　was；　as　you　may　well　imagine。　And　then　suddenly　there　jumped　upon　his　attentiona　broad　line　ribbed　like　a　shilling；　and　close　beside　it　one　chequered；　that　ever　and　again　split　into　two。　〃Found！〃　said　Mr。　Hoopdriver　and　swung　round　on　his　heel　at　once；　and　back　to　the　Royal　George；　helter　skelter；　for　the　bicycle　they　were　minding　for　him。　The　ostler　thought　he　was　confoundedly　imperious；　considering　his　machine。



AT　BOGNOR

XXI

That　seductive　gentleman；　Bechamel；　had　been　working　up　to　a　crisis。　He　had　started　upon　this　elopement　in　a　vein　of　fine　romance；　immensely　proud　of　his　wickedness；　and　really　as　much　in　love　as　an　artificial　oversoul　can　be；　with　Jessie。　But　either　she　was　the　profoundest　of　coquettes　or　she　had　not　the　slightest　element　of　Passion　（with　a　large　P）　in　her　composition。　It　warred　with　all　his　ideas　of　himself　and　the　feminine　mind　to　think　that　under　their　flattering　circumstances　she　really　could　be　so　vitally　deficient。　He　found　her　persistent　coolness；　her　more　or　less　evident　contempt　for　himself；　exasperating　in　the　highest　degree。　He　put　it　to　himself　that　she　was　enough　to　provoke　a　saint；　and　tried　to　think　that　was　piquant　and　enjoyable；　but　the　blisters　on　his　vanity　asserted　themselves。　The　fact　is；　he　was；　under　this　standing　ir