Hocken and Hunken Part 45

"And I'll fit and make tea for you both," said Fancy. "It's near about time."

She vanished and closed the door behind her. 'Bias found a chair, seated himself, and filled his pipe very slowly and thoughtfully.

Mr Rogers waited.

"The business that brings me--" 'Bias paused, struck a match and lit up--"ain't quite the ordinary business."

"No?"

"No." For a few seconds 'Bias appeared to be musing. "In fact you might call it a--a sort o' flutter. That's the word--ain't it?--when you take a bit o' money and play venturesome with it, against your usual habits."

"Ay?" Mr Rogers looked at him sharply. "When I say venturesome,"

continued 'Bias, "you'll understand I don't mean foolhardy. . . .

Nothin' o' the sort. I want to hear o' something tolerably safe, into which a man might put a small sum he happened to have lyin' about."

"What sort of investment?"

"Ay, that's just what I want you to tell me. Ten per cent, we'll say, an' no more'n a moderate risk. . . . I reckoned as a man like you might know, maybe, o' half a dozen things o' the sort."

"What's the amount?" Mr Rogers's eyes, that had opened wide for a moment, narrowed themselves upon him in a curiosity that hid some humour.

"Put it at a hundred pound."

"Oh!--er--I mean, is that all?"

"You see," exclaimed 'Bias. "You mustn' run away wi' the notion that I ain't satisfied as things are. Four and five per cent--and that's what you get for me--does best in the main. I can live within the income and sleep o' nights. But once in a way--"

"Ay," interrupted Mr Rogers, "and more especially when _it's to oblige a friend_."

'Bias withdrew the pipe from his mouth and stared. "You're a clever one, too! . . . Well, and I don't mind you're knowin'. 'Tis a relief, in a way: for now you know I'm pleased enough with your dealins' on my own account."

"Thank 'ee. I'm not askin' no names."

"As to that, I'd rather not mention the name, either. But I'd be very glad o' your advice: for 'tis important to me, in a way o' speakin'!"

Mr Rogers nodded. "If that's so," said he, "you must give me a little time to think. There's mortgages, o' course: and there's deals to be done in s.h.i.+pping: and there's money-lendin,--though you'd object to that, maybe. . . . Anyway, you come to me to-morrow, and I may have something to propose."

"Thank 'ee. I take that as friendly."

"Right." Mr Rogers let drop a trembling half-paralysed hand towards the newspaper which lay on the floor beside his chair. "Would ye mind--"

'Bias stepped forward and picked it up for him.

"Thank 'ee. No: I want you to keep it. . . . I'm goin' to do a thing that's friendlier yet: though it be a risk. Open the paper at the middle sheet--right-hand side, an' look out a column headed 'Troy News.' . . . Got it?"

"Half a moment--Yes,' Troy News'--Here we are!"

"Now cast your eye down the column till you come 'pon a part about last Monday's Agricultural Demonstration."

"The devil!" swore 'Bias. "You don't mean to say--"

"'Course I do. Everything gets into the papers nowadays. . . .

You'll find it spicy."

'Bias found the paragraph and started to read, with knitted brows.

Its journalistic style held him puzzled for fully half a minute.

Then he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed "Ha!" and snorted. After another ten seconds he snorted again and exploded some bad words--some very bad words indeed.

"Thought I'd warn you to be careful," said Mr Rogers. "You don't take it amiss, I hope? In a little place like this there's eyes about all the time--an' tongues."

"I'd like to find the joker who wrote it?" breathed 'Bias, the paper trembling between his hands.

"I can't tell you who _wrote_ it," said the s.h.i.+p-chandler; "but I can give a pretty close guess who's responsible for it: and that's Philp."

"Philp?"

"Mind ye, I say 'tis but a guess."

"I'll Philp him!"

"Well, he's no fav'rite o' mine," said Mr Rogers grinning. "He's too suspicious for me, and I hate a man to be suspicious. . . . But he's the man I suspect."

"Where does he live?"

"Union Place--two flights o' steps below John Peter Nanjulian's-- left-hand side as you go up. But you can't have it out with him on suspicion only."

"Can't I?" said 'Bias grimly. "I'll ask him plain 'yes' or 'no.'

If he says 'yes,' I'll know what to do, and you may lay I'll do it."

"But if he says 'no'?"

"Then I'll call him a liar," promised 'Bias without a moment's indecision. "That'll touch him up, I should hope. . . . _Where_ did you say he lives?"

At this moment there came a knock at the door and Fancy entered with the tea-tray.

"If you'd really like a talk with him," said Mr Rogers, blinking, "maybe you'd best let the child here take you to his house. . . .

Eh, missy? Cap'n Hunken tells me as how he'd like to pay a call 'pon Mr Philp, up in Union Place."

"Now?" asked Fancy.

"The sooner the better," answered 'Bias, crus.h.i.+ng 'The Troy Herald'

between his hands.

Fancy's hands, disenc.u.mbered of the tea-tray, began to twitch violently.

"Very well, master," was all she said, however; and with that she left the room to fetch her hat and small cloak.

"I'd advise you to tackle Philp gently," was Mr Rogers's warning as soon as the pair were alone. "Not that I've any likin' for the man: but the point is, you've no evidence. He'll tell you--and, likely enough, with truth--as he never act'ally wrote what's printed."

"You leave him to me," answered 'Bias grimly, gulping his tea and preparing to sally forth.