Читать книгу A Crime On Canvas - Fred M. White - Страница 9

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CONVICT 196 Opened his eyes, dimly conscious of the fact that to-day something was going to happen. It was still early morning, and the faint ray of dawn was struggling with the last shades of night, so that the prison cell was full of hard brown shadows. The prisoner turned on his wretched bed asking himself in a sleepy way what it was that was about to happen to him. Then, in a somnolent, cynical way he dismissed the idea. For what, indeed, was likely to happen to him? Here he was in a place where one day was so hideously like another that men sometimes went mad from the sheer monotony of it. Why at the dawn of this beautiful spring morning should he suddenly take it into his head that the awful routine of his life was all at once to be broken?

And yet, dismiss the subject as he would, it came cropping up again and again until he could see the outline of the window of his cell and the faint suggestion of a rosy dawn behind it. He was wide awake now, and gradually his brain resumed its normal function. The truth came to him with a swiftness and suddenness that brought him upright in his bed, trembling in every limb and sweating in every pore. The faint flush of day behind the grating grew into a long beam of light which cast itself like a lance, all gold and dazzling, across the greyness of the ceiling. Another moment and Lawrence Hatton was out of bed, staggering across the cold floor as if he had just recovered from a serious illness with limbs still too weak to support him.

He wiped the perspiration from his forehead and began hastily to drag on his prison clothes. Then he laughed unsteadily as he stripped the coarse garments off.

"What a fool I am!" he muttered. "Of course, I remember. This is the day of my release. I am not to put those clothes on. I was told to wait till one of the warders brought me my own garments. And so I am about to exchange the broad arrow and those ghastly grey stockings for the garb of a gentleman again. Well, I have paid the penalty. I have suffered three years for a crime that I never committed. But it will be no use telling the world that, for no one will believe me. Not that it matters in the least, seeing that Raymond Watney is the only friend I have left. I suppose he will meet me as he promised. Ah, well, though I feel like an old man with every hope gone, it will be good to shake that honest hand again, it will be good to sit down to a civilized table and eat a meal which is worthy of something better than a dog."

So Lawrence Hatton sat there musing until the great bell of the prison clanged out and the wards burst into echoing life. It was a little before eight o'clock when a warder appeared bearing a neat pile of clothing and the usual breakfast in the usual unattractive tin. The warder nodded in friendly fashion.

"I have brought you these," he said. "You will have to come before the Governor presently to claim any valuables that may belong to you. I have brought your breakfast, too, though I don't suppose you will care much about that."

"I think not," Hatton said drily. "I propose, if a friend of mine meets me, to have something a little more attractive. You can take it away, thanks."

A little time dragged on, and then, feeling almost uncomfortable in his ordinary clothing, Hatton appeared before the Governor. It was not a long ceremony, and almost before he knew it he was standing in the open air with the sun shining down upon him, a man free to go where he liked and to seek his own pleasures and enjoyments. Just for a moment he stood almost stunned by the sudden change of his fortunes. A mist rose before his eyes blotting out the sunshine. Then, as if ashamed of this momentary weakness, he pulled himself together and looked about him.

If he had expected to meet a friend there, he was doomed to disappointment. For the moment he did not know which way to go or where to turn. Just for an instant it occurred to him that his friend had deliberately failed him; then he put the idea aside as one utterly unworthy.

"I mustn't get like that," he whispered to himself. "I must try to believe that all the world is not against me. There may be lots of good reasons why Watney could not turn up this morning. A busy journalist is never entirely master of his own time. But I wish I could recollect where he lived, so that I could look him up for myself."

But this was cold comfort for a man who stood there with no prospect before him and, so far as eye could see, friendless. Other prisoners were being released besides himself, perhaps a score or more of them altogether, and Hatton saw with something like a pang of envy that hardly one left the precincts of the gaol alone. For the most part they were met by friends. Women were waiting anxiously, so say nothing of a handful of children. But of Raymond Watney there was no sign, and presently Hatton began to shuffle along in an aimless kind of way, looking for a seat where he could sit down and think the matter out. It seemed to him that he was being followed. Then he turned to a man in a shabby suit of clothes and fiercely inquired whether he wanted to speak to him.

The little foxy man grinned uneasily and writhed about as if afraid to speak. Then, in a hoarse whisper he mentioned Lawrence's name and inquired as to his identity.

"Oh, that's all right," Hatton said impatiently. "We need not make any mystery on that score. My name is Lawrence Hatton, and I have just come out of Wandsworth Prison yonder, having finished my sentence. That I was innocent is a mere detail. And now tell me what you want. I can hardly believe that you have been sent here by any friend of mine, because I don't think that any of my old acquaintances would employ a man of your class in any capacity unless he had suddenly taken to dog-stealing. Now do speak out."

The little man writhed and wriggled. There was an uneasy grin on his face as if he were trying to appreciate Hatton's grim pleasantry. He spoke huskily at length.

"Nevertheless, you are quite wrong, sir," he said. "I did come here to meet you on behalf of a friend of yours who could not be here himself. He instructed me to come here——"

"Not Watney, I'll swear," Lawrence cried.

The little man shook his head with a puzzled expression.

"I never heard the name before, sir," he said; "indeed, to tell you the truth, the gentleman for whom I am acting didn't give me his name. He told me exactly what I was to do and paid me for my services, and that's why I am here. I was to come and see you and ask you to come with me as far as the Embankment Gardens. We were to sit down there on a certain seat, and then, as far as I am concerned, my business will be finished."

"Extraordinary," Lawrence muttered. "Upon my word, I had no idea that so many persons were interested in my welfare. And so I am to come with you like a child and ask no questions, and presently this fairy godfather is to appear with a fortune all ready to pour into my lap. Well, I am alone in the world. I am reckless and desperate, for the one friend I relied upon seems to have played me false. Seeing that it doesn't matter two straws what becomes of me, you can guide me to the rendezvous and introduce me to Prince Fortunatus."

The little man grinned and winked as he slapped his pocket significantly. With a curt gesture Hatton signified that he might lead the way, and together the ill-assorted couple shuffled along until they came to the railway station. In the same silence they travelled till they reached Waterloo. It was with strangely mingled feelings that Lawrence surveyed the bustling station and crowds of people on the platforms. Even in the space of time in which he had been withdrawn from the world things seemed to have changed. It was strange to think that for the last three years he had never seen a daily paper. A thousand questions trembled on his tongue, but he was too proud and reserved to speak to his companion. They came at length to the Embankment Gardens now glowing tender green in their young spring foliage. And here the shabby little man indicated a seat. He cocked his head on one side and listened as a neighbouring clock struck.

"We are a quarter of an hour too soon," he said. "But you have only to sit here and wait. As for myself, I will wish you a respectful good morning. I thank you for your company and the geniality and friendship of your manners."

With this parting thrust the little man went on his way, leaving Hatton to wonder what was going to happen next. As he sat there deeply immersed in thought, he heard his name mentioned. He looked up in surprise to see a girl standing before him.

"Lawrence," she murmured. "Have you forgotten?"

"Really," Hatton replied, "you have the advantage. Good Heavens! it is Ethel—Miss Blantyre. Surely I am not mistaken."