The Admirable Tinker | Page 7

hammered on the door with his cane till he heard the grating of a chair

on a brick floor; the door opened, and a blowsy, red-faced woman
peered at him with blinking eyes.
"You have a little boy here in your charge. I've come for him," said Sir
Tancred.
The woman only blinked at him stupidly.
"I've come for the little boy," said Sir Tancred loudly.
A look of drunken cunning stole into the woman's muddled face. She
said thickly, "There ain't no lil boy 'ere," and tried to shut the door.
Sir Tancred thrust it open with a vigour which sent her staggering into
a chair, and stepped into the squalid, reeking room. Hunched up in a
chair, opposite the woman, sat a snoring man.
"Come!" said Sir Tancred. "I want no nonsense! Where's the child?"
A dull, muddled rage gathered in the woman's eyes; she made an effort
to rise on quite irresponsive legs. "Halbut!" she howled. "Halbut, wake
up! Here's a thief an' a burglar trying to steal the brat!"
The man grunted, and jerked out of his sleep with the mystic word,
"Washishish?"
"It'sh burglarsh, Halbut!" cried the woman, who seemed suddenly to
see two or more Sir Tancreds. "They're shtealing bratsh! Bash 'em!"
Halbut jerked onto his feet, and stood lurching:
"Englishmansh oush ish ish cashle," he said, with a ferocity which
petered out in an idiotic grin.
"Thash it! Bash 'em!" cried the woman.
Halbut advanced in a circular movement on Sir Tancred, with his fists
up; "Englishmansh oush ish ish cashle," he said firmly.

Sir Tancred lunged smartly at his chest with his cane; and he tumbled
down with his face to the wall.
"Englishmansh oush ish ish cashle," he said drowsily to the wainscot,
and was still.
Sir Tancred took the woman gingerly by the shoulder, and gave her a
shake. "Where's the child?" he said.
Apparently he had shaken the fumes up and the intelligence down, for
her only answer was a burst of sibilant incoherence.
With an exclamation of impatient disgust he loosed her, and went into
the back room. It was empty. He went up the rickety stairs, and, as he
had expected, found the door of the bedroom locked. He kicked it open
and went into the frowsy room. The child was not in it. He came
downstairs and opened the back door. As he did so, he heard a scuttling
rustle. The garden was empty, but the rustle he had heard set him
exploring the dirty, rag-covered hedge with keen eyes. He saw nothing,
and walked down the garden, stooping and peering into the bottom of
the hedge. Half-way down it his eyes fell on two little black feet, just
sticking out; and above them two frightened eyes stared through the
twigs.
Sir Tancred put his hands in among them gently, and drew out a tiny
child; his peaked little face was black, his thin little arms and legs were
black, he was clothed in filthy rags; and his yellowish hair was a
tangled mat. The child struggled like a very feeble little wild beast,
clawing and scratching, but silent with a terrible silence which showed
how he had learned to dread drawing attention to himself.
"Quiet! quiet! I'm not going to hurt you," said Sir Tancred in a gentle
voice, a little husky with a piercing emotion which had invaded him;
and something in its tones really did quiet the child, for he struggled no
more, though his breath came in a quick, faint, terrified panting.
Sir Tancred took him through the house, and felt a quivering throb run
through him at the sight of the brutes who had fallen back into their

drunken slumbers. He brought him out to the cab, and said hoarsely to
Selina, "Is this the child?"
"That's him, sir! That's him!" said Selina, holding out her hands for him;
and the tears of joy trickled down her rugged cheeks.
Sir Tancred gave him to her, bade the cab-man drive to the Hotel Cecil,
and got into the cab.
Selina had untied the brown-paper parcel, and was putting a little coat
on the child. "I took the liberty of getting it to bring him away, in case
you should let me have charge of him," she said.
The child still panted, but most of the terror had faded from his eyes; he
had recognised his friend. Sir Tancred looked at him hungrily; his soul,
so long starved, was feasting on the sight of that atom of humanity, so
grimy, so shocking to the eye, but his own child.
"They call you Hildebrand Anne, do they?" he said with a broken,
joyful laugh. "Tinker's the name for you!"
CHAPTER THREE
TINKER ACCEPTS HIS NAME
The child sat very still on Selina's lap, shrinking back as far