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  CHAPTER III

  WILLIAM'S BURGLAR

  When William first saw him he was leaning against the wall of theWhite Lion, gazing at the passers-by with a moody smile upon hisvillainous-looking countenance.

  It was evident to any careful observer that he had not confined hisattentions to the exterior of the White Lion.

  William, at whose heels trotted his beloved mongrel (rightly namedJumble), was passing him with a casual glance, when somethingattracted his attention. He stopped and looked back, then, turninground, stood in front of the tall, untidy figure, gazing up at himwith frank and unabashed curiosity.

  "Who cut 'em off?" he said at last in an awed whisper.

  The figure raised his hands and stroked the long hair down the side ofhis face.

  "Now yer arskin'," he said with a grin.

  "Well, who _did_?" persisted William.

  "That 'ud be tellin'," answered his new friend, moving unsteadilyfrom one foot to the other. "See?"

  "You got 'em cut off in the war," said William firmly.

  "I didn't. I bin in the wor orl right. Stroike me pink, I bin in thewor and _that's_ the truth. But I didn't get 'em cut orf in the wor.Well, I'll stop kiddin' yer. I'll tell yer strite. I never 'ad none._Nar!_"

  William stood on tiptoe to peer under the untidy hair at the smallapertures that in his strange new friend took the place of ears.Admiration shone in William's eyes.

  "Was you _born_ without 'em?" he said enviously.

  His friend nodded.

  "Nar don't yer go torkin' about it," he went on modestly, thoughseeming to bask in the sun of William's evident awe and respect. "Idon't want all folks knowin' 'bout it. See? It kinder _marks_ a man,this 'ere sort of thing. See? Makes 'im too easy to _track_, loike.That's why I grow me hair long. See? 'Ere, 'ave a drink?"

  He put his head inside the window of the White Lion and roared out"Bottle o' lemonide fer the young gent."

  William followed him to a small table in the little sunny porch, andhis heart swelled with pride as he sat and quaffed his beverage with amanly air. His friend, who said his name was Mr. Blank, showed a mostflattering interest in him. He elicited from him the whereabouts ofhis house and the number of his family, a description of the door andwindow fastenings, of the dining-room silver and his mother'sjewellery.

  William, his eyes fixed with a fascinated stare upon Mr. Blank's ears,gave the required information readily, glad to be able in any way tointerest this intriguing and mysterious being.

  "Tell me about the war," said William at last.

  "It were orl right while it larsted," said Mr. Blank with a sigh. "Itwere orl right, but I s'pose, like mos' things in this 'ere world, itcouldn't larst fer ever. See?"

  William set down the empty glass of lemonade and leant across thetable, almost dizzy with the romance of the moment. Had Douglas, hadHenry, had Ginger, had any of those boys who sat next him at schooland joined in the feeble relaxations provided by the authorities outof school, ever done _this_--ever sat at a real table outside a realpublic-house drinking lemonade and talking to a man with no ears who'dfought in the war and who looked as if he might have done _anything_?

  Jumble, meanwhile, sat and snapped at flies, frankly bored.

  "Did you"--said William in a sibilant whisper--"did you ever _kill_anyone?"

  Mr. Blank laughed a laugh that made William's blood curdle.

  "Me kill anyone? Me kill anyone? _'Ondreds!_"

  William breathed a sigh of satisfaction. Here was romance andadventure incarnate.

  "What do you do now the war's over?"

  Mr. Blank closed one eye.

  "That 'ud be tellin', wudn't it?"

  "DID YOU"--SAID WILLIAM IN A SIBILANT WHISPER--"DID YOUEVER _KILL_ ANYONE?"]

  "I'll keep it awfully secret," pleaded William. "I'll never tellanyone."

  Mr. Blank shook his head.

  "What yer want ter know fer, anyway?" he said.

  William answered eagerly, his eyes alight.

  "'Cause I'd like to do jus' the same when I grow up."

  Mr. Blank flung back his head and emitted guffaw after guffaw ofunaffected mirth.

  "Oh 'ell," he said, wiping his eyes. "Oh, stroike me pink! That'sgood, that is. You wait, young gent, you wait till you've growed upand see what yer pa says to it. Oh 'ell!"

  He rose and pulled his cap down over his eyes.

  "Well, I'll say good day to yer, young gent."

  William looked at him wistfully.

  "I'd like to see you again, Mr. Blank, I would, honest. Will you behere this afternoon?"

  "Wot d'yer want to see me agine fer?" said Mr. Blank suspiciously.

  "I _like_ you," said William fervently. "I like the way you talk, andI like the things you say, and I want to know about what you do!"

  Mr. Blank was obviously flattered.

  "I may be round 'ere agine this arter, though I mike no promise. See?I've gotter be careful, I 'ave. I've gotter be careful 'oo sees me an''oo 'ears me, and where I go. That's the worst of 'aving no ears.See?"

  William did not see, but he was thrilled to the soul by the mystery.

  "An' you don't tell no one you seen me nor nothing abart me," went onMr. Blank.

  Pulling his cap still farther over his head, Mr. Blank set offunsteadily down the road, leaving William to pay for his lemonadewith his last penny.

  He walked home, his heart set firmly on a lawless career of crime.Opposition he expected from his father and mother and Robert andEthel, but his determination was fixed. He wondered if it would bevery painful to have his ears cut off.

  He entered the dining-room with an air of intense mystery, pulling hiscap over his eyes, and looking round in a threatening manner.

  "William, what _do_ you mean by coming into the house in your cap?Take it off at once."

  William sighed. He wondered if Mr. Blank had a mother.

  When he returned he sat down and began quietly to remodel his life. Hewould not be an explorer, after all, nor an engine-driver norchimney-sweep. He would be a man of mystery, a murderer, fighter,forger. He fingered his ears tentatively. They seemed fixed on jollyfast. He glanced with utter contempt at his father who had just comein. His father's life of blameless respectability seemed to him atthat minute utterly despicable.

  "The Wilkinsons over at Todfoot have had their house broken into now,"Mrs. Brown was saying. "_All_ her jewellery gone. They think it's agang. It's just the villages round here. There seems to be one everyday!"

  William expressed his surprise.

  "Oh, 'ell!" he ejaculated, with a slightly self-conscious air.

  Mr. Brown turned round and looked at his son.

  "May I ask," he said politely, "where you picked up that expression?"

  "I got it off one of my fren's," said William with quiet pride.

  "Then I'd take it as a personal favour," went on Mr. Brown, "if you'dkindly refrain from airing your friends' vocabularies in this house."

  "He means you're never to say it again, William," translated Mrs.Brown sternly. "_Never._"

  "All right," said William. "I won't. See? I da--jolly well won't.Strike me pink. See?"

  He departed with an air of scowling mystery and dignity combined,leaving his parents speechless with amazement.

  That afternoon he returned to the White Lion. Mr. Blank was standingunobtrusively in the shadow of the wall.

  "'Ello, young gent," he greeted William, "nice dorg you've got."

  William looked proudly down at Jumble.

  "You won't find," he said proudly and with some truth, "you won't findanother dog like this--not for _miles_!"

  "Will 'e be much good as a watch dog, now?" asked Mr. Blankcarelessly.

  "Good?" said William, almost indignant at the question. "There isn'tany sort of dog he isn't good at!"

  "Umph," said Mr. Blank, looking at him thoughtfully.

  "Tell me about things you've _done_," said William earnestly.

  "Yus, I will, too," said Mr. Blank. "But jus' you t
ell me first 'oolives at all these 'ere nice 'ouses an' all about 'em. See?"

  WILLIAM DEPARTED WITH AN AIR OF SCOWLING MYSTERY,LEAVING HIS PARENTS SPEECHLESS WITH AMAZEMENT]

  William readily complied, and the strange couple gradually wendedtheir way along the road towards William's house. William stopped atthe gate and considered deeply. He was torn between instincts ofhospitality and a dim suspicion that his family would not afford toMr. Blank that courtesy which is a guest's due. He looked at Mr.Blank's old green-black cap, long, untidy hair, dirty, lined, sly oldface, muddy clothes and gaping boots, and decided quite finally thathis mother would not allow him in her drawing-room.

  "Will you," he said tentatively, "will you come roun' an' see our backgarden? If we go behind these ole bushes and keep close along thewall, no one'll see us."

  To William's relief Mr. Blank did not seem to resent the suggestion ofsecrecy. They crept along the wall in silence except for Jumble, wholoudly worried Mr. Blank's trailing boot-strings as he walked. Theyreached a part of the back garden that was not visible from the houseand sat down together under a shady tree.

  "P'raps," began Mr. Blank politely, "you could bring a bit o' tea outto me on the quiet like."

  "I'll ask mother----" began William.

  "Oh, no," said Mr. Blank modestly. "I don't want ter give no one notrouble. Just a slice o' bread, if you can find it, without troublin'no one. See?"

  William had a brilliant idea.

  "Let's go 'cross to that window an' get in," he said eagerly. "That'sthe lib'ry and no one uses it 'cept father, and he's not in tilllater."

  Mr. Blank insisted on tying Jumble up, then he swung himselfdexterously through the window. William gave a gasp of admiration.

  "You did that fine," he said.

  Again Mr. Blank closed one eye.

  "Not the first time I've got in at a winder, young gent, nor thelarst, I bet. Not by a long way. See?"

  William followed more slowly. His eye gleamed with pride. This hero ofromance and adventure was now his guest, under his roof.

  "Make yourself quite at home, Mr. Blank," he said with an air ofintense politeness.

  Mr. Blank did. He emptied Mr. Brown's cigar-box into his pocket. Hedrank three glasses of Mr. Brown's whiskey and soda. While William'sback was turned he filled his pockets with the silver ornaments fromthe mantel-piece. He began to inspect the drawers in Mr. Brown's desk.Then:

  MR. BLANK MADE HIMSELF QUITE AT HOME]

  "William! Come to tea!"

  "You stay here," whispered William. "I'll bring you some."

  But luck was against him. It was a visitors' tea in the drawing-room,and Mrs. de Vere Carter, a neighbour, there, in all her glory. Sherose from her seat with an ecstatic murmur.

  "Willie! _Dear_ child! _Sweet_ little soul!"

  With one arm she crushed the infuriated William against her belt, withthe other she caressed his hair. Then William in moody silence satdown in a corner and began to eat bread and butter. Every time heprepared to slip a piece into his pocket, he found his mother's orMrs. de Vere Carter's eye fixed upon him and hastily began to eat ithimself. He sat, miserable and hot, seeing only the heroic figurestarving in the next room, and planned a raid on the larder as soon ashe could reasonably depart. Every now and then he scowled across atMrs. de Vere Carter and made a movement with his hands as thoughpulling a cap over his eyes. He invested even his eating with an airof dark mystery.

  Then Robert, his elder brother, came in, followed by a thin, pale manwith eye-glasses and long hair.

  "This is Mr. Lewes, mother," said Robert with an air of pride andtriumph. "He's editor of _Fiddle Strings_."

  There was an immediate stir and sensation. Robert had often talked ofhis famous friend. In fact Robert's family was weary of the sound ofhis name, but this was the first time Robert had induced him to leavethe haunts of his genius to visit the Brown household.

  Mr. Lewes bowed with a set, stern, self-conscious expression, asthough to convey to all that his celebrity was more of a weight than apleasure to him. Mrs. de Vere Carter bridled and fluttered, for_Fiddle Strings_ had a society column and a page of scrappy "News ofthe Town," and Mrs. de Vere Carter's greatest ambition was to see hername in print.

  Mr. Lewes sat back in his chair, took his tea-cup as though it were afresh addition to his responsibilities, and began to talk. He talkedapparently without even breathing. He began on the weather, drifted onto art and music, and was just beginning a monologue on The Novel,when William rose and crept from the room like a guilty spirit. Hefound Mr. Blank under the library table, having heard a noise in thekitchen and fearing a visitor. A cigar and a silver snuffer hadfallen from his pocket to the floor. He hastily replaced them. Williamwent up and took another look at the wonderful ears and heaved a sighof relief. While parted from his strange friend he had had a horriblesuspicion that the whole thing was a dream.

  "I'll go to the larder and get you sumthin'," he said. "You jus' stayhere."

  "I think, young gent," said Mr. Blank, "I think I'll just go an' lookround upstairs on the quiet like, an' you needn't mention it to noone. See?"

  Again he performed the fascinating wink.

  They crept on tiptoe into the hall, but--the drawing-room door wasajar.

  "William!"

  William's heart stood still. He could hear his mother coming acrossthe room, then--she stood in the doorway. Her face filled with horroras her eye fell upon Mr. Blank.

  "_William!_" she said.

  William's feelings were beyond description. Desperately he sought foran explanation for his friend's presence. With what pride and_sang-froid_ had Robert announced his uninvited guest! Williamdetermined to try it, at any rate. He advanced boldly into thedrawing-room.

  "This is Mr. Blank, mother," he announced jauntily. "He hasn't got noears."

  Mr. Blank stood in the background, awaiting developments. Flight wasnow impossible.

  The announcement fell flat. There was nothing but horror upon the fivesilent faces that confronted William. He made a last desperate effort.

  "He's bin in the war," he pleaded. "He's--killed folks."

  Then the unexpected happened.

  Mrs. de Vere Carter rose with a smile of welcome. In her mind's eyeshe saw the touching story already in print--the tattered hero--thegracious lady--the age of Democracy. The stage was laid and that dark,pale young man had only to watch and listen.

  "Ah, one of our dear heroes! My poor, brave man! A cup of tea, mydear," turning to William's thunderstruck mother. "And he may sitdown, may he not?" She kept her face well turned towards thesardonic-looking Mr. Lewes. He must not miss a word or gesture. "How_proud_ we are to do anything for our dear heroes! Wounded, perhaps?Ah, poor man!" She floated across to him with a cup of tea and pliedhim with bread and butter and cake. William sat down meekly on achair, looking rather pale. Mr. Blank, whose philosophy was to takethe goods the gods gave and not look to the future, began to make ahearty meal. "Are you looking for work, my poor man?" asked Mrs. deVere Carter, leaning forward in her chair.

  Her poor man replied with simple, manly directness that he "was dam'dif he was. See?" Mr. Lewes began to discuss The Drama with Robert.Mrs. de Vere Carter raised her voice.

  "_How_ you must have suffered! Yes, there is suffering ingrained inyour face. A piece of shrapnel? Ten inches square? Right in at one hipand out at the other? Oh, my poor man! _How_ I feel for you. How allclass distinctions vanish at such a time. How----"

  "ARE YOU LOOKING FOR WORK, MY POOR MAN?" ASKED MRS. DEVERE CARTER.]

  She stopped while Mr. Blank drank his tea. In fact, all conversationceased while Mr. Blank drank his tea, just as conversation on astation ceases while a train passes through.

  Mrs. Brown looked helplessly around her. When Mr. Blank had eaten aplate of sandwiches, a plate of bread and butter, and half a cake, herose slowly, keeping one hand over the pocket in which reposed thesilver ornaments.

  "Well 'm," he said, touching his cap. "Thank you kindly. I've 'ad afine te
a. I 'ave. A dam' fine tea. An' I'll not forget yer kindness toa pore ole soldier." Here he winked brazenly at William. "An' good dayter you orl."

  Mrs. de Vere Carter floated out to the front door with him, andWilliam followed as in a dream.

  Mrs. Brown found her voice.

  "We'd better have the chair disinfected," she murmured to Ethel.

  Then Mrs. de Vere Carter returned smiling to herself and eyeing theyoung editor surmisingly.

  "I witnessed a pretty scene the other day in a suburbandrawing-room...." It might begin like that.

  William followed the amazing figure round the house again to thelibrary window. Here it turned to him with a friendly grin.

  "I'm just goin' to 'ave that look round upstairs now. See?" he said."An' once more, yer don't need ter say nothin' to no one. See?"

  With the familiar, beloved gesture he drew his old cap down over hiseyes, and was gone.

  William wandered upstairs a few minutes later to find his visitorstanding at the landing window, his pockets bulging.

  "I'm goin' to try this 'ere window, young gent," he said in a quick,business-like voice. "I see yer pa coming in at the front gate. Giveme a shove. Quick, nar."

  Mr. Brown entered the drawing-room.

  "Mulroyd's had his house burgled now," he said. "Every bit of hiswife's jewellery gone. They've got some clues, though. It's a gang allright, and one of them is a chap without ears. Grows his hair long tohide it. But it's a clue. The police are hunting for him."

  He looked in amazement at the horror-stricken faces before him. Mrs.Brown sat down weakly.

  "Ethel, my smelling salts! They're on the mantel-piece."

  Robert grew pale.

  "Good Lord--my silver cricket cup," he gasped, racing upstairs.

  The landing window had been too small, and Mr. Blank too big, thoughWilliam did his best.

  There came to the astounded listeners the sound of a fierce scuffle,then Robert descended, his hair rumpled and his tie awry, holdingWilliam by the arm. William looked pale and apprehensive. "He wasthere," panted Robert, "just getting out of the window. He chucked thethings out of his pockets and got away. I couldn't stop him. And--andWilliam was there----"

  William's face assumed the expression of one who is prepared for theworst.

  "The plucky little chap! Struggling with him! Trying to pull him backfrom the window! All by himself!"

  "I _wasn't_," cried William excitedly. "I was _helping_ him. He's _myfriend_. I----"

  But they heard not a word. They crowded round him, praised him, shookhands with him, asked if he was hurt. Mrs. de Vere Carter kept up oneperpetual scream of delight and congratulation.

  "The _dear_ boy! The little _pet_! How _brave_! What _courage_! Whatan _example_ to us all! And the horrid, wretched man! Posing as a_hero_. Wangling himself into the sweet child's confidence. Are youhurt, my precious? Did the nasty man hurt you? You _darling_ boy!"

  When the babel had somewhat subsided, Mr. Brown came forward and laida hand on William's shoulder.

  "I'm very pleased with you, my boy," he said. "You can buy anythingyou like to-morrow up to five shillings."

  William's bewildered countenance cleared.

  "Thank you, father," he said meekly.