The Constable's Move, Page 2

knocking sounded on the wall.

  "Hel--lp!" moaned Mrs. Grummit.

  "Halloa, there!" came the voice of the constable. "Why don't you keepthat baby quiet? We can't get a wink of sleep."

  Mr. Grummit dropped the stick on the bed and turned a dazed face to hiswife.

  "He--he's afraid--to come in," he gasped. "Keep it up, old gal."

  He took up the stick again and Mrs. Grummit did her best, but the hearthad gone out of the thing, and he was about to give up the task ashopeless when the door below was heard to open with a bang.

  "Here he is," cried the jubilant Grummit. "Now!"

  His wife responded, and at the same moment the bedroom door was flungopen, and her brother, who had been hastily fetched by the neighbours onthe other side, burst into the room and with one hearty blow sent Mr.Grummit sprawling.

  "Hit my sister, will you?" he roared, as the astounded Mr. Grummit rose."Take that!"

  Mr. Grummit took it, and several other favours, while his wife, tuggingat her brother, endeavoured to explain. It was not, however, until Mr.Grummit claimed the usual sanctuary of the defeated by refusing to risethat she could make herself heard.

  "Joke?" repeated her brother, incredulously. "Joke?"

  Mrs. Grummit in a husky voice explained.

  Her brother passed from incredulity to amazement and from amazement tomirth. He sat down gurgling, and the indignant face of the injuredGrummit only added to his distress.

  "Best joke I ever heard in my life," he said, wiping his eyes. "Don'tlook at me like that, Bob; I can't bear it."

  "Get off 'ome," responded Mr. Grummit, glowering at him.

  "There's a crowd outside, and half the doors in the place open," said theother. "Well, it's a good job there's no harm done. So long."

  He passed, beaming, down the stairs, and Mr. Grummit, drawing near thewindow, heard him explaining in a broken voice to the neighbours outside.Strong men patted him on the back and urged him gruffly to say what hehad to say and laugh afterwards. Mr. Grummit turned from the window, andin a slow and stately fashion prepared to retire for the night. Even thesudden and startling disappearance of Mrs. Grummit as she got into bedfailed to move him.

  "The bed's broke, Bob," she said faintly.

  "Beds won't last for ever," he said, shortly; "sleep on the floor."

  Mrs. Grummit clambered out, and after some trouble secured the bedclothesand made up a bed in a corner of the room. In a short time she was fastasleep; but her husband, broad awake, spent the night in devising furtherimpracticable schemes for the discomfiture of the foe next door.

  He saw Mr. Evans next morning as he passed on his way to work. Theconstable was at the door smoking in his shirt-sleeves, and Mr. Grummitfelt instinctively that he was waiting there to see him pass.

  "I heard you last night," said the constable, playfully. "My word! Goodgracious!"

  "Wot's the matter with you?" demanded Mr. Grummit, stopping short.

  The constable stared at him. "She has been knocking you about," hegasped. "Why, it must ha' been you screaming, then! I thought itsounded loud. Why don't you go and get a summons and have her locked up?I should be pleased to take her."

  Mr. Grummit faced him, quivering with passion. "Wot would it cost if Iset about you?" he demanded, huskily.

  "Two months," said Mr. Evans, smiling serenely; "p'r'aps three."

  Mr. Grummit hesitated and his fists clenched nervously. The constable,lounging against his door-post, surveyed him with a dispassionate smile."That would be besides what you'd get from me," he said, softly.

  "Come out in the road," said Mr. Grummit, with sudden violence.

  "It's agin the rules," said Mr. Evans; "sorry I can't. Why not go andask your wife's brother to oblige you?"

  He went in laughing and closed the door, and Mr. Grummit, after afrenzied outburst, proceeded on his way, returning the smiles of suchacquaintances as he passed with an icy stare or a strongly-worded offerto make them laugh the other side of their face. The rest of the day hespent in working so hard that he had no time to reply to the anxiousinquiries of his fellow-workmen.

  He came home at night glum and silent, the hardship of not being able togive Mr. Evans his deserts without incurring hard labour having weighedon his spirits all day. To avoid the annoyance of the piano next door,which was slowly and reluctantly yielding up "_The Last Rose of Summer_"note by note, he went out at the back, and the first thing he saw was Mr.Evans mending his path with tins and other bric-a-brac.

  "Nothing like it," said the constable, looking up. "Your missus gave 'emto us this morning. A little gravel on top, and there you are."

  He turned whistling to his work again, and the other, after endeavouringin vain to frame a suitable reply, took a seat on an inverted wash-tuband lit his pipe. His one hope was that Constable Evans was going to tryand cultivate a garden.

  The hope was realized a few days later, and Mr. Grummit at the backwindow sat gloating over a dozen fine geraniums, some lobelias andcalceolarias, which decorated the constable's plot of ground. He couldnot sleep for thinking of them.

  He rose early the next morning, and, after remarking to Mrs. Grummit thatMr. Evans's flowers looked as though they wanted rain, went off to hiswork. The cloud which had been on his spirits for some time had lifted,and he whistled as he walked. The sight of flowers in front windowsadded to his good humour.

  He was still in good spirits when he left off work that afternoon, butsome slight hesitation about returning home sent him to the Brick-layers'firms instead. He stayed there until closing time, and then, being stilldisinclined for home, paid a visit to Bill Smith, who lived the otherside of Tunwich. By the time he started for home it was nearly midnight.

  The outskirts of the town were deserted and the houses in darkness. Theclock of Tunwich church struck twelve, and the last stroke was just dyingaway as he turned a corner and ran almost into the arms of the man he hadbeen trying to avoid.

  "Halloa!" said Constable Evans, sharply. "Here, I want a word with you."

  Mr. Grummit quailed. "With me, sir?" he said, with involuntary respect.

  "What have you been doing to my flowers?" demanded the other, hotly.

  "Flowers?" repeated Mr. Grummit, as though the word were new to him."Flowers? What flowers?"

  "You know well enough," retorted the constable. "You got over my fencelast night and smashed all my flowers down."

  "You be careful wot you're saying," urged Mr. Grummit. "Why, I loveflowers. You don't mean to tell me that all them beautiful flowers wotyou put in so careful 'as been spoiled?"

  "You know all about it," said the constable, choking. "I shall take outa summons against you for it."

  "Ho!" said Mr. Grummit. "And wot time do you say it was when I done it?"

  "Never you mind the time," said the other.

  "Cos it's important," said Mr. Grummit.

  "My wife's brother--the one you're so fond of--slept in my 'ouse lastnight. He was ill arf the night, pore chap; but, come to think of it,it'll make 'im a good witness for my innocence."

  "If I wasn't a policeman," said Mr. Evans, speaking with greatdeliberation, "I'd take hold o' you, Bob Grummit, and I'd give you thebiggest hiding you've ever had in your life."

  "If you wasn't a policeman," said Mr. Grummit, yearningly, "I'd arfmurder you."

  The two men eyed each other wistfully, loth to part.

  "If I gave you what you deserve I should get into trouble," said theconstable.

  "If I gave you a quarter of wot you ought to 'ave I should go to quod,"sighed Mr. Grummit.

  "I wouldn't put you there," said the constable, earnestly; "I swear Iwouldn't."

  "Everything's beautiful and quiet," said Mr. Grummit, trembling witheagerness, "and I wouldn't say a word to a soul. I'll take my solemndavit I wouldn't."

  "When I think o' my garden--" began the constable. With a suddenmovement he knocked off Mr. Grummit's cap, and then, seizing him by thecoat, began to hustle him along the
road. In the twinkling of an eyethey had closed.

  Tunwich church chimed the half-hour as they finished, and Mr. Grummit,forgetting his own injuries, stood smiling at the wreck before him. Theconstable's helmet had been smashed and trodden on; his uniform was tornand covered with blood and dirt, and his good looks marred for afortnight at least. He stooped with a groan, and, recovering his helmet,tried mechanically to punch it into shape.