Bindle Part 33
He overtook the vans just as they were entering Branksome Road. Pulling the key out of his pocket he looked at the tag.
"Funny," he muttered, "thought he said a 'undred an' eighty-one, not a 'undred an' thirty-one."
He took a sc.r.a.p of paper out of his pocket, on which he had written down the number in the manager's office. It was clearly 181. The sergeant had given him the wrong key.
"'Ere! Hi!" he began, when he stopped suddenly, a grin overspreading his features. Suddenly he slapped his knee.
"Wot a go! 'Oly Moses, I'll do it! I only 'ope they 'aven't left no servants in the 'ouse. Won't it be-- Hi, where the 'ell are you goin' to? You're pa.s.sin' the 'ouse."
"Didn't yer say a 'undred an' heighty-one?" came the hoa.r.s.e voice of Wilkes from the front of the first of the pantechnicons.
"A 'undred an' thirty-one, you ole 'Uggins. 'Adn't yer better count it up on yer fingers? Yer can use yer toes if yer like."
There was a growl in response. Bindle was popular with his mates, and no one ever took offence at what he said.
The two vans drew up before No. 131, and the four men grouped themselves by the gate.
Bindle surveyed them with a grin.
"Lord, wot a army of ole reprobates! Wilkes," said Bindle gravely, addressing an elderly man with a stubbly beard and a persistent cough, of which he made the most, "yer must get out of that 'abit o' yours o' shavin' only on jubilee days and golden weddin's. It spoils y' appearance. Yer won't get no more kisses than a currycomb."
Bindle was in high spirits.
"'Ullo, Ginger, where's that clean coller you was wearin' last Toosday week? Lent it to the lodger? 'Ere, come along. Let's lay the dust 'fore we starts." And Bindle and his squad trooped off to the nearest public-house.
A quarter of an hour later they returned and set to work. Bindle laboured like one possessed, and inspired his men to more than usual efforts. Nothing had been prepared, and consequently there was much more to do than was usually the case. One of the men remarked upon this fact.
"They ain't a-goin' to pay you for doin' things and do 'em theirselves, so look slippy," was Bindle's response.
The people at No. 129 manifested considerable surprise in the doings of Bindle and his a.s.sistants. Soon after a start had been made, the maidservant came to the front door for a few moments, and watched the operations with keen interest. As Bindle staggered down the path beneath a particularly voluminous armchair she ventured a tentative remark.
"I'm surprised that Mrs. Rogers is movin'," she said.
"Not 'alf as surprised as she'll be when she finds out," muttered Bindle with a grin, as he deposited the chair on the tail of the van for Ginger to stow away.
"Funny she shouldn't 'ave told yer," he remarked to the girl as he returned up the path.
"You ain't 'alf as funny as you think," retorted the girl with a toss of her head.
"If you're as funny as you look, Ruthie dear, you ought to be worth a lot to yer family," retorted Bindle.
"Where did you get that nose from?" snapped the girl pertly.
"Same place as yer got that face, only I got there first. Now run in, Ruthie, there's a good girl. I'm busy. I'm also married." The girl retired discomfited.
Later in the day the mistress of No. 129 emerged on her way to pay a call. Seeing Bindle she paused, lifted her lorgnettes, and surveyed him with cold insolence.
"Is Mrs. Rogers moving?" she asked.
"No, mum," replied Bindle, "we're goin' to take the furniture for a ride in the park."
"You're an extremely impertinent fellow," was the retort. "I shall report you to your employers."
"Please don't do that, mum; think o' me 'ungry wives an' child."
There was no further endeavour to enquire into the destination of Mrs. Rogers's possessions.
By four o'clock the last load had left-a miscellaneous ma.s.s of oddments that puzzled Bindle how he was ever going to sort them out.
It was past seven before Bindle and his men had finished their work. The miscellaneous things, obviously the acc.u.mulation of many years, had presented problems; but Bindle had overcome them by putting in the coal-cellar everything that he could not crowd in a lumber room at the top of the house, or distribute through the rest of the rooms.
"Seemed to have moved in an 'urry," coughed Wilkes; "I never see sich a lot of truck in all me life."
"P'r'aps they owed the rent," suggested Huggles.
"'Uggles, 'Uggles," remonstrated Bindle with a grin, "I'm surprised at you. 'Cos your family 'as shot the moon for years-'Uggles, I'm pained."
Bindle duly returned the key to the police-station, put up the vans, and himself saw that the horses were made comfortable for the night. Whenever in charge of a job he always made this his own particular duty.
II
At six o'clock on the following afternoon a railway omnibus drew up at the West Kensington police-station. In it were Mr. and Mrs. Railton-Rogers, seven little Rogerses, a nursemaid, and what is known in suburbia as a cook-general.
After some difficulty, Mr. Rogers, a bald-headed, thick-set man with the fussy deportment of a Thames tug, extricated himself from his progeny. After repeated injunctions to it to remain quiet, he disappeared into the police-station and a few minutes later emerged with the key.
"Don't do that, Eustace," he called out.
Eustace was doing nothing but press a particularly stubby nose against the window of the omnibus; but Mr. Rogers was a man who must talk if only to keep himself in practice. If nothing worthy of comment presented itself, he would exclaim, apropos the slightest sound or movement, "What's that?"
The omnibus started off again, and a few minutes later turned into Branksome Road. It was Nelly, the second girl, aged eleven, who made the startling discovery.
"Mother, mother, look at our house, it's empty!" she cried excitedly.
"Nelly, be quiet," commanded Mr. Rogers from sheer habit.
"But, father, father, look, look!" she persisted, pointing in the direction of No. 131.
Mr. Rogers looked, and looked again. He then looked at his family as if to a.s.sure himself of his own ident.i.ty.
"Good G.o.d! Emily," he gasped (Emily was Mrs. Rogers), "look!"
Emily looked. She was a heavy, apathetic woman, who seemed always to be a day in arrears of the amount of sleep necessary to her. A facetious relative had dubbed her "the sleeping partner." From the house Mrs. Rogers looked back to her husband, as if seeking her cue from him.
"They've stolen my horse!" a howl of protest arose from Eustace, and for once he went uncorrected.
The omnibus drew up with a groan and a squeak opposite to No. 131. Mr. Rogers, followed by a stream of little Rogerses, bounded out and up the path like a comet that had outstripped its tail. He opened the door with almost incredible quickness, entered and rushed in and out of the rooms like a lost dog seeking his master. He then darted up the stairs, the seven little Rogerses streaming after him. When he had reached the top floor and had thoroughly a.s.sured himself that everywhere there was a void of desolation, he uttered a howl of despair, and, forgetful of the tail of young Rogerses toiling after him in vain, turned, and tearing down the stairs collided with Nelly, who, losing her balance, fell back on Eustace, who in turn lost his balance, and amidst wails and yells comet and tail tumbled down the stairs and lay in a heap on the first-floor landing.