Noughts and Crosses | Page 9

done, I went on with my supper--it was an excellent cold capon--and all
the time the flute up-stairs kept toot-tootling without stopping, except
to change the tune. It gave me "Hearts of Oak," "Why, Soldiers, why?"
"Like Hermit Poor," and "Come, Lasses and Lads," before I had fairly
cleared the dish.
"And now," thought I, "I have had a good supper; but there are still
three things to be done. In the first place I want drink, in the second I
want a bed, and in the third I want to thank this kind person, whoever
he is, for his hospitality. I'm not going to begin life No. 2 with
housebreaking."
I rose, slipped the pistol into my tail-pocket, and followed the sound up
the ramshackle stairs. My footsteps made such a racket on their old
timbers as fairly to frighten me, but it never disturbed the flute-player.
He had harked back again to "Like Hermit Poor" by this time, and the
dolefulness of it was fit to make the dead cry out, but he went whining
on until I reached the head of the stairs and struck a rousing knock on
the door.
The playing stopped. "Come in," said a cheery voice; but it gave me no
cheerfulness. Instead of that, it sent all the comfort of my supper clean
out of me, as I opened the door and saw him sitting there.
There he was, the man who had saved my neck that day, and whom
most I hated in the world, sitting before a snug fire, with his flute on his
knee, a glass of port wine at his elbow, and looking so comfortable,
with that knowing light in his grey eyes, that I could have killed him
where he sat.
"Oh, it's you, is it?" he said, just the very least bit surprised and no
more. "Come in."

I stood in the doorway hesitating.
"Don't stay letting in that monstrous draught, man; but sit down. You'll
find the bottle on the table and a glass on the shelf."
I poured out a glassful and drank it off. The stuff was rare (I can
remember its trick on the tongue to this day), but somehow it did not
drive the cold out of my heart. I took another glass, and sat sipping it
and staring from the fire to my companion.
He had taken up the flute again, and was blowing a few deep notes out
of it, thoughtfully enough. He was a small, squarely-built man, with a
sharp ruddy face like a frozen pippin, heavy grey eyebrows, and a
mouth like a trap when it was not pursed up for that everlasting flute.
As he sat there with his wig off, the crown of his bald head was fringed
with an obstinate-looking patch of hair, the colour of a badger's. My
amazement at finding him here at this hour, and alone, was lost in my
hatred of the man as I saw the depths of complacent knowledge in his
face. I felt that I must kill him sooner or later, and the sooner the better.
Presently he laid down his flute again and spoke:--
"I scarcely expected you."
I grunted something in answer.
"But I might have known something was up, if I'd only paid attention to
my flute. It and I are not in harmony to-night. It doesn't like the secrets
I've been blowing into it; it has heard a lot of queer things in its time,
but it's an innocent-minded flute for all that, and I'm afraid that what
I've told it to-night is a point beyond what it's prepared to go."
"I take it, it knows a damned deal too much," growled I.
He looked at me sharply for an instant, rose, whistled a bar or two of
"Like Hermit Poor," reached down a couple of clay pipes from the shelf,
filled one for himself, and gravely handed the other with the tobacco to
me.

"Beyond what it is prepared to go," he echoed quietly, sinking back in
his chair and puffing at the pipe. "It's a nice point that we have been
discussing together, my flute and I, and I won't say but that I've got the
worst of it. By the way, what do you mean to do now that you have a
fresh start?"
Now I had not tasted tobacco for over four months, and its effect upon
my wits was surprising. It seemed to oil my thoughts till they worked
without a hitch, and I saw my plan of action marked out quite plainly
before me.
"Do you want to know the first step of all?" I asked.
"To be sure; the first step at any rate determines the direction."
"Well then," said I, very steadily, and staring into his face,