The Witchs Head | Page 3

Ernest, in the polite language of youth, opined that there would be hair
and toe-nails flying first.
To this sally, Jeremy Jones, for it was he, replied only by springing at
him, his hair streaming behind like a Red Indian's, and, smiting him
severely in the left eye, caused him to measure his length upon the floor.
Arising quickly, Ernest returned the compliment with interest; but this
time they both went down together, pummelling each other heartily.
With whom the victory would ultimately have remained could scarcely
be doubtful, for Jeremy, who even at that age gave promise of
enormous physical strength which afterwards made him such a noted
character, must have crushed his antagonist in the end. But while his
strength still endured Ernest was fighting with such ungovernable fury,
and such a complete disregard of personal consequences, that he was
for a while, at any rate, getting the best of it. And luckily for him, while
matters were yet in the balanced scales of Fate, an interruption occurred.
For at that moment there rose before the blurred sight of the struggling
boys a vision of a small woman--at least she looked like a woman--with
an indignant little face and an uplifted forefinger.
"O, you wicked boys! what will Reginald say, I should like to know? O,
you bad Jeremy! I am ashamed to have such a brother. Get up!"
"My eye!" said Jeremy thickly, for his lip was cut, "it's Dolly!"

CHAPTER II
REGINALD CARDUS, ESQ., MISANTHROPE
When Mr. Cardus left the sitting-room where he had been talking to
Ernest, he passed down a passage in the rambling old house which led
him into a courtyard. On the farther side of the yard, which was walled
in, stood a neat red-brick building one story high, consisting of two
rooms and a passage. On to this building were attached a series of low
green-houses, and against the wall at the farther end of these houses
was a lean-to in which stood the boiler that supplied the pipes with hot
water. The little red-brick building was Mr. Cardus's office, for he was
a lawyer by profession; the long tail of glass behind it were his
orchid-houses, for orchid-growing was his sole amusement. The tout
ensemble, office and orchid-houses, seemed curiously out of place in
the grey and ancient courtyard where they stood, looking as they did on
to the old one-storied house, scarred by the passage of centuries of
tempestuous weather. Some such idea seemed to strike Mr. Cardus as
he closed the door behind him, preparatory to crossing the courtyard.
"Queer contrast," he muttered to himself; "very queer. Something like
that between Reginald Cardus, Esquire, Misanthrope, of Dum's Ness,
and Mr. Reginald Cardus, Solicitor, Chairman of the Stokesly Board of
Guardians, Bailiff of Kesterwick, &c. And yet in both cases they are
part of the same establishment. Case of old and new style!"
Mr. Cardus did not make his way straight to the office. He struck off to
the right, and entered the long line of glasshouses, walking up from
house to house, till he reached the compartment where the temperate
sorts were placed to bloom, which was connected with his office by a
glass door. Through this last he walked softly, with a cat-like step, till
he reached the door, where he paused to observe a large coarse man,
who was standing at the far end of the room, looking out intently on the
courtyard.
"Ah, my friend," he said to himself, "so the shoe is beginning to pinch.
Well, it is time." Then he pushed the door softly open, passed into the

room with the same cat-like step, closed it, and, seating himself at his
writing-table, took up a pen. Apparently the coarse-looking man at the
window was too much absorbed in his own thoughts to hear him, for he
still stood staring into space.
"Well, Mr. de Talor," said the lawyer presently, in his soft, jerky voice,
"I am at your service."
The person addressed started violently, and turned sharply round.
"Good 'eavens, Cardus, how did you get in?"
"Through the door, of course; do you suppose I came down the
chimney?"
"It's very strange, Cardus, but I never 'eard you come. You've given me
quite a start."
Mr. Cardus laughed, a hard little laugh. "You were too much occupied
with your own thoughts, Mr. de Talor. I fear that they are not pleasant
ones. Can I help you?"
"How do you know that my thoughts are not pleasant, Cardus? I never
said so."
"If we lawyers waited for our clients to tell us all their thoughts, Mr. de
Talor, it would often take us a long time to reach the truth. We have to
read their faces, or even their backs sometimes. You have no idea of