Basil and Annette: A Novel

by B. L. Farjeon

He took lodgings on the Lambeth side of Westminster Bridge, two modest rooms, for which he paid seven shillings a week; food would cost him little; his modest resources must be carefully husbanded, and he would be contented with the humblest fare. His task might take long in the accomplishment, and to find himself stranded in the City of Unrest would be fatal. His experiences had been so far valuable that they assisted him to a more comprehensive view of the circumstances of life. When he was in England he had thought little of the morrow. Now it had to be reckoned with.

In considering how he should set about his task, he had decided that it would be advisable to call in professional assistance. He had not arrived at this decision without long deliberation. He detested the means, but repugnant as the course was to him he felt that they were justifiable. Singularly enough he had, without being aware of it, taken lodgings in a house, the master of which belonged to the class he intended to call to his aid. He arrived at this knowledge on the second day of his tenancy. Children always attracted him, and his landlady had four, all of them boys, with puffy cheeks and chubby limbs. Their ages were three, five, seven, and nine, a piece of information given to him by their mother as he issued from the house on the second morning, and stood by her side a moment watching their antics. The word is not exactly correct, for their pastime was singularly grave and composed. The eldest boy wielded a policeman's truncheon, and his three brothers, standing in a line, were obeying the word of command to march, a few steps this way, a few steps that, to halt, and finally to separate and take up positions in distant doorways, from which they looked severely at the passers-by.

"Bless their hearts!" said the proud mother. "They're playing policemen."

"They seem to know all about it," remarked Basil "They ought to," responded the mother. "It was born in them."

"Is your husband a policeman?" asked Basil.

"He was, sir," replied the mother; "but he has retired from the force, and belongs now to a private inquiry."

Basil thought of this as he walked away, after patting the children on the head, who did not know exactly whether to be gratified at the mark of attention, or to straightway take the stranger into custody. He had not seen his landlord yet, and it had happened, when he engaged the rooms from the woman, that, with the usual carelessness of persons in her station of life, she had not asked her new lodger's name, being perfectly satisfied of his respectability by his paying her a fortnight's rent in advance, and informing her that he would continue to do so as long as he remained in the house. Basil was afraid, if he went to a regularly established private office, that the fees demanded would be higher than his slender resources warranted, and bent as he was upon economising, he saw here a possible opportunity of obtaining the assistance he needed at a reduced rate. Therefore on the evening of this day he tapped at the door of the sitting-room, in which his landlord was playing a game of "old maid" with three of his children, and intimated his desire for a little chat with the man after the youngsters had gone to bed.

"On business," said Basil.

"No time like the present, sir," said the landlord, who saw "with half an eye," as he subsequently expressed himself, that his tenant was a gentleman: "I'll come up to your room at once, unless you prefer to talk here."

"We shall be more private up-stairs," said Basil, and up-stairs they went to discuss the business.