The result of this swift stroke of justice was a mortal enmity against Abel Death. He proclaimed a vendetta, and waited for his chance, meanwhile avenging himself by kicking and cuffing the younger members of the Death family when he met them, and encouraging his children to do the same. The chance came with the disappearance of Abel Death and the discovery of the murder of Samuel Boyd. Forthwith he set light to a fire which spread with startling rapidity, and he went about instilling his poison into the ears of Mrs. Death's neighbours. Hence her agony of mind.
Dick traced the rumours to their fountain head, found the man, talked to him, argued with him--in vain. It was a public matter, and the usual crowd collected.
"Look 'ere," cried the coster, to Dick, "we don't want none o' your
cheek, we don't. Who are you, I'd like to know, puttin' your spoke in? A innercent man, is 'e? Looks like it, don't it? Wot's the innercent man a-keepin' out of the way for? Why don't 'e come 'ome? Tell me that? 'Ere, I'll wait till you've made up somethink, somethink tasty, yer know. Take yer time. Wot! Ain't got a bloomin' word to say for yerself? Wot do you think?" Appealing to the people surrounding them. "'E's a nice sort o' chap to come palaverin' to me, ain't 'e?"
The listeners were not all of one mind, many of them, indeed, being mindless. Some took one side, some took another, while Mrs. Death and Gracie stood by, pitiful, white-faced spectators of the scene.
"Why, it's as clear as mud," continued the coster. "The sneakin' thief killed 'is master, and then laid 'ands on everythink 'e could collar, and cut away. Put them things together, and there you are, yer know."
"I know where you'll be," said Dick, speaking in his best judicial manner, "if you're not careful. It won't be the first time you've got yourself in trouble." The shot told, and the listeners wavered. "We're Englishmen, I believe," said Dick, following up his advantage. "We don't carry knives like the Italians, or fight with our legs like the French, and we're not made in Germany." This cosmopolitan reference was an immense hit, and two or three politicians said "Hear, hear!" Dick went on. "We fight with our fists, and we don't hit a man when he's down. What we insist upon is fair play; that's what we wave our flag for--fair play. Look at Mrs. Death, a hard-working, respectable woman, that's lived among you all these years, and never done one of you an ill turn. Look at her innocent children that this great hulking brute is flinging stones at. It's cowardly, sneaking work. Oh, I'm not afraid of you, my man; if you lift your hand against me I'll give you something to remember me by. You haven't the pluck to hit one of your own size; you only hit women and children. I don't believe you've got a drop of English blood in your cowardly carcase." With sparkling eyes and glowing face he turned to the crowd. "I appeal to a jury of English men and women. Is what this brute is doing manly, is it fair, is it English--that's the point, is it English?"
There was no doubt now as to the sympathy. It went out full and free to Mrs. Death and Gracie, who stood, as it were, in the dock, with the beetle-browed, sodden-faced coster accusing them, and this generous, bright-eyed, open-faced young fellow defending them. A woman who had a good recollection of the cherry incident, called out, "Cherries!" and they all began to laugh. This laughter completely settled the matter; the victory was won. The coster slunk off.
Dick was overwhelmed with congratulations, and Mrs. Death cast grateful glances at him, and wistful glances at her old friends and neighbours. They answered the mute appeal by thronging about her. To her they said, "Never you mind, my dear, we'll see you righted." And to Dick, "You spoke up like a man, sir, and we're proud of you." Which he capped, rather vaguely, by retorting, "I'm proud of you. You're the sort of women that have made England what it is. Wives and mothers, that's what you are." A shrill voice called out, "Not all of us, sir," amid shouts of laughter, which caused Dick to add, "Then I hope you soon will be." This happy rejoinder won him the admiring glances of all the single women, many of whom (as yet unattached) breathed silent aspirations that heaven would send them such a man. At the worst of times Dick was a good-looking young fellow; seen now at his best, glowing with fervour, and espousing the cause of the weak, he was positively handsome. What wonder that maiden hearts were fluttering! He could have picked and chosen.
Dr. Vinsen had been an amused witness of the encounter.
"My young friend," he said, "my dear young friend, victorious again, always victorious; and in eloquence a Demosthenes. Accept my congratulations. Mrs. Death, take your little girl home and put her to bed, then apply a hot linseed poultice. I will call upon you to-morrow morning. Mr. Dick Remington--pardon the familiarity, but Dick is so appropriate--I salute you--sal-ute you."