At the hut door Tommy had given him the barest outline of the story, sufficient only to persuade Peter that he was indeed justified in accompanying the famished Tommy down the mountain-side. Now he elaborated those details, entered fully into the most miraculous history [Pg 297]of the last three weeks. And the story of Hugh’s confession filled Peter with a curious exultation. He saw, as Father O’Sullivan had seen, the fine way, the grand way, in which the past had been blotted out and his friend given back to him in spirit.
Tommy strode down the mountain joyous of heart, his honest freckled face fairly shining with pleasure. His whole further programme was already arranged—the wires to be sent, the breakfast to be eaten, the train to be caught that was to convey them swiftly back to town. The car and chauffeur could follow at their leisure.
Here, however, Peter demurred. It was all very well to tramp the road in this ridiculous garb, but return to civilisation attired as a mountebank—never! There were some things at which Peter drew the line, and he drew one here, and firmly. Tommy was prepared for him; he met and overruled each and every objection. Had Peter no other garments in that bundle he was carrying? What! only a dress suit? Tommy opened eyes of wonder. What on earth was the use of a dress suit to a wayfarer? Oh, of course, it was Peter’s own business if he liked to carry one [Pg 298]around the country in a bundle on his back for the mere pleasure of boasting to his soul that he possessed one. No, of course he couldn’t wear it up to town. Tommy didn’t propose that he should. But he—Tommy—had another suit at the hotel. Peter was much of his build; he’d take him to his room to change. During the process he’d dispatch telegrams. Then, Tommy presumed, he’d be allowed to have his breakfast, after which the train. He was obdurate on that point. Yes, Peter could have a bath if he liked—fifty baths, as long as he agreed to take the train at noon.
Thus planning, arranging, the hotel was reached. Tommy escorted Peter to his room, indicated a change of raiment and the bathroom opposite, then, bursting with excitement, proceeded to find the chauffeur and dispatch telegrams. Within ten minutes—such was his celerity of action—he was in the dining-room, had ordered a substantial breakfast, and was waiting with what patience he might for the appearance of Peter.
Peter, in the bathroom, was luxuriating in a sea of gloriously hot water, while Democritus kept guard without. Occasionally a wet black [Pg 299]nose was lowered to the crack beneath the door to sniff and wonder perplexedly at this new freak on the part of his master.
“It is certain,” remarked Peter, full length in the bath, and addressing himself to the ceiling, “that if I’d once indulged in the luxury of a good hot soapy bath in a private bathroom after leaving the jail, wild horses would never have dragged me to the roads. I’d forgotten—completely forgotten—the joy of it!”
But at last, with a mental picture of the famished Tommy before his mind, he reluctantly proceeded to dry himself and don decent habiliments.
Tommy greeted the entrance of Peter and Democritus with fervent enthusiasm, and without more ado they proceeded to make good headway with the substantial, steaming breakfast which forthwith made its appearance.
“Heavens!” cried Peter presently, pausing in the consuming of eggs and bacon, toast, marmalade, and coffee, “was there ever such a breakfast before? And have I once tendered you my thanks for coming in pursuit of me? The whole miraculous business, the entire blessed [Pg 300]kaboodle, seems to have upset my mental equilibrium and clouded my manners.”
“Bless the man!” cried Tommy, “don’t I understand?”