CHAPTER LIV. — “THE SHIP’S DROWNED.”
Rejecting all offers of refreshment—the meal which Constance had planned, and Judith prepared, both with so much loving care—Mr. Channing resolved to seek out Butterby at once. In his state of suspense, he could neither wait, nor eat, nor remain still; it would be a satisfaction only to see Butterby, and hear his opinion.
Mr. Huntley accompanied him; scarcely less proud than Hamish would have been, to walk once more arm in arm with Mr. Channing. But, as there is not the least necessity for our going to the police-station, for Mr. Butterby could tell us no more than we already know; we will pay a short visit to Mr. Stephen Bywater.
That gentleman stood in the cloisters, into which he had seduced old Jenkins, the bedesman, having waited for the twilight hour, that he might make sure no one else would be there. Ever since the last day you saw old Jenkins in the cathedral, he had been laid up in his house, with a touch of what he called his “rheumatiz.” Decrepit old fellows were all the bedesmen, monopolizing enough “rheumatiz” between them for half the city. If one was not laid up, another would be, especially in winter. However, old Jenkins had come out again to-day, to the gratification of Mr. Bywater, who had been wanting him. The cloisters were all but dark, and Mr. Ketch must undoubtedly be most agreeably engaged, or he would have shut up before.
“Now then, old Jenkins!” Bywater was saying. “You show me the exact spot, and I’ll give you sixpence for smoke.”
Old Jenkins hobbled to one of the mullioned windows near to the college entrance, and looked over into the dim graveyard. “‘Twas about four or five yards off here,” said he.
“But I want to know the precise spot,” returned Bywater. “Get over, and show me!”
The words made old Jenkins laugh. “Law, sir! me get over there! You might as well ask me to get over the college. How am I to do it?”