Jeffreys wisely avoided all expostulations or self-excuse. He smoothed the poor fellow’s pillow, and supported him in his arms till the cough was over and he could proceed. “It was a bad day you ever came to our school, John”—Jonah had adopted the name by which Jeffreys was known in Storr Alley—“I hated you the first time I saw you. You’ve got the laugh on your side now; but I can tell you you wouldn’t have had it then if you knew the way I followed you up. Yes”—and here came a shadow of his own sinister smile—“I made it all fit in like a puzzle. Did you never miss a letter you had that day you called at the York post-office—a letter about the dead burying their dead, and young Forrester? oh yes, you may start; I know all about it. I took that letter out of your pocket. And I know where you buried his body; do you suppose I didn’t see you throw yourself on the very place and say, ‘It was here’? You held your nose in the air, didn’t you, in the school, and palmed yourself off on Freddy and Teddy for a model? But I bowled you out. I showed you up. That was the day of my laugh. Now you’ve got yours.”
The cough again stopped him; and when he recovered his breath Jeffreys said quietly—
“Don’t talk, Jonah; you bring on your cough. Let me read to you.”
Then for the remainder of that day the story would rest; till later on Jonah would abruptly return to it.
“Mother believed in you, and cried a whole day after you had gone. Yes, and you’ll be glad to hear the school broke up all to pieces. Farmer Rosher took away his boys and spread a report about us; and at the end of a month we had scarcely a dozen urchins. Mother and I lived like cat and dog. I struck work, and she had to do everything, and it broke her up. It would never have happened if you hadn’t come into the place. I couldn’t live there any longer. Mother had a little bit saved, fifty pounds or so, and one night, after we had had a terrible row, I took every penny of it out of her money-box and came up to London. Now are you pleased? Hadn’t she something to bless you for? I say, John, get us some water quick, I’m parched!”
On another day Jeffreys heard the rest.
“I came up to London, but it wasn’t the fun I expected. Everybody I met I thought was a detective, and all night long I dreamed of my mother. I tried to drown it, and lived as wild a life as you like till my money was done. Then it would have been worth your while to see me. Everybody was against me. Fellows I’d stood treat to kicked me out into the street, and fellows who owed me money laughed in my face. I thought I’d go back to York after all and get mother to take me back; but when I came to start I couldn’t face it. That’s all. I stood it as long as I could. I pawned everything, and when that was done I stole—and got three months on the treadmill. How do you like that? When I got out, a city missionary heard of me and found me a job; but I stole again, and ran away. You wouldn’t have thought I had it in me at York, would you? I was a respectable young fellow there. But it was all there; and it was you brought it all out. Last week I made up my mind to put an end to it all. It took me a struggle to face it; but I was settled to do it—and then, as if you hadn’t done enough harm, you come and spoil my last chance.”
“Not your last chance, Jonah.”
“No. I’ve a week more to live. Then you’ll be rid of me. Who’s to save me then?”
“Some one, Jonah. We have both forgotten Him, but He’s not forgotten us.”