CHAPTER XX
THE BENEFACTOR
It was not till October that Captain Polkington was able to change the five pound note. This was really Julia's fault, she went so seldom into the town; he had once or twice suggested her doing so when she said they wanted this or that, but she never took the hint, and the note was still in his pocket-book. At last, however, the opportunity came.
A keeper's wife with whom Julia had got acquainted had promised her a pair of lop-eared rabbits if she could come and fetch them. She was not very anxious to have them, but Mr. Gillat was; he said they would be very profitable. Julia doubted this; but, since he wanted them, she said they would have them, and accordingly, one morning, they started together with a basket for the rabbits. They started directly after breakfast for they had to go a long way across the heath and could not at the best be back before two o'clock. Captain Polkington watched them go, standing at the cottage door until their figures were small on the great expanse of heather. Then he went in and, sitting down, wrote a hasty note to Julia; it was to the effect that he had been obliged to go into town, but would be back by dark or soon after. It read as quite a casual communication, as if he were in the habit of going into town frequently and had much business to transact. The Captain was rather satisfied with it; he felt he was doing the straightforward thing in telling Julia, his whole proceedings were open and above board. When he came back he should tell her all about the money, how it had been raised and how spent. She should have had the spending of it herself if only she had gone to town when he suggested it; as it was, he must do it; it was absurd to wait any longer; the weather was already cold; he must go, and bring her some pleasant surprise when he came back.
Satisfied with these reflections and feeling already the glow of beneficence, he dressed himself and set out for Halgrave. He had to walk to the village and there take the carrier's cart which went into town twice a week; he reflected, while he waited for the vehicle, how fortunate it was that Julia and Johnny had chosen to go for the rabbits to-day, one of the days when the carrier went to town. There were a good many bundles going by the cart, and two other passengers who were inclined to be too familiar until somewhat haughtily shown their proper place. The Captain was a little annoyed by this; and annoyed, also, to find that the carrier was not in the habit of starting on the return journey till rather late, later than the note would lead Julia to expect her father. But as the carrier was not one to change his habits for anybody, that could not be helped and Captain Polkington made the best of it. Julia was not likely to be anxious about him, he was sure; and since he was going to tell her all about his doings, it might as well be late as early. By this time he had quite got rid of any qualms—if he ever had them—about the method of getting and the intention of spending the note. He had almost forgotten that it had not always been his, and was quite sure that he was doing the right thing—for others as well as himself—in the difficult circumstances which seemed to beset him more than the common run of men. Cheered by these thoughts he endured the discomforts of the journey with moderate patience; he almost felt that he was suffering them in a good cause, for the sake of Johnny and Julia.
The town was large and the centre of a large district, not at all like the retired gentility of Marbridge, very much bigger and busier. Captain Polkington, who had lived quietly so long, felt rather lost and bewildered at first in the bustling intricate streets; there were so many people, especially among the shops, they were always getting in his way. He only made one purchase before lunch; he would have plenty of time in the afternoon, he thought, and would be better able to decide what to buy when he had seen things and had a meal. The purchase made before lunch was at the wine merchants, it was whisky.
He lunched at the best hotel; that and the whisky made a rather bigger hole in the five pound note than one would have expected. Still, as he told himself the whisky really was a vital matter with winter coming on, a necessity, not a luxury, for all of them—Johnny would be better for a little—he used to like a glass in the old days; and Julia would certainly be the better for it, working as she did in the cold. It was a medicine for them all, not himself alone. The lunch was the only personal extravagance and really, seeing what he was doing for the others, there was no need for him to grudge that to himself.
So he lunched and then the trouble began. He was not clear quite how it happened; at least, owing to the confusion there always was in his mind between facts as they were, as he wished them to be, and as they appeared in retrospect—he was never able to explain it thoroughly. There were other men lunching at the same time; he still had the Polkington faculty for making friends and acquaintances; he still, too, had the appearance and manner of a gentleman, if of somewhat reduced circumstances. He apparently made acquaintances; exactly how many and what sort is not certain, the account was very confused here. There was a whisky and soda in it, two whiskies and sodas, or even three; a cigar, a game of billiards—perhaps there was more than one game, or some other game besides billiards. At all events there must have been something more, for the Captain afterwards declared he was ruined in less than an hour, fleeced, cheated of his little all! It is quite possible that he was nothing of the kind, and that the acquaintances were perfectly honest and honourable men. They would not know he could not afford to lose, a true Polkington always set out to hide the reality of his poverty. And he was not likely to win, he seldom did, no matter at what he played or with whom; he was constitutionally unlucky—or incapable, which is a truer name for the same thing—it had always been so, even as far back as the old times in India. That day he lost at something, that at least was clear; then there was more whisky and soda and more losses, and perhaps more whisky again; and so on until late in the afternoon, he found himself standing, miserable and bewildered, in the main street of the town. Some one had brought him there, a good-natured young fellow who thought, not that he had spent all he ought, but that he had drunk all he should.
"Not used to it, you know," he had said with good-humoured apology; "been rusticating out of the way so long. Better come out and get a breath of air, it'll pull you together."
And he persuaded him out, walked some way down the street with him and then, seeing that he seemed all right, left him and went to attend to his own business.