He was no more like Sims Reeves than I am, but his was the first name I could think of.
'Sims Reeves!' says the porter; 'why that's young Mr Byrle, as gives his father no end of trouble. You wouldn't see him there, only the old gent is off somewhere for a while. He went from our station last night.'
'Indeed!' I said (and then I saw the young man go into the house); 'and what's the quarrel about?'
'Oh, his goings on,' said the railway man. 'Why, I have heard that his father has paid thousands on his account; and if he hadn't paid one time pretty heavily too, this young fellow would have been in Newgate for forging his governor's name. He's agoing abroad, I believe; and a good riddance too, I say.'
'And what does he do at the house when his father is away?' I asked; and I really felt that our conversation was getting quite interesting.
'Well, it's the old story; a lady's in the case,' said the porter. 'There's a niece there that's over head and ears in love with Mr Edmund—that's his name—and he pretends to be equally sweet on her. But if she had seen only as much of him as we have seen at this here station, she would never—— There's my foreman agoing into the shed! Excuse me.' With that the railway-man finished his pint and was off.
I considered a minute, and then decided I was as well off where I was as anywhere; so I borrowed yesterday's Morning Advertiser of the barmaid, and sitting down where I could watch the house, pretended to read. If any one had watched me, he must have thought I was most remarkably interested in the Money Market, for I had that part of the paper folded towards me without changing for a good half-hour. At the end of that time the door of Mr Byrle's house was opened and the son came out. I was ready for a start after him, let him go in which direction he might; but he came towards the Railway Tavern, my post; straight on, nearer, nearer he passed my door. I peeped out after him, and saw him actually come into the tavern, entering by another door the compartment of the bar next to mine!
I was in the common place; he was in one of those divisions where 'Glasses only are served in this department;' and so on. There was some one there already, for I had heard the occasional clink of a spoon and glass, and a cough; but there wasn't more than one, for I had heard no voices. I now heard some one speak; I judged it to be young Mr Byrle, and I was right.
'Hollo, skipper!' he said, 'what have you been doing to your face? Have you been fighting?'
'Fighting!—Well, never mind my face; I don't want to talk about that; I shall settle that account some day,' said a voice. (I knew what voice; I knew what was the matter with the man's face.)