My Friend Smith

Jack said that evening he thought it was a pity I had said as much as I had, and further reflection made me think the same. However, it couldn't be helped now, and anything that made clear the estimation in which I held Masham was on the whole no bad thing.

That evening when we got back we found Mr Smith at home. He had come, he said, to insist on taking Jack's place with Billy for the night.

Jack protested in vain that he felt quite fresh, that he was not in the least sleepy, and so on. Mr Smith was inexorable for once, so we had finally to retire together to the room downstairs, and leave him in possession.

As we said good-night he gave me a look which I well understood.

"It's awful nonsense," said Jack, "making out I want sleep. Why, I've slept most of every night I've been up there. I'm sure more than he has."

"He thinks a good deal about you, Jack, I fancy," said I, anxious to steer the talk round in the required direction. Jack nodded and went and opened the window.

"It's awfully close to-night," said he.

We stood leaning out of the window for some minutes, watching the few pa.s.sengers in the street below and saying nothing. What Jack was thinking about I could not tell. What was pa.s.sing through my mind I knew well enough.

"How do you think he seems?" asked I, after a long pause.

"Who, Billy? He's getting on wonderfully."

"I didn't mean Billy," said I. "I meant Mr Smith."

"Oh, you ought to know better than I do. I really have hardly seen him the last few days. I've not heard him cough so much, though."

"He's not been himself at all the last few days," I said.

"No wonder," said Jack. "That night's work was enough to upset anybody."

"Oh, I don't mean in that way," I said, feeling hopeless as to ever getting out my secret. "Though I am sure he was very much concerned about Billy. But he seems to have other things on his mind too."

"Has he? He works too hard, that's what it is; and not content with that," added he, "he insists on sitting up all night with Billy."

There was another pause.

I must be more explicit, or I should never get out with it.

"Do you know, Jack," said I presently, "he's been telling me a good deal of his history lately?"

"Oh," said Jack, "you two have got to be quite chummy. By the way, we ought to hear the result of the exam, on Tuesday, certainly."

"It is very strange and sad," said I, thinking more of what was in my mind than of what he was saying.

"What _do_ you mean? They oughtn't to take more than a week surely to go through the papers."

"Oh, I wasn't talking about that," I said. "I was thinking of Mr Smith's story."

"Why, what's up with you, Fred? You've gone daft about Mr Smith, surely. What's strange and sad?"

"The story of his life, Jack. He was once--"

"Stop," said Jack, firmly. "I dare say it's all you say, Fred, but I'd rather you didn't tell it me."

"Why not?" I said.

"He told it to you, but not to me. If he wants me to know it, he will tell me himself."

I could not but feel the rebuke. Had I but been as careful of another secret, half my troubles would never have come upon me.

"You are quite right, Jack," I said. "I know by this time that I should have no business to tell other people's secrets. But, as it happens, Mr Smith is anxious for me to tell you his story; and that is the reason, I believe, why he has insisted on leaving us together to-night."

I had launched my s.h.i.+p now!

Jack looked at me in a puzzled way.

"Wants you to tell me his story?" he repeated.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"He has a reason. I think you had better hear it, Jack."

Jack was no fool. He had wits enough to tell him by this time that in all this mysterious blundering talk of mine there was after all something more serious than commonplace t.i.ttle-tattle. My face and tone must have proved it, if nothing else did.

He remained leaning out of the window by my side as I told him that story in words as near those of Mr Smith himself as I could recall.

He interrupted me by no starts or exclamations, but remained silent, with his head on his hands, till the very end.

Indeed, he was so still after it was all told that for a moment I felt uneasy, lest he was taken ill.

But presently he looked up, with his face very pale, and said, "I can scarcely believe it, Fred."

There was nothing in his tone or look to say whether the disclosure came to him as good news or bad. I longed to know, but I dared not ask. A long silence followed. He sat down on a chair with his face turned from me. I felt that to say another word would be a rude disturbance.

After a while he rose and said, in a voice very low and trembling, "I'll go up stairs, Fred."

"No," said I, taking his arm and gently leading him back to his chair.

"I'll go up, old boy, and look after Billy to-night."

He did not resist, and I hastened up.

Mr Smith met me at the door with anxious face.

"Well?" he inquired, in a voice which trembled as much as Jack's had done.

"He knows all," I said.

"Yes? and--"

"And he is downstairs, expecting you," I said.