Chapter 22: Luke.

I have only to point out that, despite the interruption, Miss Purvis continued in the same position, without making the slightest effort to disengage herself, to make it clear that she, to at least a certain extent, was unconscious of her surroundings. For my part I held her somewhat closer, so that I might act as a more efficient protection against I knew not what.

Glancing in the direction from which the voice had come I perceived that a distinctly disreputable individual had intruded himself, uninvited, into the room. He was a tall, shambling fellow, with a chronic stoop, extending even to the neighbourhood of his knees. His attire consisted of a variety of odds and ends, all of them emphatically the worse for wear. A dirty cloth cap, apparently a size too small, was stuck at the back of his head. His black, greasy hair formed a ragged, uneven fringe upon his forehead, reaching in one place nearly to the top of his long, pointed nose. His mouth was too wide for his face, which was narrow. As he stood there with it open, in what I presume he intended for a friendly grin, the fact was revealed that seemingly every alternate tooth in his head was missing. Even in that moment of agitation I could not help mentally noting that I had never seen such a collection of fangs in one man’s head before.

“What do you mean, sir, coming in without knocking?”

“What do I mean? That’s what I’m here to tell you. And as for knocking, I did knock, with my knuckles; but you was too much engaged to notice my modest knock; so, seeing the door was open, I just come in.”

“Then you’ll just go out again; and sharp’s the word.”

While the fellow was speaking, Miss Purvis, awaking, for the first time, to a sense of her delicate position, drew herself away from me. Turning, she stared at the intruder.

“Sharp’s the word, is it? That’s how it may be. Anyhow, it don’t apply to me, because I’m here on business.”

“Then come in business hours. I don’t receive clients at this time of day. Don’t you see that I’m engaged?”

“Engaged, are you? That’s as it should be. I congratulate you. Likewise the young lady, for having won so outspoken a young gentleman; and one that’s well spoken of, from all I hear.”

Whether the fellow was intentionally impertinent I could not tell. It was uncommonly awkward for both of us. Miss Purvis went scarlet. I felt like knocking him down.

“Now, then, out you go!”

“Softly! softly! You listen to me before the band begins to play. I don’t allow no one to lay hands on me without laying of ‘em back again.”

The fellow extended, to ward me off, a pair of enormously long arms. Observing them, I realised that if he would only hold himself upright his height would be gigantic. I am no bantam; yet as I considered his evident suppleness, and sinewy build, I thought it possible that in him I had met my match. Anyhow, I did not wish to indulge in a rough-and-tumble before Miss Purvis.

“Who are you? And what do you want?”

“What I want first of all is to know who you are. Are you Mr. Frank Paine?”

“I am.”

“I’m told that you’re making inquiries about a party named Batters; now I’m making inquiries about a party named Batters, too; and if you was to tell me what you know, I might tell you what I know.”

“You are quite right, I have been inquiring for a person of the name of Batters. And if you will come again, say, between ten and eleven, I shall be glad to hear what you have to say. By that time I shall be disengaged.”

“You’ll be disengaged, will you? That’s hard on the young lady. Engaged to her at seven, and disengaged between ten and eleven, all of the same day.”

“Look here, my man!”

“I’m looking, Mr. Paine, I’m looking; and I do hope I’m looking milder nor what you are. May I make so bold as to ask if this young lady’s name is Blyth?”