The Greatest Thrillers of Fergus Hume. Fergus Hume. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Fergus Hume
Издательство: Bookwire
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Жанр произведения: Языкознание
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9788027237739
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which was carelessly twisted round her magnificent black hair. The face was of the true Romany type Oriental in its contour and hue, with arched eyebrows over large dark eyes, and a thin-lipped mouth beautifully shaped, under a delicately-curved nose. Face and figure were those of a woman who needed palms and desert sands and golden sunshine, hot and sultry, for an appropriate background; yet this Eastern beauty appeared out of the fog like some dead Syrian princess, and presented herself in all her rich loveliness to the astonished eyes of the old pawnbroker.

      "So you are the niece of my dead Hagar?" he said, staring earnestly at her in the thin yellow light of the candle. "Yes, it's true. She looked like you when I met her in the New Forest. What d'ye want?"

      "Food and shelter," replied the girl, curtly. "But you'd better shut the door; it might be bad for your reputation if any passer-by saw you speaking to a woman at this time of night."

      "My reputation!" chuckled Jacob, closing end bolting the door. "Lord! that's past spoiling. If you knew how bad it is, you wouldn't come here."

      "Oh, I can look after myself, Mr. Dix, especially as you're old enough to be my great-grandfather twice over."

      "Come, come! Civil words, young woman!"

      "I'm civil to those who are civil to me," retorted Hagar, taking the candle out of her host's hands. "Go on, Mr. Dix, show me in; I'm tired, and want to sleep. I'm hungry, and wish food. You must give me bed and board."

      "Infernal insolence, young woman! Why?"

      "Because I'm kin to your dead Hagar."

      "Aye, aye, there's something in that," muttered Dix, and dominated, in spite of his inherent obstinacy, by the imperious spirit of the girl, he led her into the dingy parlor. Here she removed her cloak and sat down, while Jacob, in an unusual spirit of hospitality, induced by the mention of his late wife, produced some coarse victuals.

      Without a word he placed the food before his guest; without a word she ate, and was refreshed. Jacob marveled at the self-possession of the gipsy, and was rather pleased than otherwise with her bold coolness. Only when she had finished the last scrap of bread and cheese did he speak. His first remark was curt and rude--designedly so.

      "You can't stay here!" said the amiable old man

      The girl retorted in kind: "I can, and I shall, Mr. Dix."

      "For what reason, you jade?"

      "For several--and all good ones," said Hagar leaning her chin on her hands and looking steadily at his wrinkled face. "I know all about you from a Romany chal who was up here six months ago. Your wife is dead; your son has left you; and here you live alone, disliked and hated by all. You are old and feeble and solitary; but you are by marriage akin to the gentle Romany. For that reason, and because I am of your dead rani's blood, I have come to look after you."

      "Jezebel! That is, if I'll let you!"

      "Oh, you'll let me fast enough," replied the woman, carelessly. "You are a miser, I have heard; so you won t lose the chance of getting a servant for nothing."

      "A servant! You?" said Dix, admiring her imperial air.

      "Even so, Mr. Dix. I'll look after you and your house. I'll scrub and cook and mend. If you'll teach me your trade, I'll drive a bargain with any one--and as hard and fast a one as you could drive yourself. And all these things I'll do for nothing."

      "There's food and lodging, you hussy."

      "Give me dry bread and cold water, your roof to cover me, and a bundle of straw to sleep on. These won't cost you much, and I ask for nothing more--Skinflint."

      "How dare you call me that, you wild cat!"

      "It's what they call you hereabouts," said Hagar with a shrug. "I think it suits you. Well, Mr. Dix, I have made my offer."

      "I haven't accepted it yet," snapped Jacob, puzzled by the girl. "Why do you come to me? Why don't you stay with your tribe?"

      "I can explain that in five minutes, Mr. Dix. We Stanleys are just now in the New Forest. You know it?"

      "Truly lass," said Dix, sadly. "'Twas there I met my Hagar."

      "And it is from there that I, the second Hagar, come," replied the girl. "I was with my tribe' and I was happy till Goliath came."

      "Goliath?" inquired Jacob, doubtfully.

      "He is half a Gorgio and half Romany--a red-haired villain, who chose to fall in love with me. I hated him. I hate him still!"--the woman's bosom rose and fell in short, hurried pantings--"and he would have forced me to be his wife. Pharaoh--our king, you know--would have forced me also to be this man's rani, so I had no one to protect me, and I was miserable. Then I recalled what the chal had told me about you who wed with one of us; so I fled hither for your protection, and to be your servant."

      "But Goliath--this red-haired brute?"

      "He does not know where I have gone, he will never find me here. Let me stay, Mr. Dix, and be your servant. I have nowhere to go to, no one to seek, save you, the husband of the dead Hagar, after whom I am named. Am I to stay or go, now that I have told you the truth?"

      Jacob looked thoughtfully at the girl, and saw tears glistening in her heavy eyelashes, although her pride kept them from falling. Moved by her helplessness, mindful of the wife whom he had loved so well, and alive to the advantage of possessing a white slave whom he could trust the astute ancient made up his mind.

      "Stay," said he, quietly. "I shall see if you will be useful to me--useful and faithful, my girl so, bread and bed shall be yours."

      "It's a bargain," said Hagar, with a sigh of relief. "And now, old man, let me rest in peace, am weary, and have walked many a long mile."

      So in this fashion came Hagar to the pawnshop; and it was for this reason that Vark, to his great astonishment, found a woman--and what is more, a young and beautiful woman--established in the house of Jacob Dix. The news affected the neighborhood like a miracle, and new tales were repeated about Dix and his housekeeper, who, report said, was no better than she should be. But Hagar did not mind evil tongues; nor did the old man. Without a spark of love or affection between them, they worked together on a basis of mutual interest; and all the days that Jacob lived Hagar served him faithfully. Whereat Vark wondered.

      It was not an easy life for the girl. Jacob was a hard master, and made her pay dearly for bed and board. Hagar scrubbed walls and floors; she mended such pawned dresses as required attention; and cooked the frugal meals of herself and master. The old pawnbroker taught her how to depreciate articles brought to be pawned, how to haggle with their owners, and how to wring the last sixpence out of miserable wretches who came to redeem their pledges. In a short time Hagar became as clever as Jacob himself, and he was never afraid to trust her with the task of making bargains, or with the care of the shop. She acquired a knowledge of pictures, gems, silverware, china--in fact, all the information about such things necessary to an expert. Without knowing it, the untaught gipsy girl became a connoisseur.

      It required all Hagar's patience to bear cheerfully the lot which she had chosen voluntarily. Her bed was hard, her food meager; and the old man's sharp tongue was perpetually goading her by its bitterness. Jacob, indeed,--sure of his slave, since she had no other roof save his to cover her,--exercised all the petty arts of a tyrant. He vented on her all the rage he felt against the son who had deserted him. Once he went so far as to attempt a blow; but a single glance from the fierce eyes of Hagar made him change his intention; and, cowed for once in his tyranny, Jacob never lifted his hand again against her. He saw plainly enough that if he once raised the devil in this child of the free gipsy race, there would be no laying it again. But, actual violence apart, Hagar's life was as miserable as a human being's well could be.

      Stifled in the narrow shop in the crowded neighborhood, she longed at times for the free life of the road. Her thoughts recalled the green woods, so cool and shady in summer; they dwelt on the brown heath lonely in the starlight, with the red flare of the gipsy fire casting fantastic shadows on caravan and tent. In the darkness of night she would murmur the strange words of the "calo jib," like some incantation to compel memory. To herself,