Little Mr Bouncer and His Friend Verdant Green/Chapter 19
CHAPTER XIX.
LITTLE MR. BOUNCER IS TAKEN CAPTIVE BY DR. DUSTACRE.
ATCHING them from behind the safe concealment of dense laurels and tree-stems, young Winstanley saw Dr. Dustacre and little Mr. Bouncer walking from the house down the carriage-drive that led to the lodge; and he chuckled to himself at the thought how very much those two persons were deceived with each other. They had turned their backs on the real Simon Pure and were the mutual victims of a mistake, which, however ludicrous in its elements, was becoming a very serious matter to each of them.
Mr. Bouncer was still firm to his purpose of keeping his eccentric friend in good humour until he had seen him safe off the premises or housed at the Rectory, from whence he thought it highly probable that he had come to call at the Woodlands. By way, therefore, of starting a conversation that would be agreeable to the gentleman—whom, from his costume, he presumed to be a clergyman—he asked him if there were many fine churches in that neighbourhood?
"I really don't know," replied his companion. "You ought to be better acquainted with this part of the country than I am."
"But I never saw it till yesterday; and, from what you say, I suppose this is your first visit to these parts?" said Mr. Bouncer in his turn being the interrogator.
"To this particular parish it is; though I know other parts of the county at no great distance from here," was the answer.
"Are you staying at the Rectory?" asked Mr. Bouncer, boldly.
"No; why do you ask?"
"Curiosity, I suppose. Excuse my impertinence."
"Oh, I don't think it impertinent. On the contrary, I think it pertinent," said Dr. Dustacre with a laugh. Though he thought to himself—This poor young Winstanley is very shrewd; although his hallucination as to his not having been here for many years would appear to be firmly fixed in his mind.
At the same moment these thoughts were chasing each other through Mr. Bouncer's brain—I hope the old bald-pate is not going to cut up rough. I wonder where he 's hanging out? Perhaps he 's a parson, from some neighbouring parish, come to solicit a subscription from the Squire. Or he may be a deputation from some Parent Society, out on the loose, and wanting to hold a missionary meeting, or something of that sort. Having this impression on his mind, he firmly grasped his thick walking-stick as he thought—I must humour the old bald-pate and keep him civil: it is lucky that I have taken him out of Winstanley's way, for he might have alarmed the poor fellow and done mischief. Mr. Bouncer said, "Are you fond of missionary meetings, sir?"
Thought the Doctor to himself—How his mind wanders! I must humour him by answering his questions. "Well, I don't profess to any overweening attachment for them. I think that we ought to be able to do with out them; but I suppose they are necessary in our imperfect state of existence."
Little Mr. Bouncer thought to himself—Sold again! If he's a parson, he 's not a deputation.
By this time they had reached the tiny lodge. Mr. Bouncer held open the drive-gate, and signified by his action that he would there take leave of his companion; who, however, said to him, "Do you mind giving me the pleasure of your company just a little way along the road?"
Mr. Bouncer replied, "Certainly, if you wish it." But he thought—The woman at the lodge would not be of much use, except for screaming; and I don't know what excuse I could make for calling her. I only wish I 'd time to let Huz and Buz loose; they would have been some protection in case of accident, and would have worried the old bald-pate's pantaloons if he took it in his head to turn obstreperous. He 's the rummiest parson that I 've met for many a day.
So Dr. Dustacre and Mr. Bouncer, turning their backs on the tiny lodge, walked along the road by the skirts of a plantation that marked the boundary of Mr. Smalls' picturesque little park. In the plantation was a thick undergrowth of evergreens—laurel, box, and berberis—specially planted for the encouragement of the Squire's pheasants; and, stealing through these shrubs, young Winstanley might have been seen curiously watching the movements of Mr. Bouncer and his companion, while the dense thicket and its umbrage prevented him from being observed from the road. At the end of the plantation the road from the lodge came at right angles into another road; and, when the two temporary companions had turned the sharp corner, they saw a one-horse car pulled up by the side of the road with the horse's head in the direction that led to Poynton and Barham. The driver was in his place on the box, and a commonly dressed and powerfully built man was standing in the road, waiting by the side of the car. The road was much shaded by some tall trees, whose thick foliage made a screen on either side; and there was no farm-house or cottage to be seen.
"This is my conveyance," said Dr. Dustacre. "Perhaps you 'll take a little drive with me?"
"Well, if it's the same to you, I'd rather not," replied Mr. Bouncer. "You see I 'm expecting my friend and pitcher—I mean my friend and host—back to luncheon."
"Oh," said the Doctor, with a winning smile, bright as his own gold-mounted spectacles, "I am sure that Mr. Smalls, who is also a friend of mine, will readily excuse you, especially when he knows that you are in my company. So pray oblige me by getting into this car."
But little Mr. Bouncer could not see why the elder Mr. Smalls should be pleased at this act of elopement from the luncheon at which he had promised to be present; nor could he imagine what motive should constrain the mysterious individual in clerical dress, and with the bald head and hooked nose and gold-rimmed spectacles, to desire his company. And, for his own part, as he entertained very strong suspicions that, as he mentally expressed it—The old bald-pate had a tile off or a screw loose somewhere—he had considerable scruples for not desiring to take a country drive with him, immured in the narrowed limits of a car. The presence of a third person would not be altogether reassuring, even though he should prove to be a keeper from a lunatic asylum. For Mr. Bouncer thought—Is it possible that this old bald-pate had got away from this square-shouldered resolute looking party? If so, perhaps I had better humour him a little to prevent an outbreak.
These thoughts coursed rapidly through Mr. Bouncer's mind as the Doctor said, "Pray oblige me by accompanying me for a short drive! allow me to help you!" and, taking him by the arm and using some little strength, he forced, rather than guided, Mr. Bouncer to the car, the door of which was held open by the broad-shouldered man. Cabby, on the box, was regarding the scene with an unconcealed grin. Young Winstanley was also looking on from his covert of shrubs and trees, with a cunning smile on his face.
"After you! you get in first!" said Mr. Bouncer, taking the opportunity to tip an expressive wink to the broad-shouldered man, as though to say—If he can be got safely in, then you can see to him, and I can go about my business.
"Oh, no!" said the Doctor politely; "I could not think of it. You get in first, and I will follow you."
It struck Mr. Bouncer that the broad-shouldered individual had neither reciprocated his wink, nor made any movement towards assisting the old bald-pate into the car. He began to be suspicious. "Now, what do you
want me to be up to?" he added, as he grasped his stick; "and where do you want me to go, and why? I 'm generally game for anything, from pitch-and-toss to manslaughter; but I like to know the programme."
"It is a pleasant day for a country drive," said the Doctor in his blandest tones; "and I only want you to be good enough to take an agreeable little excursion with me. Pray be calm!"
"Calm!" echoed Mr. Bouncer. "I 'm as calm as a duck-pond. It 's you that are putting yourself about. I don't want to take a drive, because I 've other fish to fry; so I wish you good morning."
"Oh, don't go!" pleaded the Doctor, but in a very polite way; "do oblige me by getting into the car."
"Flatly, I won't!" said Mr. Bouncer; and he meant what he said, and he looked as though he meant it. That was quite enough for Dr. Dustacre.
"Brand!" said the Doctor quietly to the broad-shouldered man, "don't use more force than is necessary."
Little Mr. Bouncer could never exactly tell how it was done, for it was done so quickly and expertly; but, by a rapid flank movement, just as Mr. Bouncer was turning away, he was seized from behind by the individual addressed as Brand, who held him by his arms in such a way that the little gentleman was powerless, either to use his stick, or to show fight. He struggled and kicked; but it was all in vain; and, in another moment, he felt himself hoisted into the car.