Free Lydia Trent by Abigail Blanchart Page A

still cold, and plied him with good things from the
tea-table, and valiantly set to work to draw him out. They made
polite enquiries about his health, his opinions of the village, about
his life in the Navy and his ship, and made but little headway.
However, it was evident that this reserve was the result of
diffidence, not of ill-nature, and eventually Adeline struck upon the
happy chance of playing for the gentlemen. Adeline was that rarity
among young ladies – she played for the love of music, not for the
love of display, and though many young women were superior musicians,
there was something about the girl's sweet, untrained voice and light
touch upon the keys which went straight to the heart of the
listeners. She tried one or two of those fashionable exercises in the
mathematics of harmony, which were politely applauded, and then lit
by chance on some sweet old song of her father's time. To the
surprise of all, at the second verse the Captain moved to the piano
and began to sing the second part, in a fine, clear, alto voice. The
voice cracked by the end of the song, but the ice was broken, and now
they could all talk of music, and the Captain spoke of fine concerts
he had heard in foreign ports, and was led on by degrees to forget he
was amongst strangers.

    How
surprised they all were to hear the hall clock strike, and realise
that two hours had slipped by! The captain was now issued with the
same open invitation as Alfred enjoyed, and retired to his lodgings
feeling in better spirits than he had for many a weary month. The
girls, too, felt their troubles a little lightened from being forgot
for a while, and were anxious to renew the aquaintance.

Chapter the
13 th

    Whilst
the young ladies have been making a new friend, the patient and
perspicacious 'Detective Dick' Dodds has not been idle.

    On
leaving his interview with the two girls, he repaired to the public
bar of the Crown, having learned, by long experience in his trade,
that the presence of beer and rum have a tendency to make men wax
loquacious. The worthy detective had a useful talent in this line, of
being able to unobtrusively nurse his own single glass of
brandy-and-water an entire evening, thus keeping a clear head and a
steady tongue whilst all around him heads grew fuddled and tongues
grew looser.

    In
the bar, he found it advantageous to assume the character of a man
who has just made a very good bargain, and thus inclined to be
sociable and hospitable. In this guise, he struck up and acquaintance
with a group of venerable elderly villagers, who were not averse to
being bought a bowl of punch. These gentlemen, by name George Handy,
Abel Metcalf, and Stephen Carter, I shall not go to the trouble of
describing, as their like can be seen in any public bar. Look for the
three aged rustics, usually sitting in the snuggest corner by the
fire, nursing their pints of ale or glasses of rum-and-hot-water,
eyes scanning the assembled company, on the alert for any passing
acquaintance who might be persuaded to stand them a drink, ears on
the alert for any scrap of gossip, which meat they strip from the
bone and chew over far more exhaustively than their elderly wives do
at their genteel little tea-drinkings.

    It
was this last propensity which made Mr Dodds heartily inclined to buy
these gentlemen, in whatever public house, in whatever corner of the
British Isles, a drink. For the modest outlay of half a bottle of
rum, hot water, lemons and sugar in proportion, he was sure to
receive a great deal of information. Much of it would be dross, to be
sure, but he was prepared to listen to a goodly amount of spoil in
order to get at the one golden nugget of useful information.

    The
other consideration of course, was that striking up and acquaintance
was the simplest thing in the world – a bowl of punch and an
expansive manner were as good to these old fellows as a letter of
introduction from a duke. These ceremonies of introduction having
duly been completed, Dick