Keggs greeted Steve with enthusiasm. He liked Steve, and it was just

possible that Steve might not have heard about the great upheaval. He

suggested a drink at a neighbouring saloon.

'We have not seen you at our house lately, Mr. Dingle,' he remarked,

having pecked at his glass of beer like an old, wise bird.

He looked at Steve with a bright eye, somewhat puffy at the lids, but

full of life.

'No,' said Steve. 'That's right. Guess I must have been busy.'

Keggs uttered a senile chuckle and drank more beer.

'They're rum uns,'

he went on. 'I've been in some queer places, but this beats 'em all.'

'What do you mean?' inquired Steve, as a second chuckle escaped his

companion.

'Why, it's come to an 'ead, things has, Mr. Dingle. That's what I mean.

You won't have forgotten all about the pampering of that child what I

told you of quite recent. Well, it's been and come to an 'ead.'

'Yes? Continue, colonel. This listens good.'

'You ain't 'eard?'

'Not a word.'

Keggs smiled a happy smile and sipped his beer. It did the old man

good, finding an entirely new audience like this.

'Why, Mr. Winfield 'as packed up and left.'

Steve gasped.

'Left!' he cried. 'Not quit? Not gone for good?'

'For his own good, I should say. Finds himself better off away from it

all, if you ask me. But 'adn't you reelly heard, Mr. Dingle? God bless

my soul! I thought it was public property by now, that little bit of

noos. Why, Mr. Winfield 'asn't been living with us for the matter of a

week or more.'

'For the love of Mike!'

'I'm telling you the honest truth, Mr. Dingle. Two weeks ago come next

Saturday Mr. Winfield meets me in the 'all looking wild and 'arassed, it

was the same day there was that big thunder-storm, and he looks at me,

glassy like, and says to me: 'Keggs, 'ave my bag packed and my boxes,

too; I'm going away for a time. I'll send a messenger for 'em.' And

out he goes into the rain, which begins to come down cats and dogs the

moment he was in the street.

'I start to go out after him with his rain-coat, thinking he'd get wet

before he could find a cab, they being so scarce in this city, not like

London, where you simply 'ave to raise your 'and to 'ave a dozen

flocking round you, but he don't stop; he just goes walking off through

the rain and all, and I gets back into the house, not wishing to be

wetted myself on account of my rheumatism, which is always troublesome

in the damp weather. And I says to myself: ''Ullo, 'ullo, 'ullo, what's

all this?'

'See what I mean? I could tell as plain as if I'd been in the room with

them that they had been having words. And since that day 'e ain't been

near the 'ouse, and where he is now is more than I can tell you, Mr.

Dingle.'

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