"Well, Westmacott, I am sure I am very much obliged to you," said the
Admiral. "You have stood by me when I was the better for a little help,
for I'm clean out of my soundings among these city sharks. But I've
something to do now which is more in my own line, and I need not trouble
you any more."
"Oh, it is no trouble. I have nothing to do. I never have anything to
do. I don't suppose I could do it if I had. I should be delighted to
come with you, sir, if I can be of any use."
"No, no, my lad. You go home again. It would be kind of you, though, if
you would look in at number one when you get back and tell my wife that
all's well with me, and that I'll be back in an hour or so."
"All right, sir. I'll tell her." Westmacott raised his hat and strode
away to the westward, while the Admiral, after a hurried lunch, bent his
steps towards the east.
It was a long walk, but the old seaman swung along at a rousing pace,
leaving street after street behind him. The great business places
dwindled down into commonplace shops and dwellings, which decreased and
became more stunted, even as the folk who filled them did, until he was
deep in the evil places of the eastern end. It was a land of huge,
dark houses and of garish gin-shops, a land, too, where life moves
irregularly and where adventures are to be gained--as the Admiral was to
learn to his cost.
He was hurrying down one of the long, narrow, stone-flagged lanes
between the double lines of crouching, disheveled women and of dirty
children who sat on the hollowed steps of the houses, and basked in
the autumn sun. At one side was a barrowman with a load of walnuts, and
beside the barrow a bedraggled woman with a black fringe and a chequered
shawl thrown over her head. She was cracking walnuts and picking them
out of the shells, throwing out a remark occasionally to a rough man in
a rabbit-skin cap, with straps under the knees of his corduroy trousers,
who stood puffing a black clay pipe with his back against the wall. What
the cause of the quarrel was, or what sharp sarcasm from the woman's
lips pricked suddenly through that thick skin may never be known, but
suddenly the man took his pipe in his left hand, leaned forward, and
deliberately struck her across the face with his right. It was a slap
rather than a blow, but the woman gave a sharp cry and cowered up
against the barrow with her hand to her cheek.
"You infernal villain!" cried the Admiral, raising his stick. "You brute
and blackguard!"