Fiction > Serialisations > London, 1896-1897 - St. Ives > Volume 13

ST. IVES. 103
liver-colour and pale blue, directed the proceedings with a mien of saturnine
preoccupation. He may have been calculating the receipts. As I squeezed to the
front, his underlings were shifting the pipe which conveyed the hydrogen gas, and
the Lunardi strained gently at its ropes. Somebody with a playful thrust sent me
staggering into the clear space beneath.
And here a voice hailed and fetched me up with a round turn.
" Ducie, by all that's friendly! Playmate of my youth and prop of my
declining years, how goes it ? "
It was the egregious Dalmahoy. He clung and steadied himself by one of
the dozen ropes binding the car to earth ; and with an air of doing it all by his
unaided cleverness— an air so indescribably, so majestically drunken, that I could
have blushed for the poor expedients which had carried me through the throng.
" You'll excuse me if I don't let go. Fact is, we've been keeping it up a bit
all night. Byfield leaves us— to expatiate in realms untrodden by the foot of man —
" The feathered tribes on pinions cleave the air ;
Not so the mackerel, and, still less, the bear."
But Byfield does it — Byfield in his Monster Foolardi. One stroke of this
knife (always supposing I miss my own hand), and the rope is severed : our
common friend scales the empyrean. But he'll come back — oh, never doubt he'll
come back !— and begin the dam business over again. Tha's the law 'gravity
Voiding to Byfield."
Mr. Dalmahoy concluded inconsequently with a vocal imitation of a post-horn ;
and, looking up, I saw the head and shoulders of Byfield projected over the rim
of the car.
He drew the natural inference from my dress and demeanour, and
groaned aloud.
" Oh, go away — get out of it, Ducie ! Isn't one natural born ass enough for
me to deal with ? You fellows are guying the whole show ! "
" Byfield ! " I called up eagerly, " I'm not drunk. Reach me down a ladder,
quick ! A hundred guineas if you'll take me with you ! " I saw over the crowd,
not ten deep behind me, the red head of the man in grey.
"That proves it," said Byfield. "Go away; or at least keep quiet. I'm going
to make a speech." He cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen —
I held up my packet of notes. " Here's the money, — for pity's sake, man !
There are bailiffs after me, in the crowd ! "
" the spectacle which you have honoured with your enlightened patronage
— I tell you I can't." He cast a glance behind him into the car "with
your enlightened patronage, needs but few words of introduction or commendation."
" Hear, hear ! " from Dalmahoy.
" Your attendance proves the sincerity of your interest "
I spread out the notes under his eyes. He blinked, but resolutely lifted
his voice.
" The spectacle of a solitary voyager "
" Two hundred ! " I called up.
" The spectacle of two hundred solitary voyagers — cradled in the brain of a
Montgolfier and a Charles Oh, stop it ! I'm no public speaker ! How the
deuce ? "
There was a lurch and a heave in the crowd. " Pitch oot the drunken loon ! "
cried a voice. On top of it I heard my cousin bawling for a clear passage. With
the tail of my eye I caught a glimpse of his plethoric perspiring face as he came