# The Joss: A Reversion/Chapter 22
### CHAPTER XXII.
#### LUKE.

I have only to point out that, despite the interruption, Miss Purvis continued in the same position, without making the slightest effort to disengage herself, to make it clear that she, to at least a certain extent, was unconscious of her surroundings. For my part I held her somewhat closer, so that I might act as a more efficient protection against I knew not what.
Glancing in the direction from which the voice had come I perceived that a distinctly disreputable individual had intruded himself, uninvited, into the room. He was a tall, shambling fellow, with a chronic stoop, extending even to the neighbourhood of his knees. His attire consisted of a variety of odds and ends, all of them emphatically the worse for wear. A dirty cloth cap, apparently a size too small, was stuck at the back of his head. His black, greasy hair formed a ragged, uneven fringe upon his forehead, reaching in one place nearly to the top of his long, pointed nose. His mouth was too wide for his face, which was narrow. As he stood there with it open, in what I presume he intended for a friendly grin, the fact was revealed that seemingly every alternate tooth in his head was missing. Even in that moment of agitation I could not help mentally noting that I had never seen such a collection of fangs in one man’s head before.
​“What do you mean, sir, coming in without knocking?”
“What do I mean? That’s what I’m here to tell you. And as for knocking, I did knock, with my knuckles; but you was too much engaged to notice my modest knock; so, seeing the door was open, I just come in.”
“Then you’ll just go out again; and sharp’s the word.”
While the fellow was speaking, Miss Purvis, awaking, for the first time, to a sense of her delicate position, drew herself away from me. Turning, she stared at the intruder.
“Sharp’s the word, is it? That’s how it may be. Anyhow, it don’t apply to me, because I’m here on business.”
“Then come in business hours. I don’t receive clients at this time of day. Don’t you see that I’m engaged?”
“Engaged, are you? That’s as it should be. I congratulate you. Likewise the young lady, for having won so outspoken a young gentleman; and one that’s well spoken of, from all I hear.”
Whether the fellow was intentionally impertinent I could not tell. It was uncommonly awkward for both of us. Miss Purvis went scarlet. I felt like knocking him down.
“Now, then, out you go!”
“Softly! softly! You listen to me before the band begins to play. I don’t allow no one to lay hands on me without laying of ’em back again.”
The fellow extended, to ward me off, a pair of enormously long arms. Observing them, I realised that if he would only hold himself upright his height would be gigantic. I am no bantam; yet as I considered his evident suppleness, and sinewy build, I thought it possible that in him I had met my match. Anyhow, I did not wish to indulge in a rough-and-tumble before Miss Purvis.
​“Who are you? And what do you want?”
“What I want first of all is to know who you are. Are you Mr. Frank Paine?”
“I am.”
“I’m told that you’re making inquiries about a party named Batters; now I’m making inquiries about a party named Batters, too; and if you was to tell me what you know, I might tell you what I know.”
“You are quite right, I have been inquiring for a person of the name of Batters. And if you will come again, say, between ten and eleven, I shall be glad to hear what you have to say. By that time I shall be disengaged.”
“You’ll be disengaged, will you? That’s hard on the young lady. Engaged to her at seven, and disengaged between ten and eleven, all of the same day.”
“Look here, my man!”
“I’m looking, Mr. Paine, I’m looking; and I do hope I’m looking milder nor what you are. May I make so bold as to ask if this young lady’s name is Blyth?”
“It is not.”
“I thought it couldn’t be. It wouldn’t hardly seem natural for a beautiful young lady like she is to be grafted from a stock like that. Lovely is what I call her, downright lovely.”
“Oh, Mr. Paine!”
Miss Purvis held out her hand. I took it.
“If you suppose because I have borne with you so far I will bear with you much further, you’re mistaken. If you take my advice, you’ll be careful.”
“That’s right, sir; that’s quite right. Careful’s the lay for me.”
“If you have anything to say, be quick about it.”
“Well, I do happen to have something which I wish to say, and that’s a fact; but as for quickness I’m afraid that I’m not naturally so quick as perhaps you might desire.” He stopped, to regard me with ​his bold, yet shifty eyes, as if he were endeavouring to ascertain what sort of person I might be. When he spoke again it was to put a question for which I was unprepared. “Where’s Batters?”
“Mr. Batters—if you are referring to the late Mr. Benjamin Batters—is dead.”
“Dead? Oh! Late, is he? Ah! He was the sort to die early, was Batters. Where might he happen to have died?”
“On Great Ka Island.”
“Great Ka Island? Ah! And where might that be?”
“On the other side of the world.”
“That’s some way off, isn’t it? Most unfortunate. I take it most uncivil of Batters to go and die in a place like that. Especially when I should like to have a look at his grave. You don’t happen to know where it is.”
“I do not, except that I have been given to understand that he was buried where he died.”
“That so? He would be. In the local cemetery, with the flowers growing all around. In a nice deep grave with a stone on top to keep him from getting out of it, and some words cut on it, like ‘He lies in peace.’ There’s no doubt about his lying, anyhow, I’ll take my oath to that.” He emitted a sound which might have been meant for a chuckle. It startled Miss Purvis. “You don’t happen to know when he died?”
“I do not know the precise date, but it was at any rate some three or four months ago.”
“That’s odd, very. Because, as it happens, I was with him some three or four months ago, and I never saw nothing about him that looked like dying. So far from dying, he was lively, uncommon; fleas wasn’t in it with the liveliness of Batters. And to think that he should have died with me looking at him all the time, and yet knowing nothing at all about ​it. It shows you that there is such things as miracles.”
“Do I understand you to say that three months ago you were in the company of Mr. Batters?”
“I was. And likewise four months ago. And I hope to be in his company again before long, dead or alive. It won’t be my fault if I’m not; you may go the lot on that.”
There was something about the fellow which struck me as peculiar; it was not alone his impudence, which belonged to another sort of singularity. There seemed to be a covert meaning in his manner and his words. I turned to Miss Purvis.
“If you don’t mind I think I will hear what this person has to say; it may be of importance to your friend. If you will allow me to leave you here, I think I may arrive quicker at his meaning if I am alone with him.”
She signified her consent. I led the way into the office. Without showing in any way that he objected, the stranger followed.
“Now my man, let us understand each other as clearly as we can, and keep to the point as closely as you are able. What’s your name?”
“Luke.”
“Luke what?”
“Luke nothing. I’m known to those who knew me best as St Luke, after the apostle, being of saintlike character, but in general Luke’s name enough for me. They was modest where I come from.”
“What are you?”
“A sailor man, late of the good ship Flying Scud.”
“The Flying Scud?” I stared at him askance, not certain that I had caught the name correctly. That particular ship seemed in the air. “Then do you know Captain Lander?”
As I asked the question his manner changed. It became suspicious. Thrusting his thumbs into his ​waistcoat armholes he eyed me warily, as if he had all at once been put upon his guard.
“Now how much do you know about it?”
“What do you mean? How much do I know about what?”
“What’s Captian Lander told you about me?”
“About you? To me Captain Lander has never so much as mentioned your name.”
A sudden wild thought came into my head. “Are you—are you Benjamin Batters?”
The fellow’s mouth opened so wide I could see right down his throat.
“Me Benjamin Batters! Good Lord! What made you ask me such a thing as that?”
“Are you? Are you?” As I watched I doubted more and more. “I believe you are.”
“I’m not. Good Lord! You ask Captain Lander if I am. You said yourself just now that he was dead and buried.”
“And you hinted that he was not, but that he was still alive.”
Putting his hand up to his brow he brushed the fringe of hair partially aside, glancing furtively about the room.
“That’s as may be; that’s another matter altogether. But I don’t like your asking me if I was Batters. No man would. Have you ever seen him?”
“Never; unless I see him now.”
“Meaning me? I never came across such a man. What do you mean by keeping on asking if I’m Batters? What are you driving at? I won’t have it, whatever it is. Why Batters——” He stopped: then second thoughts appearing best, changed from heat to cold. “Batters was not my sort at all.”
The man’s manner puzzled me.
“What was there about Benjamin Batters which makes you resent any comparison with him?”
​He hesitated, putting up his fingers to scratch his head, visibly perturbed.
“Excuse me, but I came here to put a question or two, not to answer any. If you’d told me at the first that Captain Lander was a friend of yours, I should have taken myself off straightway, like as I’m going to now.”
I stepped between him and the door.
“No you don’t. You stopped at the beginning to please yourself; now you’ll remain a little longer to please me. Before you leave this room you’ll give me satisfactory answers to one or two questions.”
“Who says I will?”
“I do. If you decline I send for a policeman. Then I think you’ll find yourself in Queer Street.”
His disturbance obviously increased.
“Now, Mr. Paine, I’ve done nothing to you to make you behave nasty to me. If I made a mistake in coming here to make a few inquiries I apologise, and no man can do more than that, so there’s no harm done to either side.”
“Was Batters your shipmate?”
“My shipmate?”
“Was he an officer or member of the crew on board The Flying Scud?”
“My gracious, no!”
“He was on The Flying Scud?”
“He might have been.”
“As passenger?”
“The Flying Scud’s a cargo boat; she don’t carry no passengers.”
“If he was neither officer, sailor, nor passenger, in what capacity was he there?”
“You ask Captain Lander, he was in command, not me. I’ve had enough of this bullyragging. You let me go before there’s trouble.”
“Gently, my man, gently! Now, come, be frank ​with me. What is the mystery about Benjamin Batters? I see there is one.”
“That’s more than I can tell you, straight it is. I wish it wasn’t. If you was to ask me I should say he was all mystery, Batters was.”
“I suppose he was a man?”
“A man?” The inquiry, suggested by the fashion in which he persisted in shuffling with my questions, had an odd effect upon my visitor. He glanced from side to side, and up and down, as if desirous, at any cost, to avoid meeting my eye. “It depends on what you call a man.”
“You know very well what I call a man. Was he a man in the sense that you and I are men?”
He shuddered.
“The Lord forbid that I should be in any way like him; the Lord forbid!”
“I observed him narrowly, at a loss to make him out. That there was something very curious about Benjamin Batters I was becoming more and more persuaded. I had as little doubt that my visitor had at least some knowledge of what it was. Equally obvious, however, was the fact that he had reasons of his own for concealing what he knew. How I could compel him to make a confidant of me against his will I failed to see. I tried another tack.
“You say that you were in Batters’ company three months ago.”
“I might have been.”
“How long ago is it since you last saw him?”
“I couldn’t exactly say.”
“Where did you last see him?”
“Where?” He looked round and round the room, as if seeking for information. Then the fashion of his countenance changed, an ugly look came on it. “I’m not going to tell you when I saw him last, nor where. It’s no business of yours. You mind your own business, and leave mine alone. And as for your ​policeman, I don’t care for no policeman. Why should I? I’m an honest man. So you get out of my way and let me pass; and that’s all about it.”
“Have you seen Benjamin Batters within the month?”
“Never you mind!”
“Your words are a sufficient answer. I believe that you have been conspiring with Benjamin Batters with fraudulent intent. If you do not furnish me with abundant proof that my suspicions are unfounded I shall summon a constable, and give you into custody upon that charge.”
It was a piece of pure bluff upon my part, which failed.
“That’s the time of the day, is it? I’ve been conspiring with him, have I? What have I been conspiring about?”
“I have no doubt that that is a point on which Captain Lander will be able to show more than sufficient light.”
My words had at last struck home. What lent them especial weight I could not even guess. But that they had moved him more than anything which had gone before his behaviour showed.
“He will, will he? So that’s the game you’re after. You’re a lawyer, and I’m a poor, silly sailor man, so you think you can play just what tricks with me you please. But there’s something else Captain Lander can tell you if you ask him, and that’s that I can be disagreeable when I’m crossed, and if you don’t move away from that door inside a brace of shakes I’m going to be disagreeable now.”
“Don’t threaten me, my man.”
“Threaten?”
His tone suggested that he scorned being thought capable of threatening only, and his action proved it.
He came at me with a suddenness for which I was unprepared. Putting his arms about me while I was ​still unready he lifted me off my feet. As he was still holding me aloft, crooking my leg inside his, I bore on him with all my might, and brought him with a crash to the floor. Although he lay underneath, his arms still retained their grip.
While I hesitated whether to attack the man in earnest or to remonstrate with him instead—for Miss Purvis might at any moment look in, and then a nice opinion she would have of me—someone standing behind slipped what seemed to be a cord over my head, and drew it so tight about my throat that in an instant I was all but choked. When, gasping for breath, I put up my hand to free myself, it was drawn still tighter. So tight indeed that not only did it cut like a knife, but I felt as if my tongue was being torn out of my mouth, and I lost all consciousness.