Part 16 (1/2)

”You never did!”

Admiration mingled with disbelief in the barmaid's voice. A little stir of interest went round the crowded, smoky room and someone called out:

”Lunnon, 'ave yer? Bin walkin' a bit, matey. Wot brought yer dahn 'ere? An' what're sailor men doin' in Lunnon, any'ow?”

”Wot most folks is doin' nowadays-lookin for a job!” replied Cleek, as he gulped down the second tankard and pushed it forward again to be replenished. ”Come from Southampton, we 'ave. Got a parss up to Lunnon, 'cause a pal told us there'd be work at the factories. But there weren't no work. Gawd's truf! What're sailormen wantin' wi' clorth-makin' and 'ammering' tin-pots? Them's the only jobs we wuz offered in Lunnon. I don't give a curse for the plyce.... No, Sammy an' me we says to each other”-he took another drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand-”we says this ain't no plyce for us. We'd just come over frum Jamaica-”

”Go on! Travellin' in furrin parts was you!” this in admiration from the barmaid.

”-and we ain't seein' oursel's turning inter land-lubbers in no sich spot as that. Pal told us there was a 'arbour down 'ere abahts, wiv a factory wot a sailorman might git work at an' still 'old 'is self-respec'. So we walked 'ere.”

”Wot energy!”

Black Whiskers-as Dollops had called him-broke in at this juncture, his thin mouth opening in a grin that showed two rows of blackened teeth.

Cleek twitched round sharply in his direction.

”Yus-wasn't it? An', funny enough, we've plenty more energy ter come!... But what the 'ell is this factory work 'ere, any'ow? An' any chawnce of a couple of men gittin' a bit er work to keep the blinkin' wolf from the door? Who'll tell us?”

A slight silence followed this, a silence in which man looked at man, and then back again at the ginger-headed lady behind the bar. She raised her eyebrows and nodded, and then went off into little giggles that shook her plump figure.

A big man at Cleek's left gave him the answer.

”Factory makes electric fittin's an' such-like, an' s.h.i.+ps 'em abroad,” he said, tersely. ”Happen you don't unnerstan' the business? Happen the marster won't want you. Happen you'll 'ave ter move on, I'm a-thinkin'.”

”Happen I won't!” retorted Cleek, with a loud guffaw.

”S'welp me, you chaps, ain't none uv you a-goin' ter lend a 'and to a mate wot's out uv a job? What's the blooming mystery? An' where's the bloomin' boss?”

”Better see 'im in the mawning,” supplemented Black Whiskers, truculently. ”He's busy now. Works all night sometimes, 'e does. But there's a vacancy or two, I know, for factory 'ands. Bin a bit of riotin' an' splittin' uv state secrets. But the fellers wot did it are gorn now”-he laughed a trifle grimly-”won't never come troublin' 'ere again. Pretty strict, marster is. But good work and good pay.”

”And yer carnt arsk fer more, that's wot I ses!” threw in Dollops in his shrill voice.

Now Cleek, all this time, had been edging more and more in the direction of Borkins and his sinister companion who were standing a little apart, but nevertheless were interested spectators of all that went on.

Having at last obtained his object, he cast about for a subject of conversation and picked the barmaid whose rallies met with the approval of the entire company, and who was at that moment carrying on a spirited give-and-take conversation with the redoubtable Dollops.

”Bit of a sport, ain't she, guv'nor?” Cleek remarked to Borkins, with a jerk of his head in the woman's direction. The butler whirled round and fixed him with a stare of haughty indignation.

”Here, you keep your fingers off your betters!” he retorted angrily, for Cleek had dug a friendly elbow into his ribs.

”Oh, orl right! No offence meant! Thought perhaps you wuz the boss, by the look of yer. But doubtless you ain't nuffink ter do wiv the factory at all. Private gent, I take it.”

”Then you take it wrong!” retorted Borkins, sharply. ”And I have something ter do with the factory, if you wants ter know. Like ter show your good manners, I might be able to get you a job-an' one for the little 'un as well, though I don't care for Londoners as a rule. There's another of 'em up at the place where I lives. I'm 'ead butler to Sir Nigel Merriton of Merriton Towers, if you're anxious to know who I am.” His chest swelled visibly. ”In private I dabbles a little in-other things. And I've influence. You men can keep your mouths shut?”

”Dumb as a blinkin' dorg!” threw in Dollops, who was close by Cleek's side, and both men nodded vigorously.

”Well, then, I'll see what I can do. Mind you, I don't promise nothink. I'll think it hover. Better come to me to-morrow. Make it in the evening for there's a h'inquest up at the Towers. My master's been copped for murderin' his friend, and I'll 'ave to be about, then. Ow'll to-morrow evening suit?”

Cleek drew a long breath and put out his hand. Then, as if recalling the superior station of the man he addressed, withdrew it again and remarked: ”You're a real gent, you are! Any one'd know you was wot they calls well-connected. Ter-morrow it is, then. We'll be 'ere and grateful for yer 'elp.... Wot's this abaht a murder? Fight was it? I'm 'appy at that sort of thing myself.”