Part 19 (2/2)
A NEW DEPARTURE
The question of packing was a very small matter altogether, and it was barely seven o'clock when, this finished, Cleek and Mr. Narkom had collected their coats and hats from the hat-stand, given Borkins the benefit of their very original ideas as to closing up the house and clearing out of it as soon as possible, each of them slipped a sovereign into his hand, and were standing talking a short while at the open front door. The chill of the evening crept into the house in cold breaths, turning the gloomy hall into a good representation of a family vault.
”All I can say,” said Cleek, chewing a cigar, his hands in his trousers' pockets, and his feet rocking from toe to heel, ”is-get out of it, Borkins, as soon as you can. I don't mind tellin' you, I'm jolly glad to be clearin' out myself. It's been a devilish uncanny business from first to last, and not much to my taste. Now, I like a decent robbery or a nice, quick-fingered forger that wants a bit of huntin' up. You know, even detectives have their particular favourites in the matter of crime, Borkins, and a beastly murder isn't exactly in my line.”
Borkins laughed respectfully, rubbing his hands together.
”Nor mine, sir,” he made answer. ”Though I must say you gentlemen 'aven't been a bit what I imagined detectives to be. When you first come down, you know, I spotted something different about you, and-”
”Ought to be on the Force yourself!” supplemented Cleek.
”And not such a bad callin' neither!” returned Borkins with a grin. ”But I knew you wasn't what you said you was, in a manner of speakin'. And if it 'adn't been for all this unpleasantness, it would 'ave bin a nice little change for yer, wouldn't it? Sorry to see the last of you, sirs, I am that. And that young gentleman of your'n. But I must say I'm glad to be done of the business.”
Cleek blew a cloud of smoke into the air.
”Oh, you'll have another dose of it before you're entirely finished!” he responded. ”When the case comes on in London. That's the ticklish part of the business. We'll meet there again, I expect, as Mr. Lake and I will be bound to give our evidence-which is a thankless task at the best of times.... h.e.l.lo! Dollops, got the golf-clubs and walking-sticks? That's a good lad. Now we'll be off to old London again-eh, Lake? Good-bye, Borkins. Best of luck.”
”Good-bye, gentlemen.”
The two men got into the taxi Dollops had procured for them, while that worthy hopped on to the seat beside the driver and gave him the order to ”Nip it for the eight o'clock train for Lunnon, as farst as you kin slide it, cabby!” To which the chauffeur made some equally pointed remark, and they were off.
But Borkins either did not realize that the eight-o'clock train for London was a slow one, or thought that it was the most convenient for the two gentlemen most interested, because he did not give a thought to the matter that that particular train stopped at the next station, some three miles away from Fetchworth. And even if he had and could have seen the two tough-looking sailormen who descended from the first-cla.s.s compartment there and stepped on to the tiny platform among one or two others, he would never have dreamed of a.s.sociating them with the Mr. Headland and his man Dollops who had such a short time ago left the Towers for London.
Which is just as well, as it happened, for it was with Borkins that Cleek and Dollops were most concerned. Upon the probability of their friends.h.i.+p with the butler hung the chance of their getting work. They had left Mr. Narkom to go up to London and keep his eyes open for any clues in the bank robberies case, and had promised to report to him as soon as possible, if there were anything to be gleaned at the factory. Mr. Narkom had expressed his doubts about it, had told Cleek that he really did not see how any human agency could possibly get Nigel Merriton off, with such appalling evidence to d.a.m.n him. And what an electrical factory could have to do with it...!
”You forget the good Borkins's connection with the affair,” returned Cleek, a trifle sharply, ”and you forget another thing. And that is, that I have found the man who attempted my life, and mean eventually to come to grips with him. That is the only reason why I did not speak at the inquest this afternoon. I am going to bide my time, but I'll have the beggar in the end. If working for a time at an electrical factory is going to help on matters, then work there I'm going to, and Dollops with me....
”If there should be need of me, don't forget that I am Bill Jones, sailorman, once of Jamaica, now of the Factory, Saltfleet. And stick to the code. A wire will fetch me.” He hopped out upon the platform just here, in his ”cut-throat” make-up-a little hastily done, for the time between the stations had been short-but excellent, nevertheless; then as Mr. Narkom gripped his hand, he put his head into the carriage again.
”My love to Ailsa if you see her, and tell her all goes well with me, like a good friend!” whispered Cleek, softly.
Mr. Narkom nodded, waved his hand, and then the two navvies swung away from the train, gave up their tickets to the porter-having procured third-cla.s.s as well as first for just this very arrangement-and after enquiring just how far it was to Saltfleet Bay, and learning that it was a matter of ”two mile and a 'arf by road, and a couple o' mile by the fields,” strode off through the little gate and on to the highroad. Just how adventurous their quest was going to turn out to be even they did not fully realize.
They reached the outskirts of the bay, just as a clock in the church tower half a mile away struck out nine, in deep-throated, sonorous tones.
To the right of them the ”Pig and Whistle” flaunted its lights and its noise, its hilarious laughter and its coa.r.s.e-thrown jests. Cleek sighed as he turned toward it.
”Now for it, boy,” he said softly, and then started to whistle and to laugh alternately, making his way across the cobbles to the brightly-lit little pub. Someone ran to the doorway and peered out at sound of his voice, trying to penetrate the darkness and discover who the stranger might be thus gaily employed.
Cleek sang out a greeting.
”Good evenin' to yer, matey! This 'ers's Bill Jones and 'is pal. 'Ow, I'll tyke the 'ighroad, and you'll tyke the laow road! and I'll be in Scotland afore yer'.... 'Ere, Sammie, me lad, come along o' me an' warm yer witals. I could drink the sea-strite I could!”
He heard the man in the doorway laugh, and then he beckoned to him to come along. And so they entered the ”Pig and Whistle,” and were greeted enthusiastically by the red-headed barmaid, while many voices went up to greet them, showing that already they had got on the right side of the men who were to be their fellow-workers.
”Gen'leman 'ere yet?” queried Cleek, jerking his thumb in the direction where Borkins had stood the night before. ”I've what you calls an appointment wiv 'im, yer know. And.... 'Ere the blighter is! Good evenin', sir. Pleased ter see yer again, though lookin' a bit pale abaht the gills, if yer don't mind my sayin' so.”
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