Detective and mystery stories; England -- Fiction; Journalists -- Fiction; Murderers -- Fiction
“Well, considerin’ as it was me took it when I came back to get my
pipe, I ought ter know,” he answered, and then, with a sudden change of
manner, “Look ’ere, Watson, or whatever yer name is, I think us two can
do a deal together. Yer want to get ’old of ’Enery Jeanes, don’t yer?”
I nodded.
“Supposin’ I knew where ’e was to be found at this very minute, wot ’ud
yer give me for the hinformation?”
“Ten pounds,” I answered.
He snorted.
“Can’t be done under twenty, ready money. Give us yer twenty and I’ll
tell yer.”
“No,” I said. “Take me to where Jeanes is to be found, wherever it is,
and I’ll give you, not twenty, but fifty pounds, as soon as I’m sure it
is the right man. I swear it, so help me God! and I won’t go back on my
word.”
His eyes sparkled.
“Yer a gentleman, I b’lieve,” he said, “and I’ll trust yer. But yer
must keep my name out of it. Now listen. When I went down the stairs to
get that ’arf-pint I met Jeanes a-comin’ up for ’is letters. I guessed
it was ’im yer was after, and I wasn’t going to ’ave no harrests nor
rows in my shop. Besides, if yer wanted ’im bad, I guessed yer’d be
willin’ to drop money on it and if there was any money to be dropped I
didn’t see why I shouldn’t be the one to pick it up.”
Here was news, indeed! If the Professor was to be believed--and,
notwithstanding my recent experience, I failed to see what motive he
could have for misleading me in this instance--the man I was in search
of had been in the town, and in that very house, scarcely more than two
hours ago! And I had been sitting there idly, when every moment, every
second, was precious!
“Go on! go on!” I said excitedly. “Tell me the rest as fast as you can.
There’s not a moment to spare. I’ll see you don’t lose by it.”
He nodded and continued, but still in the same leisurely way.
“Well, I harsked Jeanes to wait while I fetched the letter. That’s wot
I came back to get my pipe for. Yer remember I took the letters down
and pretended to count ’em? Well, I sneaked it then and gave it ’im.
He gave me a sovereign, and said there wouldn’t be any more letters
comin’ for ’im, and ’e shouldn’t be calling at the shop no more. Then
’e harsked me wot time the next train left for London, and I told ’im
in a quarter of an hour, and ’e said that wouldn’t do, as ’e ’adn’t ’ad
no lunch and was starvin’ ’ungry. So I told ’im there wasn’t another
for two hours and a ’arf, and ’e said that would do capital, and where
was the best place to get dinner. I told ’im the Railway Hotel, and ’e
went there, ’cos I followed him to make sure. Then I whipped back and
played that little game on yer just to make sure it _was_ Jeanes yer
wanted. And now I guess that fifty pounds is as good as mine. Jeanes’ll
be at the hotel now, or if ’e’s left there we can make sure of ’im
at the station when ’e catches the London express. Wot d’ yer want
him for? Looks a ’armless, pleasant kind of bloke, and very pleasant
spoken.”
“What’s he like?” I said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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