Devlin the BarberFarjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
General
Devlin the Barber
Farjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
Detective and mystery stories; English fiction -- 19th century
"As surely as we are in the same room together, through you. Receive
what I am about to say as the fixed resolve of a man who sees before
him a stern duty and will not flinch from it. Having come into
association with you, I am determined not to lose sight of you. I put
aside any further consideration of a strange and inexplicable mystery
in connection with yourself as being utterly and entirely beyond my
power to understand."
"My dear sir," said Devlin, with a glance at his shabby clothes, "you
flatter me."
"All my energies now are bent to one purpose, which, through you, I
shall carry to its certain end. You have made yourself plain to me. I
hope up to this point I have made myself plain to you."
"You are the soul of lucidity," said Devlin, "but much remains yet to
explain. For the sake of argument we have admitted an element of
romance into this very prosaic matter; for it is really prosaic,
almost commonplace. Life is largely made up of tragedies and
mysteries, the majority of them petty and contemptible, a few only
deserving to be called grand. As a matter of fact, my dear sir,
existence, with all its worries, anxieties, hopes, and disappointments,
is nothing better than a game of pins and needles. It is the littleness
of human nature that magnifies a pin prick into a wound of serious
importance. To think that some of these mortals should call themselves
philosophers! It is laughable. Do you follow me?"
"Not entirely," I replied, "but I have some small glimmering of your
meaning."
"Were your mind," said Devlin, shaking with internal laughter, "quite
free from the influence of that thousand pounds, it would be clearer.
In the grand Scheme of Nature, so far as mortals comprehend it, the
potent screw is human selfishness. These speculations, however, are
perhaps foreign to the point. Let us continue our amicable argument
until we thoroughly understand each other upon the subject of this
murder. You see, my dear sir, I wish to know exactly how I stand; for
despite the extraordinary opinion you have formed of me, it is you who
have assumed the _rôle_ of Controller of Destinies. I am but a mere
instrument in your hands." He measured me with his eyes. "You are well
built, and are, I should judge, a powerful man."
"You are contemplating the probability of a physical struggle between
us," I said. "Dismiss it; there will be none."
He made me a mocking bow. "My mind is, indeed, relieved. You do not
intend violence, then. I am free to leave the house if I wish--at this
moment, if I please. Have you taken that contingency into account?"
"I have."
"You will not attempt to detain me by force?"
"No."
"In such an event, how will you act?"
"I shall follow you, and to the first policeman I meet I shall say,
'Arrest that person. He is implicated in the murder of Lizzie
Melladew.'"
Devlin cast upon me a look of admiration. "That would be awkward," he
said.
"Decidedly awkward--for you."
"You would be asked to furnish evidence."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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