England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Short stories, English
To see Abel Crew arriving in the custody of old Jones the constable, the
excited stragglers after them, astonished Piefinch Cut not a little.
Figg the pawnbroker--who was originally from Alcester--considered
himself learned in the law. Anyway, he was a great talker, and liked to
give his opinion upon every topic that might turn up. His shop joined
Dovey's forge: and when we arrived there, Figg was outside, holding
forth to Dovey, who had his shirt-sleeves rolled up above his elbows as
usual, his leather apron on. Mrs. Dovey stood listening behind, in the
smart gown and red-ribboned bonnet she had worn at the inquest.
"Why--what on earth!--have they been and gone and took up Crew?" cried
Figg in surprise.
"It is an awful shame of old Jones," I broke in; speaking more to Dovey
than Figg, for Figg was no favourite of mine. "A whole week of the
lock-up! Only think of it, Dovey!"
"But have they brought it in again' him, Master Johnny?" cried Dovey,
unfolding his grimy arms to touch his paper cap to me as he spoke.
"_No_; that's what they have not done. The inquest is adjourned for a
week; and I don't believe old Jones has a right to take him at all. Not
legally, you know."
"That's just what her brought word," said Dovey, with a nod in the
direction of his wife. "'Well, how be it turned, Ann?' says I to her
when her come back--for I'd a sight o' work in to-day and couldn't go
myself. 'Oh, it haven't turned no ways yet, Jack,' says her; 'it be put
off to next week.' There he goes! right in."
This last remark applied to Abel Crew. After fumbling in his pocket for
the two big keys, tied together with string, and then fumbling at the
latch, old Jones succeeded in opening the door. Not being much used, the
lock was apt to grow rusty. Then he stood back, and with a flourish of
hands motioned Abel in. He made no resistance.
"They must know for certain as 'twere his pills what done it," struck in
Mrs. Dovey.
"No, they don't," said I. "What's more, I do not think it was his pills.
Abel Crew says he never put poison in his pills yet, and I believe him."
"Well, and no more it don't stand to reason as he would, Mr. Ludlow,"
said Figg, a man whose self-complaisance was not to be put down by any
amount of discouragement. "I were just a-saying so to Dovey---- Why have
old Jones took him up?" went on Figg to Gibbon the gamekeeper, who came
striding by.
"Jones says he has the coroner's orders for it," answered Gibbon.
"Look here, I know a bit about law, and I know a man oughtn't to be shut
up till some charge is brought again' him," contended Figg. "Crew's
pills is suspected, but he have not been charged yet."
"Anyway, it's what Jones has gone and done," said Gibbon. "Perhaps he is
right. And a week's not much; it'll soon pass. But as to any pills of
Abel Crew's having killed them children, it's just preposterous to think
of it."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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