Boardinghouses -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Murder -- Investigation -- Fiction; Mystery and detective stories
It was a dull journey, as Brendon was worried by a commercial traveler
who would talk politics. George put him off as civilly as possible,
and finally turned his prattle--for it was little else--to his own
advantage by asking for the whereabouts of Wargrove. It seemed that
the new town of Wargrove was the place where the train stopped, but
Old Wargrove was three miles distant, and it was there that the parish
church was situated. The commercial traveler followed up this
information with many details concerning the manners and customs of
the natives, which bored George to distraction. However, he listened
quietly, and paid as little attention as was consistent with
politeness. His officious companion watched for the station, and
roared out the name when the train stopped. George thanked him and
alighted, glad to be relieved of such a weary talker. And till the
train was moving the man leaned out of the window shouting directions
as to the best way to reach Old Wargrove.
As it proved there was no necessity for George to go there. Lola was
stopping in the policeman's house prior to her removal to the prison
at Chelmsford. Her attempt at robbery had been committed on the
previous day, and Brendon thought she would have already been removed.
However, he was informed that there was some delay owing to the
illness of the Chelmsford inspector, and therefore Lola would have to
remain in Wargrove for another twelve hours. Brendon was glad to hear
this, as it would save him a long journey. He thanked the policeman
who had explained, and was directed by the man to the house of his
superior officer, which was on the outskirts of the town. George soon
found a semi-detached house with a notice on it, and on knocking at
the door explained his errand to a brisk little woman. She pursed up
her lips, looked inquisitively at him with bright eyes, and called her
husband. The policeman was a burly, slow-witted, fat man who seemed
nervous on being asked for a sight of the prisoner, for such Lola was
to all intents and purposes. He did not want to exceed his duty.
George produced a sovereign, but the official, although his eyes
twinkled, hesitated to take the bribe. It was then that Mrs. Policeman
came to Brendon's assistance.
"Nonsense, Jeremiah," she said briskly. "Let the young gentleman see
his young lady. She's dying to have a sight of him."
"How do you know that she is my young lady?" asked George.
Mrs. Policeman nodded with her arms akimbo. "Why she's been crying out
in that foreign way of hers for George--George----"
"That is my name certainly."
"And you are her gentleman. She told me what you were like, and cried
all the time, poor soul. Tall, fair, with eyes of blue."
"It's all very well," grumbled Jeremiah. "But 'tis against the law."
"You can be present at our interview if you like."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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