Detective and mystery stories; London (England) -- Fiction; Murder -- Investigation -- Fiction
"I'm coming to it," grumbled Berry Jawkins. "On the night of the
twenty-first I was in the bar. Business was bad that evening,
gentlemen, and there was not a blessed soul in the bar but myself.
Just about eight o'clock I thought as how I might shut up, when the
door opened and in came a black man. He said, 'I've left my bike
outside: I want a drink of Scotch cold,' he ses. And, mind you, I
twigged that he wasn't a nigger when he spoke, and I saw as he was a
gent by the peculiar refinement of his jawing. But as it wasn't my
business, I said nothing till he asked to wash his face. Then I told
him to go round to the pump in the back yard, 'tho'' ses I, 'a gent
like you will want hot water.' 'I ain't a gent,' ses he, 'I'm only a
poor strolling Christy Minstrel,' he ses. Then I laughs, seein' as he
was lying; but he scowls and bolts out to the back. When he comes back
his face was white--as white as you or me--and he had a moustached
like the feller in that photo. In fact, gents, he is the feller in
that photo, as I can swear to in any court of law. Well, he comes back
clean, and finishes his Scotch cold, and goes out. I thinks his manner
queer-like, and goes to the door. He gets on his bike, and goes off
down the road like a house on fire."
"Which way did he go? To London or down the country?"
"Oh, down the country, for sure, gents. Well, I didn't say anything
about all this, for I thought as he might be a gent doing a bolt in
disguise; but it wasn't any of my business to split, perticular as he
had given me two shilling, just for fun like. But, all the same, I
keeps my eye on the papers to see if there was anyone wanted. Then I
comes to this Tooley Alley murder, and a description of the negro in a
green coat and brass buttons. 'That's my man,' I ses, 'but hold hard,
Berry Jawkins, and don't say nothing till you see as there is a
reward.' So I waits and waits, till in this morning's paper I sees a
reward of thirty puns----"
"Twenty pounds!"
"Very well, gents all, we'll say twenty, tho' to my mind it ought to
be another tenner. But, as I ses, I sees this reward, and comes up to
get it. I have got it," said Jawkins, slapping his pocket, "tho' not
the amount I did expect; now, having told all, I goes, hoping you'll
catch that black-white nigger and hang him, for I think he is a
aristocrat, and I hates them, they being my natural enemies."
Having heard this history, Fanks let Berry Jawkins go, as there was no
reason why he should be detained. First, however, he found out that
Mr. Jawkins was always to be heard of at the Eight Bells in his
capacity of barman. The man having left the room, Fanks turned towards
Garth and Herbert to see what they thought of the revelation which had
been so unexpectedly made. They returned his gaze, and Garth was the
first to break the silence.
"Well," he said, in a low tone, "so Hersham is the culprit after all?"
"Pardon me, Garth; but I do not think that we have proved that yet.
What do you say, Mr. Vaud?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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