WHERE THE TRACKS LED TO.
IN FOUR CHAPTERS.—CHAP. II.
The very next day the office porter at Thurles & Company—I never heard who the ‘Company’ was—received orders to go to Bristol on some errand for the firm, and wait for a packet, which he was to bring back with him. Thurles & Company had two out-of-door porters or messengers; but this was the man who attended to the head-clerk’s room, to the counting-house, and, of course, on Mr Thurles. He went, and I suppose his employers had written to the Bristol people asking them to keep the man down there for a while, as he was gone a very long time. In his absence, another person had to be appointed to perform his duties; and I may as well say at once that I was the temporary porter, and that the regular party had been purposely sent away to make room for me. Dressed in plain brown livery, with brass buttons, wearing a false pair of whiskers—I shaved quite close in those days—with collar and tie as much unlike my usual style as could be, without anything like a caricature, I was not easily to be recognised, even if—as was hardly probable—some of the clerks had ever seen and known Sergeant Holdrey of the metropolitan police. There were not many clerks at Thurles & Company’s, so on the first day of my taking office I knew them all.
My inexperience in my duties occasioned me, and others too, some inconvenience at first, and would have been much worse but for a little assistance I derived from a clerk who observed it—a young fellow named Picknell. I had noticed him when I first went in, and did not like his looks. He was short and thin, very dark-complexioned like a gipsy, with eyes that you couldn’t fix, and couldn’t say whether they were watching you or not; and I never could make up my mind from first to last as to whether he had or had not a cast in his eye. However, he took compassion on me, and told me several things which were useful, and from the first seemed to take an interest in me. Well, on this day I could do but little. I kept my eyes open; noticed the manner and style of the clerks, and of the porters as well. These latter had not been suspected; but they were none the less likely to have been in the job, and of course I noticed thoroughly the window and its position as regarded the safe.
Mr Thurles had said the robbery must have been committed by some one whose appearance was familiar to the people in the neighbourhood, as he would certainly be noticed; but after seeing the premises, I did not agree with him. The entry was made in just the way a regular ‘tradesman’ would have done it; but this was no guide, if the place had been prepared for him.
I went home to think over the matter and to decide what my first move should be. I was going round a crescent which lay in my road home, when I was startled by seeing two figures cross the farther end, and, as they passed under the light of a lamp, I could have sworn that one was my Winny; the other was a man I could not recognise. I laughed at the fancy, however, as it was impossible that my girl should be there; and I had turned down a street which led to my place, when, by a sudden change of mind, I turned sharply round and went in the direction where I had seen these persons. But just there the crescent joined a large and busy thoroughfare, in which it was easy to lose any one; at anyrate, I could see nothing of them, although I walked first on one side and then the other for several minutes. Once I thought I saw a couple resembling them enter a shop, and I hurried up, only to find, when close to them, that these were not in the least like the persons I thought I had seen.
This incident disturbed me more than I could account for, and do what I would, I could not help thinking of it all the way home; and as I put my key in the door, my heart fluttered in such a way as it had never done with more serious business. It was an immense relief to me to find Winny there and my tea waiting for me as usual.
‘What has been troubling you, father?’ she said, as I took off my hat and coat. ‘You look harassed.’
‘Well, I am a little harassed, Winny. I don’t like being taken from home again.’ I had determined to say nothing about the crescent incident, of which I began to feel a trifle ashamed.
I made up my mind to have a nice enjoyable Christmas, for the business of Thurles & Company was not of the kind to demand my running about without rest, and, in honest truth, I did not see how I was to begin anywhere, so a day’s consideration would not hurt it.
We had a quiet day enough. My wife’s brother and his wife came to tea and supper; as also did Dick Berry, an old comrade—pensioned off like myself—and his wife. We had a cosy evening; but Winny and I had our dinner alone. When it was over and I got my pipe, I could not help thinking of very different times—when my poor wife was alive—always so cheerful!—when the two boys, who died with the scarlet fever, were still with us, and when Tom, my other boy, had not gone to Australia. While I was thinking like this, I caught Winny’s eye fixed on my own, and I supposed something of the same train of fancy was in her mind, for she rose from her chair, threw her arms round my neck, and—to my alarm, as well as my surprise, for she was not a girl to give way—burst out sobbing.
I was upset for the moment; but rallying, I said: ‘Come, Winny, my dear! We must keep up a better heart than this. I know you are thinking of the past; but I would rather you, with all your life before you, thought of the future.’
For the moment she was worse instead of better for this cheering up, and I really thought was going to be hysterical; but she rallied herself with a great effort, and after kissing me again and again, dried her eyes, and laughed at herself for being so foolish.
We had no fresh outbreak; but, for all that, I was glad when my friends dropped in and things became more generally cheerful. We had our usual chat, our game at cards; although Winny was a woman grown, she always looked for the ‘speculation’ at Christmas, just as she had done when a child. We had our songs too; but over these, I gave my old friend Dick, who was a beautiful singer—had been better, I know, but was capital still—a hint not to make the ballads too sentimental, consequently he left out Isle of Beauty, which was his great favourite, and worth walking a mile to listen to. So the evening passed off pretty well.
On the next day I was at Mr Thurles’ office again. Being Boxing Day, there was only one clerk there. It was necessary, it appeared, to keep the office open; but no particular business was expected to be done. The clerk on duty was the young man Picknell. He was as pleasant as before, and quite disposed to make the time pass agreeably, so that the loss of my holiday should not be so bad after all. He sent out for a bottle of wine, as on such a day, he said, no one ever came after the morning; and being, it seemed, of an abstemious turn, he meant it all, or nearly all, for me. Now, that was kind of him; but, as it happens, I am abstemious also, and do not care for anything in that way until the evening. However, to show that I appreciated his kindness, I drank a glass or two. Also—it was a waste of good liquor, I own—I threw a little under the grate while he was out of the room. I wanted to please him, and at the same time to keep my head clear.
To keep up the idea that I was enjoying myself, I allowed my tongue to run somewhat more than usual. He was by no means displeased at this, but rather encouraged it. I was at a loss how to introduce the robbery. I wanted to get at the gossip and opinion of the office on the subject; but it was a ticklish matter to begin upon, when the difficulty was solved by Mr Picknell mentioning it. Mr Thurles had told me that only a few of his people knew all the facts of the burglary; but if he thought such a thing was possible, I did not, and would have betted that every man in the concern knew quite as much about it as did his master.
‘Through the window under which you are sitting, David,’ said Mr Picknell—I was ‘David’ as the new porter—‘some thieves broke into the office a little time back. We had a most mysterious robbery here.’
‘Then that must have been what I heard two of the gentlemen talking about the other day,’ I answered. ‘Did you lose much, sir?’
‘I believe not a great deal,’ continued the clerk; ‘and why such expert burglars as these must have been, should not have arranged for a greater haul, no one can guess.’ He went on to tell me, very clearly, how all was supposed to have been done, and in telling me this, he mentioned Mr Godfrey’s name. He showed me where the young man sat, and explained his duties. He touched only slightly upon these things; yet it was quite clear from what he said that no one had such facilities for knowing what was in the safe as Mr Harleston, and no one could so easily have taken a cast of the keys. He did not say this right out, yet he contrived to impress it all upon me as clearly as though he had put it down in writing.
I was easily led, you may suppose, to talk upon this subject, and he led me on accordingly. But, of course, if you lead a man anywhere, you have to go first along the same path, hence, naturally, he had to dwell upon the matter just as much as I did. Having learned so much, I wanted to hear more about Mr Godfrey.
‘Why does not the young gentleman come here now?’ I asked. ‘I understood he was engaged in the office.’
‘So he was,’ returned the clerk with a queer smile; ‘but things are not pleasant just now.’
‘I should have thought Mr Thurles would have liked some confidential person in his establishment,’ I continued; ‘it would be very convenient.’
‘Perhaps he would,’ said Picknell, with another smile; ‘but sometimes confidential persons know too much, and then, you see’—— He broke off here, but of course I understood his hint.
Well, the day wore away pleasantly, after a fashion, and I strove to see something like the ghost of a clue in what little I had already gathered. It certainly looked rather suspicious as against Mr Godfrey, and I resolved to pay some attention to him and his associates. And then there were other things to be thought of, because I am not one of those men who, having taken up an idea, try to make everything fit in with that, instead of making my ideas fit the facts.
The first thing now to be done was to ascertain what expenses young Mr Godfrey was running into and what companions he mixed with. It was certain that it was not he who had paid in the forged bills; and as those were lost, a good deal of the regular way of proceeding was of no avail. Here, too, a hint or two from Mr Picknell came in useful. It appeared that the young fellow had a great taste for horseracing—or for betting on horseracing, which is not altogether the same thing. This was important, and so were several other scraps of information I picked up from the clerk.
In the little time that I was at home, I was sorry to see that Winny was not yet her old self; and I determined that as soon as this business was over, winter-time though it might be, she should take a holiday, and we would go to some sheltered place on the south coast for a fortnight, as I feared she was working too hard.
I now learned that Mr Harleston was supposed to be entangled with some disreputable female acquaintance. Mr Picknell let this fall as though by accident. I did not greatly believe in the accidental character of the information, for I had soon decided that the clerk did not like Mr Harleston; nevertheless, such news was valuable, as my experience had long taught me that such an entanglement was enough to account for anything.
I had not seen Mr Godfrey. This was indispensable, so I resolved on a bold stroke, and determined to call at the house of Mrs Thurles with some excuse, to ask for him. Well dressed up, I thought I was safe; and luck befriended me. I had got up a clumsy story: it was to the effect that I heard they were taking on people at Thurles & Company, and I had been recommended to apply to him. It was absurd enough, I know, to go to a gentleman in the evening on such an errand; but in my case it did not matter, as the stroke of luck I referred to saved me all trouble. I was opposite the house, at the foot of the steps, turning over the beginning of the story in my mind for the last time, when the door opened and a servant looked out. Seeing me, by the light of the street-lamp, he beckoned and said: ‘Do you want to earn a shilling, my man?’ I said ‘Yes’ promptly enough, and went up the steps; while the man, turning to a gentleman whom I now saw in the hall, said: ‘Here is one who will go, Mr Godfrey. The very chance! A tall, fine, handsome young fellow, but without that air of resolution I like to see in a man’s eyes and mouth.’ ‘A good enough fellow you are,’ I thought; ‘but could easily be made a tool of by man or woman either.’
It appeared he had an appointment with a gentleman, but being detained at home, would be an hour behind time; and to send word to this effect was why he wanted a messenger. Mr Godfrey was man of business sufficient to make sure of my doing my errand properly, by adding a line to say I was to have a shilling on my giving the note in. He told me this with a smile. As nothing particular came of the message, I will merely say that I delivered it promptly and got my money.
Now I had seen Mr Godfrey, I should not forget him easily. But what struck me as strange was the feeling that I had seen him before. Of course one may meet anybody, casually pass him in the street, and so forth, retaining a vague recollection of his features; but this was not altogether like that. I seemed to have some recent knowledge of him, but where, or how, I racked my brains in vain to find out.
My plan was to watch Mr Godfrey. I had learned, I considered, all I could at the office; the only thing to be done now was to find out more concerning his habits and associates; therefore I gave up the porter’s livery next day. To do this was not difficult, as one of the out-door men was ordered to take my duty until the return of the regular official.
I felt in duty bound to return Mr Picknell’s liberality, and to ask him to have a glass with me at my expense; but I would not do this before the other clerks, as the young man might not like it; consequently, I waited until the men had left, and then, lingering outside for Mr Picknell, I intended to speak to him when a little way from the office. As I knew where he lived, I took up a position accordingly; but he turned in an unexpected direction, and went quickly away from me. This might easily happen from his having a special engagement; but there was something in the manner of his crossing the road, and then hurrying down a bystreet, which looked like a man endeavouring to escape notice; and I made up my mind to follow and watch, instead of speaking to him. It was not easy to keep him in sight, so quickly did he go, and so suddenly did he turn down unexpected streets, but I managed pretty well, until I found, much to my astonishment, that we were drawing near the neighbourhood in which I had earned my shilling on the previous evening, and, in fact, were close to the house of Mr Godfrey Harleston.
It was surely impossible that he could be going there; but he kept on until we were almost in the street, when he entered a low-looking public-house which stood in a mews close by. I waited, hidden in a neighbouring doorway, to see him come out. A long time passed; and as he did not appear, I began to grow uneasy. At last I went into the house, and found, to my disgust, that it opened on the other side into a bystreet near the mews, and by this way, no doubt, Mr Picknell had gone. This was surprise enough; but, to add to my astonishment, I saw, leaning against the bar, smoking, and with a half-emptied tumbler before him, Sam Braceby, the Long-necked Sam whom I had saved at the Old Bailey. I knew him at once, and the recognition was mutual. Sam had nothing to fear from me now, but I could tell that he was rather staggered by seeing me. Of course I could not consider him as being after any good, see him where I might, and he knew that as well as I did. He touched his cap, and asked to be allowed the pleasure of standing a glass. When I declined this, he said he had been to the West End on a profitable bit of business—indeed, he thought he was going to take a snug little beerhouse there, which a friend had promised to put him into. I looked at him steadily while he said this, and smiled when he had finished. In spite of himself, Sam could not help smiling also, although he tried to disguise it by drinking some gin-and-water.