“Yes, they were the only two. He was the only one that came back to England.”
“Just so. And there were rumours, I believe, that after all he wasn’t altogether a loser by that wreck? Mind, I only say there were rumours; there may have been nothing in them.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Beckle replied, “I know all about that. They said the ship had been cast away purposely, for the sake of the insurance. But there was no truth in that, else why did the underwriters pay? And besides, from what I know privately, it couldn’t have been. Abel Pullin was a reckless scoundrel enough, I know, but he would have taken good care to be paid well for any villainy of that sort.”
“Yes, of course. But it was suggested that he was.”
“No, nothing of the sort. He came here, as usual, as soon as he got home, and until he got another ship he hadn’t a penny. I had to keep him, so I know. And he was sober almost all the time from want of money. Do you mean to say, if the common talk were true, that he would have remained like that without getting money of the owners, his accomplices, and at least making them give him another ship? Not he. I know him too well.”
“Yes, no doubt. He was just now back from his next voyage after that, I take it?”
“Yes, in the Iolanthe brig. A smaller ship than he has been used to, and belonging to different owners.”
“Had he much money this time?”
“No. He had bought himself a gold watch and chain abroad, and he had a ring and a few pounds in money, and some instruments; that was all, I think, in addition to his clothes.”
“Well, they’ve all been stolen now,” the inspector said. “Have you missed anything yourself?”