“Well?” said Ocky.
“Leaving?” asked Peter.
“‘S’afternoon,” said Ocky. Then, after a silence, which heightened the suspense, came the revelation. “There’s a fellow, I know, a Mr. Widow—we were in the coop together. A nice fellow! He oughtn’t to have been there. Seems he was in the second-hand business and dressed like a parson to inspire confidence. Well, his wife was a gadabout woman and always jeering at him. One day, quite quietly, in a necessary sort of manner, without losing his temper, so he told me, he up and clumped her over the head. He went out to a sale, never thinking he’d done any more than was his duty; when he came back she was dead. He’s a nice, kind sort of chap, is Jimmie Widow, and religious. Not a bit like a murderer. If you didn’t start with a prejudice, you’d like him, Peter. I met him a fortnight ago. He’s opened a little place in Soho and wants me to join him. I’m to mind shop while he’s out. There’s heaps of money to be made in the second-hand business. You see, I’ll surprise you all and die a rich man yet.”
“Oh, yes,” said Peter, “I—I hope so.”
Mr. Grace thought it just as well that his friend should enter on his new adventure with the appearance of prosperity. He offered him a free ride in his cab. So Ocky took leave of his benevolent Delilahs not as a pedestrian but, as he had arrived—a carriage-gentleman.
Shortly after his exit, the parrot was pounced on and eaten by a cat. With the first money that he earned, Ocky made up for the loss with the gift of a pair of love-birds. The Misses Jacobite named one Ocky and the other Waffles. Which was the husband-bird and which the lady was a matter in continual dispute between the sisters. Miss Florence insisted that Waffles was the husband, because it had the more considerate habits. The other she thought of as Jehane, and disliked.
The question was still undecided, when a hawker of goldfish happened to call. No gold-fish were required; but the conversation veered round to the sex of love-birds. The peddler confessed that in his spare moments ‘e did a bit in poultry and bulldogs. He was at once invited to enter, with all the deference that is due to an expert. Having inspected Ocky and Waffles, he announced as his verdict that them bloomin’ love-birds wuz either both cocks or both ‘ens; but, whether cocks or ‘ens, even he, with a vast experience be’ind him, could not tell.
When he had departed, a silver cruet-stand was missed from the sideboard. And there the perplexing problem rested.