For the rest of that day Mr. Tridge and Mr. Lock found engrossing employment in devising theories as to the exact nature of Mr. Dobb’s machinations. Mr. Lock was of opinion that Mr. Tridge would be called on to impersonate Mrs. Jackson’s new partner in the hairdressing business, though he admitted that he could not imagine how this was to be carried through to complete success. On the other hand, Mr. Tridge, displaying a truculent species of pessimism, obstinately inclined to the belief that yet a parson and a wedding-ring would be found to be lurking at the back of Mr. Dobb’s strategy.
And Mr. Samuel Clark, ever somewhat crude and confused in his ideas, plied his ferry all that afternoon, oblivious of his surroundings even to the point of returning thanks for a tip of a French halfpenny. The only thing his mind could dwell on was that, at some near date, the widowed Mrs. Jackson was to be lured by Horace into a hairdressing saloon and there relieved, by some pretext, of the money she had been collecting in rents. The morality of such a proceeding did not trouble the plump sailorman; he found sufficient extenuation in the thought that it was the job of the police to prevent such things.
But late that same evening, at the “Jolly Sailors,” Mr. Dobb exhibited himself in a more communicative mood. Assembling his former shipmates around him, he extended a strictly rationed hospitality towards them, and then, of his own free-will, reverted to the twin subjects of the hairdressing business and Mrs. Jackson.
“The old gal came in to tea quite unexpected to-day,” he said. “That’s three times in a little over a fortnight. ’Owever, I sold ’er a second-’and dish-cover, so she’s paid for more than she’s ate up to now. She sat a long time over ’er tea chatting to my missis. Of course it didn’t hinterest me, so I went out into the shop. Only I couldn’t ’elp ’earing a lot, because some-’ow I’d left the door open, and it would ’ave looked so rude to ’ave closed it deliberate between us.”
He leaned back and, with a smile of profound self-satisfaction, eyed each of his friends in turn.
“Well?” prompted Mr. Tridge.
“The new chap she’s got ’er eye on is arriving the day after to-morrow to see the place and fix up finally with ’er. Oh, she’s very took with ’im! She ain’t ever seen ’im yet, but ’is letters ’ave touched ’er ’eart proper. It seems ’e’s just the very sort of chap she’s been advertising for—a lifelong teetotaller, a nonsmoker, never bets nor swears, always punctual, steady, and methodical.”
“In short,” restively summarized Mr. Tridge, “just the sort of chap I ain’t! Seems to me I stands a fine chance against ’im with a silly old geezer like ’er!” he added, ungallantly. “’Owever, go on!”
“’E’s coming down from London by the hexpress. Well, now, supposing ’e didn’t harrive, or something went wrong and they failed to come to a hagreement? Why, the shop would be standing empty from next Saturday, and she’d be at ’er wits’ ends to find some one else! She’s spent pounds in hadvertising for a teetotal, non-smoking barber as it is. Well, up you goes to see ’er, Joe Tridge, gives me as a reference, and gets the job temporary. And once you’re in, you ain’t the man you used to be if anything short of dynamite gets you out of that job again.”
“But why couldn’t you ’ave recommended me to start with?”