Towards Parge, the detective stood in the relation of pupil to master; for it was Parge who, observing his abilities, had induced him to join the profession, and had never ceased to praise, and blame, and help him on to the best of his ability. For some considerable time Parge had been a noted detective himself, and he had retired within the last few years into private life, owing to a tendency to obesity and an increase of years which forbade his further exercising his talents in the way of thief-catching and assassin-hunting. The criminal fraternity had rejoiced rather too soon, when they heard that their great enemy had retired on a pension; for Parge left behind him a worthy successor in the person of Gebb, and he still instructed the latter in particularly difficult cases where two heads were better than one. Mr. Parge, by reason of his eighteen stone, was chained to an armchair for the rest of his life; but his brain was still active, and he took a sufficient interest in Scotland Yard affairs to read all criminal cases, and help his more active deputy to bring them to satisfactory conclusions. The old detective sat in his house like Odin on the Air-throne, and--through the medium of the Press--knew much that was going on in the shady section of society, which he had watched for so many years. Frequently he instructed Gebb how to act, and what conclusions to form on slender evidence; and the pupil, when at a loss, invariably turned to his master for a word of encouragement and explanation. But that Parge had forestalled him by sending the note, Gebb, later on, would have laid the case of the Yellow Boudoir before his--so to speak--sleeping partner.
"I guess the old man will be in a rage," said Gebb to himself as he hurried with all speed to Pimlico. "I should have seen him before on the matter, only it has bothered me so. He says he has solved the mystery--that means he has discovered who killed Miss Ligram. I don't believe it--with the greatest possible respect for Simon--I don't believe it."
The ex-detective dwelt in a little house in a little square, and passed his time usually in a huge armchair, placed conveniently near the window, so that he could survey the busy world from which he had withdrawn. He was a Daniel Lambert for size and rotundity, with a large red face like a full moon, and an impressive girth which would have made the fortune of an alderman; but his eyes were keen and bright, and the brain pertaining to this man-mountain of flesh was as active as one cased in the leanest of bodies. He was clothed in a gaudy-figured dressing-gown of blue and red, wore carpet slippers on his large feet, a smoking-cap with a large tassel on his sparse locks, and sat amid a litter of newspapers. Parge took in nearly every morning and evening journal in London, and from dawn till dark read the police news, cutting out all such cases as he deemed worthy of his attention. In the evening he usually played whist with his wife and two cronies, or kept the company enthralled by his stories of the scoundrels he had exposed, and the under-world he had moved in. Mrs. Parge--an anæmic woman, as slender as Simon was stout--waited on her husband, and thought him--intellectually and morally, as he was physically--the greatest of men. She did all the house-work with the assistance of a small servant, and, being an excellent cook, had contributed not a little to the weight and size of her spouse by preparing those appetizing dishes which her Simon loved. The couple had a comfortable income, a comfortable house, and both enjoyed the best of health, so that the Parge household was as happy a one as could be found in London.
"My word, Absalom," said lean Mrs. Parge when she opened the door, "you're going to have a bad time; you've going to catch it. Simon saw you from the window, and is getting up steam to receive you."
A series of growls proceeding from the near parlour proclaimed the truth of this warning, and when Gebb entered the presence of his master, steam was got up so far that Parge's smoking-cap came skimming past the head of the visitor. Gebb picked it up and brought it to Parge, who received him and it with a growl of wrath. At Parge's feet lay a pile of newspapers, some open, some folded, some with evidence of scissors' work and some quite whole. On a near table there lay a large volume bound in red cloth, which Gebb recognized as one of the series of books in which Parge noted down the more important cases, and stored his newspaper cuttings. He wondered if the old man had it at his elbow to throw at him, for Parge's fingers evidently itched to send the book after the smoking-cap; but, as he refrained from further violence, Gebb concluded that the volume had been placed within reach of its owner for some purpose connected with his visit. He was right, as subsequent events proved.
"Oh!" growled Parge, glaring at the young man, "so you've thought fit to come at last?"
"I couldn't come sooner, Simon," protested Gebb, taking a chair, "I've been worried out of my life by this Grangebury case."
"And what good has all your worry done, you fool? You've found out nothing."
"Indeed I have. I've traced back Miss Ligram's life to the year '93. She is--but I forget--you don't know the case."
"Don't I!" retorted Parge, sharply. "I know a deal more than you can tell me. I suppose you are in difficulties over the matter?"