Mr William Jarker had had a long holiday from the public school where her Majesty’s officers try to instil lessons of good, while their refractory pupils resent them to the best of their ability. So long had been Mr Jarker’s holiday, that the police had grown uncomfortable at their inability to bring something home to him, but he was wanted, at last, on account of a collection of plate and valuables that had suddenly disappeared after a few linnets and finches had been netted some thirty miles down in Hertfordshire, though even here the burglary would not have drawn Mr Jarker into trouble had it not been for a confederate who had “peached” in consequence of what he called an unfair division of the spoil.
So Mr Jarker was wanted just at a time when he felt very comfortable and secure. He had certainly felt rather uneasy for a few days past, and read, or rather stumbled through, the various newspapers, taking particular interest in passages relating to discoveries of bodies, and inquests, but now this uneasiness had worn off, and no further notice having been taken of his behaviour by the Hardon family, he felt in very good spirits; though for all that, he had kept away from Bennett’s-rents, so that he might not encounter the Reverend Arthur Sterne, who had been assaulted, he heard; and on the principle of giving a dog a bad name and then hanging him, Bill thought he might be accused of the assault. As to the child, he learned that the curate had taken it to his own home.
Mr Jarker’s notice was drawn to the fact of his being wanted, one day when making his way from the Dials into Holborn. Naturally given to casting his eyes about him, he became aware of a quiet-looking man following him at a distance; and no sooner did Mr Jarker catch sight of that face, than horrors of the past untold danced before his eyes for an instant; but the next moment he thrust his hands into his pockets, drew a long breath, and began to whistle, all the while looking out ahead for what he next expected to see—a policeman in uniform.
It might be supposed that the whistler intended to give the person who followed him so closely into custody, but this was not the case, for Mr Jarker imagined that no sooner was there a policeman in sight, than the quiet-looking man would begin to close up.
But it might be somebody else who was wanted, so Mr Jarker crossed the road—so did the quiet man; Bill crossed again—so did the quiet man; and, though the weather was cold, the bird-catcher perspired, as he muttered—
“I wonder what it’s for?”
However, he appeared to take matters very coolly, and peeped here and there into the bird-fanciers’ shops, and so made his way into Holborn, now and then directing a peep at his quiet friend, who was apparently not taking the slightest heed of his proceedings, but all the same thoroughly realising the difficulty of finding one of his brotherhood when wanted.
Passengers were plentiful here, and the crowd thickened as Jarker went on, till a good opportunity seemed to present itself.
“Now for it!” thought Bill, and after a glance over his shoulder, he dodged in and out and about for five minutes, making more than one feint of having turned out of the main street; then, being apparently very much taken with the contents of a draper’s window, he stopped short, and glanced to the right to find the quiet-looking man in precisely the same place, and worse still, probably in obedience to a sign from the said quiet man, to the left there was a policeman closing up quickly.
“Meant for me!” muttered Bill; and again, as he turned hotter, “I wonder what it’s for?” while once more glancing to the right, there was the quiet man also closing in quickly.