Rogues and Vagabonds

by George R. Sims

Directly the first flush of joy was over Bess grew nervous. Every sound terrified her. She dreaded lest the police might suddenly appear upon the scene. It seemed so cruel that, now they were united after these long years of absence, George should still be a hunted felon, with a price upon his head.

The old showman and his good wife saw how matters lay, and did their best to cheer them. Shakspeare and granny were not in the secret of the circumstances under which George had been found, and they could not understand the nervous little jumps which Bess kept giving when there was a knock next door, or the sound of a cab stopping in the street. George concealed his feelings better than his wife, but he, too, was nervous. They had left the vans and the horses a little way out, in charge of the men, who were to move slowly across country with them to the starting-point for the next tour, and George, though well disguised in a slouch hat and Mr. Jarvis’s long coat, was in an agony of fear as they came by a suburban line of railway to a point where they could take a cab to the door. He felt sure that a description of him had been telegraphed to all the stations, and that there would be plenty of people on the look-out to earn the reward which had doubtless been offered.

He would have been still more nervous had he known that for days a stout gentleman had been hanging about the street looking up at this very house—a stout gentleman, who had recognised Mrs. Smith’s face, and who had also read in the papers an account of a convict’s escape, and had ascertained that this runaway convict was his old lodger, Mr. George Smith.

Mr. Jabez Duck, applying himself diligently to his new business of private inquiry agent, had progressed rapidly in his employer’s favour, and found himself soon very fairly off, with a good salary, liberal journey ‘exes,’ and a house full of lodgers at home, who more than paid his rent. He and Susan occasionally had a little flare up, but as a rule they jogged along very comfortably.

It was in the course of his professional perusal of ‘Lost, Stolen, or Strayed,’ the agony column and the mysterious crime department of the daily press, that Jabez lighted upon the intelligence that his old lodger, George Smith, had escaped and eluded his pursuers.

Jabez had previously by accident recognised Mrs. Smith, as she stood looking out of the window of Shakspeare Jarvis’s room one day, and Jabez said to himself that if George Smith got to London undiscovered he would make his way to where his wife was.

When the days went on and the escaped convict was not heard of, Jabez felt sure that he had got safely through the country and was coming townward. Here was a chance for him to distinguish himself in his business and get his name in all the papers. He might beat the professional detectives at their own game, and show how much cleverer he was than the Scotland Yard folks.

Day after day he watched the little house in Lambeth, and made inquiries round about in a quiet and innocent manner as to whether any one had arrived. He got acquainted with one of the lodgers in the house, and went through the whole programme of manouvres which enables the private inquiry agent to know our business, if he wants to, better than we know it ourselves.

If I am curious about Mr. Jones in the next street, or Mr. Stubbs opposite, and want to know all about him, I have but to get a subscriber to one of the trade protection societies to ‘put an inquiry through’ for me. The process is simple. The inquirer fills up a printed form with the name and address of the person he is curious about, and the nature of information required, and hands it in at the office. In three or four days he gets a reply. One of these replies lies before the writer. It is a gem. ‘No. 316. The person inquired about has lived at his present address two years. Was formerly a publican, but became bankrupt in 1874. Since then has married a second wife, who is said to have money. Attends race meetings, and is addicted to drink. Has been summoned twice for assaulting his present wife. Tradespeople in neighbourhood have difficulty in getting their accounts settled. Has a brother undergoing penal servitude. Further information if required.’

It isn’t pleasant to think that, without our knowledge, we ourselves, gentle reader, may be inquired about half a dozen times a year by these agent gentlemen, and that whatever scandal they may pick up of a tradesmen we have ceased to deal with, or a discharged servant, is duly entered against us to our detriment, without the possibility of our refuting the libellous statement, of which we are in sublime ignorance.