‘So I just stayed where I was behind the screen,’ she said. ‘Mr Gideon was carrying a lamp and he set it down on the desk. They was all very excited, and as soon as Dr Whitby spoke I knew something was up. “What an opportunity,” he said, “while they’re playing around with that dagger he’ll just sit where he is. We’re safe for fifteen minutes at least.” Then the German gentleman spoke. Very brusque he is. “Get on with it,” says he. “Where does he keep the stuff?” ’
Mrs Meade paused, and her little black eyes were eloquent. ‘Imagine the state I was in, me standing there with the bottle in me ’and,’ she said. ‘But the next moment Dr Whitby set me at peace again. “In the secret drawer at the back of the desk,” he said. I peeked round the edge of the screen and saw ’im fiddling about with the master’s desk.’ She fixed Meggie with a bright black eye. ‘I was upset,’ she said. ‘If it hadn’t been for the whisky and the way it would have looked I’d ’ave gone out, but as it was I couldn’t very well, and so I stayed where I was, but I listened. For I said to myself, “The humblest of us are sometimes the ministers of the Lord,” and I realized someone would have to be brought to justice.’
Her self-righteousness was so sublime that it all but carried her hearers away with it, and she went on, whilst they listened to her, fascinated.
‘I saw them open the drawer and then there was such a swearing set-out that I was ashamed. “It’s gone,” said Mr Gideon, and Dr Whitby he started moaning like an idiot. “He always kept them here,” he kept saying over and over again. Then the German, him that’s for Hell Fire as sure as I’ll be with the Lambs, he got very angry. “You’ve played the fool enough,” he said, in such a loud voice that I nearly cried out and gave myself away. “Go and fetch him,” he said. “Bring him up here. I’ve had enough of this playing.” ’
Mrs Meade paused for breath.
‘Dr Whitby’s rather a sullen gentleman,’ she continued, ‘but he went off like a child. I stood there, my knees knocking together, wishing me breathing wasn’t so heavy, and praying to the Lord to smite them for their wickedness, while the German gentleman and Mr Gideon were talking together in a foreign language. I couldn’t understand it, of course,’ she added regretfully, ‘but I’m not an old fool, like you might imagine. Though I’m sixty-two I’m pretty spry, and I could tell by the way they was waving their hands about and the look on their faces and the sound of their voices that the German gentleman was angry about something or other, and that Mr Gideon was trying to soothe ’im. “Wait,” he said at last, in a Christian tongue, “he’ll have it on him, I tell you.” Well! . . .’ She paused and looked from one to the other of her listeners, her voice becoming more dramatic and her little black eyes sparkling. Clearly she was coming to the cream of her narrative.
‘Well,’ she repeated, when she was satisfied that they were both properly on edge, ‘at that moment the door was flung open and Dr Whitby came back, white as a sheet, and trembling. “Chief! Gideon!” he said. “He’s been murdered! Stabbed in the back!” ’
Mrs Meade stopped to enjoy the full effect of her announcement.
‘Were they surprised?’
Abbershaw spoke involuntarily.