‘That’s right, Bob; and you may give him a hint that if he tries to bolt, or to play any pranks with us, he’ll be in limbo in less than no time, and if I am not mistaken, it will mean fifteen years at least.’
Bob Tuppit hung his head dejectedly, muttering to himself: ‘What will become of the poor kid and the helpless little woman who thinks him such a pink of perfection.’
The detective slapped him encouragingly on the shoulder.
‘Cheer up, Bob; you’re the right sort, and I’ll help you if I can. Off with you to your meeting-place. Wrentham is no fool and will see that the game is up.... But, I say’—detaining him—‘you will tell me some day how you managed to get the right bit of paper?’
‘Yes, yes, some day—when no harm can come of it.’
The anxious and affectionate brother of the swindler got on to the top of an omnibus and smoked moodily, his reflections being to this effect: ‘I suppose it’s in our natures. I took to juggling in an honest way, and he took to juggling the other way. Ah, education was the ruin of him—Dad said it would be as soon as he saw what a beautiful hand Martin wrote. Lucky he’s in his grave; this business would have cut him up awful.’
At Camberwell Green Tuppit left the omnibus and trudged moodily up to the Masons’ Arms, a comfortable-looking old-fashioned inn, which had once been a favourite halting-place of travellers between London and the village of Dulwich, the town of Croydon, and other places in Surrey. It had also been a summer resort of Cockneys in the days when there were meadows and dairy-farms in the neighbourhood of the Green. Although the fields were now covered with houses forming long yellow rows with gaudy gin palaces lifting their heads on the most prominent sites, the Masons’ Arms retained most of its ancient characteristics and the survivors of its ancient customers.
The stout white post with its faded swinging signboard, stood boldly out at the kerb, having at its base a long horse-trough, with a constant supply of water. The lower part of the building was cased in wood which had been painted oak colour and varnished, but the gloss had been long since rubbed off. The lower windows with their small panes of glass stretched from wall to wall, but from top to bottom they measured little more than three feet. Above was a broad balcony set in a rustic framework and railing. A huge earthen flower-pot stood at each end, while tables and benches were conveniently placed round about.
Tuppit did not enter the house; he walked up and down, disconsolately watching every approaching vehicle in expectation of seeing his brother alight from it. He had to wait long; but he was a patient little man, and the business he had in hand was too grave for him to think of quitting his post so long as there was a shred of hope that Wrentham would be wise for once and keep the appointment.
It was somewhat late in the afternoon when he came walking leisurely up from the Green as if he had no reason for haste. Tuppit led the way into the inn, nodded to the burly landlord as he passed the bar, ascended a narrow staircase and entered the room behind the balcony.