“I thought I reckernized t’ voice, Ambrus, but I wor mista’en; and that’s why i’stead o’ putting two and two together I call it two and a nowt. More’n that I won’t say.”
“But whoever t’ chap was,” said Albert, “he were a long way wide o’ Baldwin’s shop if he were i’ t’ long close. A fellow running away wi’ brass in his pocket ’ud be on t’ road to nowhere down there; whereas if a tramp were coming from t’ Gordel end—from Girston, happen—he’d mebbe be tempted to cut across t’ fields to save a mile or so on his way to t’ main road. Or, as like as not, he was for finding a bed i’ t’ shippen, till he saw t’ glimmer o’ your lantern.”
This commonplace solution of the mystery, whilst it pleased none of the company whose thirst for sensation was even greater than that for liquor, offended Swithin, who took refuge in silence after he had remarked that there were evidently those present who could put two and two together to their own satisfaction though, thank God, every man had a right to his own thoughts.
“If you ask me,” Jack Pearce broke in with some heat, “I don’t believe there’s been any robbery. Where’s Inman got his five hunderd quid from? ‘Had it by him,’ they say; as if folks kept bags o’ gold i’ t’ long drawer wi’ their spare shirts! It’s ridic’lous! and naught but a put-up job, to my thinking!”
All eyes now fixed themselves upon the young man whose flushed face revealed the angry state of his feelings; but it was a cold and even hostile gaze, for thrills were uncommon experiences in Mawm, and to be robbed of one of this magnitude was an unfriendly act, on a par with that which they were gathered to discuss. Jack felt this and stood upon his defence.
“He’s as cute and slippy as the Old Lad himself, is Inman, and I’ll bet my last dollar it’s all a made up dodge to gain a bit o’ time for Baldwin. Who’s seen t’ colour o’ t’ brass, I’d like to know? He lives by his wits, does Inman, more’n by joinering.”
“Whisht, lad! Whisht!” said the landlord, who alone had any sympathy for the hot-tempered youth. “You may think what you like but you mustn’t speak it out loud, for t’law’s again’ it!”
“Tha’s getten thi knife into Inman,” said Frank’s father, “and we all know why. He’s no friend o’ any of us ’at I know on, but they aren’t all thieves ’at dogs bark at, and choose where he got t’ brass from, get it he did, for our Frank not only ’eard t’ chink on’t, but saw it wi’ his own eyes. Aye, and I’ll tell you more—he saw it after Inman had gone and so did t’others, for they pept through a crack i’ t’ boards and saw Baldwin bring it out o’ t’ safe and frame to count it, but he were ower far gone, and so put it back.”
“Then I’m glad I don’t work for Baldwin,” said Jack sullenly, and with a significance there was no mistaking.
“And so you may be,” continued the other. “But Frank’s tell’d t’ police all he knows, and they don’t suspicion any o’ t’ men—anyway they’ve found nowt so far to warrant owt o’ t’ sort.”