“Well, come now,” said the landlord, who was anxious to prevent the conversation from becoming acrimonious; “Jack meant naught wrong, so there’s no harm done. And as to any i’ t’ village having ta’en t’ brass I’d pledge my living again’ it. I make no charge again’ nob’dy, but there was a stranger having a snack in t’ ‘Royal’ at same time as Inman and t’ lawyer, and whether or no they dropped ought ’at they shouldn’t isn’t to be known; but as Swithin says, we’ve a right to wer own thoughts.”
Conversation at this point became general as each man advanced a theory based upon the information that had been given, or asked a question of his neighbour preparatory to forming one. Silence, however, fell upon the company again when during a lull Ambrose was heard to say—
“—and, if so be as they don’t lay their hands on t’ thief and get hold o’ t’ brass, it’s like to go hard wi’ Baldwin, for if all’s trew ’at’s tell’d, he wor at t’ last gasp, as you may put it, and could get no more credit. I’m flayed t’ ship’ll land on t’ ass-midden this time, Swith’n.”
“That’s a trew word, Ambrus,” the other replied, “and if so be as Inman lands alongside him I don’t know ’at there’ll be any pity wasted. Not but what he’s worked hard for Baldwin, for you mun give t’ devil his due; and for a man to lose t’ lump, and be beggared as you may say, all in a minute, is broth ’at none of us ’ud like to sup.”
“And do you mean to tell me,” Jack exclaimed with a return of temper, “ ’at Inman’ll have lent all this brass and not be covered for’t?” He snapped his fingers contemptuously, as he asked the question. “You can tell that tale to t’ infant-class! What was it Ambrose said, not above a month back, when Inman caught his breeches on that nail i’ Jane Wilki’son’s gateway and made her pay t’ price of a new pair, ommost; and her a widow? I ask you, what did Ambrose say? Wasn’t it, ’at he’d nails ’at ’ud scratch his grannie out of her grave? And d’you think a man like that’ll put down a penny and not pick up tuppence? He’s no such blamed fool!”
The sense of the company was with Jack this time, and even Swithin had nothing to say in reply. As for Ambrose, the quotation from his past pronouncement tickled his vanity, and he nodded his head approvingly as he remarked:—
“I did say it, lad, though it had slipped my mem’ry. There wor a time when I wor full o’ wise sayin’s o’ that sort, and took a pleasure i’ shapin’ ’em; but I’ve getten ower old now and it’s only odd ’uns that come back to me. A robbery now ’ud ha’ been a godsend when I wor i’ my gifted prime; but we’d nowt o’ that sort—nowt nobbut a toathri apples missin’ and t’ like o’ that, ’at wor just marlackin’, as you mud say. But it’s gettin’ late, neebours; and I’m a bit shakken wi’ what we’ve been going’ through. I’ll be shapin’ for home.”
CHAPTER XXI
IN WHICH EVENTS MOVE QUICKLY
WHEN Inman entered the kitchen and saw Baldwin seated in his chair upon the hearth—a whipped, miserable dog with no spirit left in him—his anger blazed forth with such sudden fierceness that the inspector, who had found him cool and level-headed as they discussed the disaster on the journey home, opened his eyes in amazement; and the detective, a shrewd, kindly-looking man with little of the official about him, observed the newcomer with keen professional interest.