CHAPTER VII
It was considerably past midday by the time Jim and his sister,accompanied by Terence, reached London. On arriving at Paddington, theyengaged a cab and drove to the hotel they had selected, a privateestablishment leading out of Piccadilly. Terence's amazement at the sizeof London was curious to witness. Hitherto he had regarded Melbourne asstupendous, now it struck him that that town was a mere village comparedwith this giant Metropolis. When he noted the constant stream oftraffic, the crowds that thronged the pavements, and the interminablestreets, his heart misgave him concerning the enterprise upon which hehad so confidently embarked.
"Bless my soul, how many people can there be in London?" he asked, asthey drove up to the hotel.
"Something over five millions," Jim replied. "It's a fair-sizedtownship."
"And we are going to look for one man," continued the other. "I guess itwould be easier to find a scrubber in the mallee than to get on thetrack of a man who is hiding himself here."
"Nevertheless we've got to find him somehow," said Jim. "That's the endof the matter."
After lunch he sent word to Terence that he wished him to accompany himon his first excursion. Up to that time he had formed no definite planof action, but it was borne in upon him that he could do nothing at alluntil he had visited the eating-house to which Murbridge had been tracedafter his arrival at Paddington Station. They accordingly made their wayto the house in question. It proved to be an uninviting place, with asawdust-covered floor, and half-a-dozen small tables arranged along oneside. On the other was a counter upon which were displayed a variety ofcovered dishes and huge tea cups. At the moment of Jim's entering theproprietor was giving his attention to a steaming pan of frying onions.
"What can I do for you, sir?" he asked, as he removed the frying-panfrom the gas and came forward.
"I want five minutes' conversation with you in private, if you will giveit to me," Jim replied, and then in a lower voice he added: "I stand inneed of some information which I have been told you are in a position tosupply. I need not say that I shall be quite willing to recompense youfor any loss of time or trouble you may be put to."
"In that case I shall be very happy to oblige you, sir," the man repliedcivilly enough. "That is to say, if it is in my power to do so. Will yoube good enough to step this way?"
Pulling down his shirt-sleeves, which until that moment had been rolledup, and slipping on a greasy coat, he led the way from the shop to atiny apartment leading out of it. It was very dirty and redolent ofonions and bad tobacco. Its furniture was scanty, and comprised a table,covered with American cloth, a cupboard, and two wooden chairs, upon oneof which James was invited to seat himself. Terence, who had followedthem, took the other, while he surveyed its owner with evidentdisfavour.
"And now, sir," said that individual, "I should be glad if you can tellme what I can do for you. If it's about the Board School election, well,I'll tell you at once, straight out, as man to man, that I ain't a-goin'to vote for either party. There was a young wagabond that I engaged theother day. He had had a Board School edecation, and it had taught himenough to be able to humbug me with his takings. Thirteen andelevenpence-'alfpenny was what he stole from me. And as I said to themissus only last night, 'No more Board School lads for me!' But there,sir, p'raps you ain't a-got nothing to do with them?"
"I certainly have not," James replied. "I am here on quite a differentmatter. Of course you remember the police visiting you a short timesince, with regard to a man who was suspected of being the murderer ofMr. Standerton, at Childerbridge, in Midlandshire?"
"Remember it?" the man replied, "I should think I did. And haven't I gotgood cause to remember it? I was nigh being worritted to death by 'em.First it was one, and then it was another, hanging about here and askingquestions. Had I seen the man? Did I know where he had gone? What was helike? Till with one thing and another I was most driven off my head. Iwon't say as how a detective oughtn't to ask questions, because we allknow it's his duty, but when it comes to interferin' with a man'sprivate business and drivin' his customers away from the shop--for Iwon't make no secrets with you that there is folks as eats at my tableas is not in love with 'tecs--well, then I say, if it comes to that,it's about time a man put his foot down."
"My case is somewhat different," said James. "In the first place, I amnot a detective, but the son of the gentleman who was murdered."
"Good gracious me! you don't say so," said the man, regarding him withastonishment and also with evident appreciation. "Now that makes all thedifference. It's only fit and proper that a young gentleman should wantto find out the man who, so to speak, had given him such a knock-downblow. Ask me what questions you like, sir, and I'll do my best to answer'em."
"Well, first and foremost," said Jim, "I want to know how you becameaware that the man in question hailed from Childerbridge? He wouldn'thave been likely to say so."
"No, you're right there," the man replied. "He didn't say so, but I knewit, because after he had had his meal, my girl was giving him 'ischange, I saw there was a Childerbridge label on the small bag hecarried in his hand. I put it to you, sir, if he hadn't been there,would that label have been on the bag?"
"Of course it would not. And he answered to the description given you?"
"To a T, sir. Same sort of face, same sort of dress, snarly manner ofspeaking, spotted bird's-eye necktie and all."
"It must have been the man. And now another question. You informed thepolice, did you not, that you had no knowledge as to where he went afterhe left your shop?"
The man fidgetted uneasily in his chair for a moment, and drummed withhis fingers upon the cover of the table. It was evident that he waskeeping something back, and was trying to make up his mind as to whetherhe should divulge his information or not.
Here James played a good game, and with a knowledge of human characterfew people would have supposed him to possess, took from his pocket asovereign, which he laid on the table before the other.
"There," he said, "is a sovereign. I can see that you are keepingsomething back from me. Now, that money is yours whether you tell me ornot. If it is likely to affect your happiness don't let me know, but ifyou can, I shall be glad if you will tell me all you know."
"Spoken like a gentleman, sir," the other replied, "and I don't mind ifI do tell you, though it may get me into trouble with some of mycustomers if you give me away. You see, sir, round about here in thisneighbourhood, a man has to be careful of what he says and does. Supposeit was to come to the ears of some people that it was me as gave theinformation that got the bloke arrested, well then, they'd be sure tosay to 'emselves, 'he's standin' in with the perlice, and we don't gonear his shop again.' Do you take my meaning, sir?"
"I quite understand," James replied. "I appreciate your difficulty, butyou may be quite sure that I will not mention your name in connectionwith any information you may give me."
"Spoken and acted like a gentleman again, sir," said the shopman. "NowI'll tell you what I know. I didn't tell the 'tecs,' becos they didn'ttreat me any too well. But this is what I _do_ know, sir. As he went outof the door he asked my little boy, Tommy, wot was playing on thepavement, how far it was to Great Medlum Street? The boy gave him thedirection, and then he went off."
"Great Medlum Street?" said James, and made a note of the name in hispocket-book. "And how far may that be from here?"
"Not more than ten minutes' walk," the other replied. "Go along thisstreet, then take the third turning to your left and the first on theright. You can't make no mistake about it."
"And what kind of a street is it?" Jim enquired. "I mean, what sort ofcharacter does it bear?"
"Well, sir, that's more than I can tell you," said the other. "For all Iknow to the contrary, it's a fairish sort of street, not so fust-classas some others I could name, but there's a few decent people living init."
"And do you happen to have anything else to tell me about him?"
"That's all I know, sir," said the other. "I haven
't set eyes on himfrom that blessed moment until this, and I don't know as I want to."
"I am very much obliged to you," said Jim, rising and putting hispocket-book away. "You have given me great assistance."
"I'm sure you're very welcome, sir," replied the man. "I am always readyto do anything I can for a gentleman. It's the Board School folkthat----"
Before the man could finish his sentence, Jim was in the shop once more,and was making his way towards the door, closely followed by Terence.
"Now the first question to be decided," he said, when they were in thestreet, "is what is best for us to do? If I go to Great Medlum Street,it is more than likely that Murbridge will see me and make off again;while, if I wait to communicate with Robins, I may lose him altogether."
Eventually it was decided that he should not act on his own initiative,but should communicate with Detective Robins, and let him make enquiriesin the neighbourhood in question. A note was accordingly despatched tothe authorities at Scotland Yard. In it James informed them that it hadcome to his knowledge that the man Murbridge was supposed to be residingin Great Medlum Street, though in what house could not be stated. Laterin the day Robins himself put in an appearance at the hotel.
"You received my letter?" James asked when they were alone together.
"I did, sir," the man answered, "and acted upon it at once."
"And with what result?"
"Only to discover that our man has slipped through our fingers oncemore," said the detective. "He left Great Medlum Street two days ago. Upto that time he had lodged at number eighteen. The landlady informs methat she knows nothing as to his present whereabouts. He passed underthe name of Melbrook, and was supposed by the other lodgers to be anAmerican."
"You are quite certain that it is our man?"
"There can be no doubt about it. He went to the house on the day thatthe murder was discovered. Now the next thing to find out is where henow is. From what his landlady told me, I should not think he was in thepossession of much money. As a matter of fact, she suspected that he hadbeen pawning his clothes, for the reason that his bag, which wascomparatively heavy when he arrived, seemed to be almost empty when heleft. To-morrow morning I shall make enquiries at the variouspawnbrokers in the neighbourhood, and it is just possible we may getsome further information from them."
Promising to communicate with Jim immediately he had anything ofimportance to impart, Robins took his departure, and Jim went in searchof Alice to tell her the news. Next day word was brought to him to theeffect that Murbridge had pawned several articles, but in no case werethe proprietors able to furnish any information concerning his presentwhereabouts. Feeling that it was just possible, as in the case of theeating-house keeper near Paddington Station, that the detectives had notbeen able to acquire all the knowledge that was going, Jim, accompaniedby the faithful Terence, set off in the afternoon for number eighteen,Great Medium Street. It proved to be a lodging-house of the common type.
In response to their ring the door was opened by the landlady, a volubleperson of Irish descent. She looked her visitors up and down beforeadmitting them, and having done so, enquired if they stood in need ofapartments.
"I regret to say that we do not," said Jim blandly. "My friend and Ihave come to put a few questions to you concerning----"
"Not poor Mr. Melbrook, I hope," she answered. "Is all London gone mad?'Twas but yesterday afternoon, just when I was settin' down to my bit o'tea that a gentleman comes to make enquiries about Mr. Melbrook. I told'im he'd left the house, but that would not do. He wanted to know wherehe had gone, and when and why he had left, just for all the world as ifhe was his long-lost brother. Then this morning another comes. Wanted toknow if I knew where Mr. Melbrook pawned his clothes? Did he appear tobe in any trouble? Now here you are with your questions. D'ye think I'vegot nothing better to do than to be trapesing round talkin' about whatdon't concern me? What's the world coming to, I should like to know?"
"But, my good woman, I am most anxious to find Mr. Melbrook," said Jim,"and if you can put me into the possession of any information that willhelp me to do so, I shall be very pleased to reward you for yourtrouble."
"But I've got nothing to tell you," she replied, "more's the pity of it,since you speak so fair. From the time that Mr. Melbrook left my houseuntil this very moment I've heard nothing of him. He may have gone backto America--if he was an American as they say--but there, he may beanywhere. He was one of them sort of men that says nothing about hisbusiness; he just kept himself to himself with his paper, and took hisdrop of gin and water at night the same as you and me might do. If I wasto die next minute, that's all I can tell you about him."
Seeing that it was useless to question her further, Jim pressed somecoins into the woman's willing hand, and bade her good-day. Then, moredispirited by his failure than he would admit, he drove back to hishotel. Alice met him in the hall with a telegram.
"This has just come for you," she said. "I was about to open it."
Taking it from her, he tore open the envelope, and withdrew the message.It was from Robins, and ran as follows:--
"Think am on right track--will report as soon as return."
It had been despatched from Waterloo Station.
"Why did he not say where he was going?" said Jim testily, "instead ofkeeping me in suspense."
"Because he does not like to commit himself before he has more toreport, I suppose," said Alice. "Do not worry yourself about it, dear.You will hear everything in good time."
A long letter from Helen which arrived that evening helped to consoleJim, while the writing of an answer to her enabled him to while awayanother half-hour. But it must be confessed that that evening Jim wasfar from being himself. He felt that he would have given anything tohave accompanied the detective in his search. He went to bed at an earlyhour, to dream that he was chasing Murbridge round the world, and dowhat he would he could not come up with him. Next day there was no news,and it was not until the middle of the day following that he heardanything. Then another telegram arrived, stating that the detectivewould call at the hotel between eight and nine o'clock that evening. Hedid so, and the first glimpse of his face told Jim that his errand hadas usual been fruitless.
"I can see," he said, "that you have not met with any success. Is thatnot so?"
"I'm sorry, sir," the man answered. "Information was brought me the daybefore yesterday that a man answering in every way the description ofthe person we wanted had pawned a small portmanteau at a shop in theMile End Road, and on making enquiries there, I heard that he had cometo lodge at a house in one of the streets in the vicinity. Accompaniedby one of my mates, I went to the house in question, only to discoverthat we were too late again, and that the man had left for Southamptonthat morning, intending to catch the out-going boat for South Africa.Procuring a cab, I set off for Waterloo, and on my arrival there sentthat telegram to you, sir, and then went down to Southampton by the nexttrain. Unfortunately the two hours' delay had given him his chance, forwhen I reached Southampton it was only to find that the vessel hadsailed half-an-hour before. I went at once to the Agent's office, whereI discovered that a man whose appearance tallied exactly with thedescription given had booked a steerage passage at the last moment, andhad sailed aboard her. But if he's got out of England safely, we'llcatch him at Madeira. The police there will arrest him, and hold him forus until we can get him handed over. He does not know that I am upon histrack, and for that reason he'll be sure to think he's got safely away."
"We must hope to catch him at Madeira then. The vessel does not touch atany port between, I suppose?"
Robins shook his head.
"No, Madeira is the first port of call. And now, sir, I'll bid yougood-night, if you don't mind. I've had a long day of it, and I'm tired.To-morrow morning I've got to be abroad early on another little casewhich is causing me a considerable amount of anxiety."
Jim bade him good-night and then went in search of his sister, only tofind that she had a bad headache, an
d had gone to bed. After theexcitement of the day bed was out of the question, so donning a hat andcoat he left the hotel for a stroll. He walked quietly along Piccadilly,smoking his cigar, and thinking of the girl who had promised to be hiswife, and who, at the moment, was probably thinking of him in the quietlittle Midlandshire village. How delightful life would be when she wouldbe his wife. He tried to picture himself in the capacity of Helen'shusband. From Helen his thoughts turned to Murbridge, and he tried toimagine the guilty wretch, flying across the seas, flattering himselfcontinually that he had escaped the punishment he so richly deserved,finding more security in every mile of water the vessel left behind her,little dreaming that justice was aware of his flight, and that Nemesiswas waiting for him so short a time ahead.
Reaching Piccadilly Circus, he walked on until he arrived at LeicesterSquare. As the sky had become overcast, and a thin drizzle was beginningto fall, he called a hansom, and bade the driver take him back to hishotel. The horse started off, and they were soon proceeding at a fastpace in the direction of Piccadilly. Just as they reached the CriterionTheatre, a man stepped from the pavement, and began to cross the road.Had not the cabman sharply pulled his horse to one side, nothing couldhave saved him from being knocked down. So near a thing was it that Jimsprang to his feet, and threw open the apron, feeling sure that the manwas down. But near though it was, the pedestrian had escaped, and,turning round, was shaking his fist in a paroxysm of rage at the cabman.At that moment he saw Jim, and stood for a second or two as if turned tostone; then, gathering his faculties together, he ducked between twocabs and disappeared.
_That man was Richard Murbridge!_