Chapter 10
He was a miserable looking soul, thought the old man, as the constable opened the door and took him by the arm and moved him into the cell. He stood with bleary eyes and looked across the room at Dickie.
Dickie jumped up and ran to the cell door as the constable went walking down the corridor.
“Constable?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Did you send that message to my brother?”
“I did, sir, you just sit down he’ll be here in no time.”
Dickie limped back to sit on the edge of the bed with his chin in his hands.
The newcomer stood where he was, he wore a silly, drunken grin and swayed a little.
“Lovely day.” Smiled the drunk.
“I wouldn’t know, mate.”
“You’re that lunatic, ain’t ya?” He lurched over to sit beside Dickie.
“You could say that, yes.”
“Fought Rufus, didn’t ya?”
“He fought me.”
“Not me, mate, I wouldn’t fight that bloke. I get drunk and go insane, I attack me missus, but not Rufus, I ain’t that insane.”
“Look, mate,” said Dickie waving a hand in his face, “talk if you have to, but breath in the other direction, otherwise we’ll both be drunk.”
“I like you, mate,” he put his arm with all the fond intimacy drunks reserve for strangers, around Dickie’s shoulder. “You don’t need to be so miserable, cheer up.”
“I wonder if you’ll still say that if you’re between me and my brother when he gets here.”
“Bring him on, go on, bring him on.” The drunk held up his clenched fists as if he were boxing someone.
“You’ll need more than those, mate.”
“The best weapons in the world, mate.”
“I’m talking about my brother, not your bleeding wife.” The drunk sprang in the air, turned in mid–air and retreated backwards into a corner facing the cell door with a look of horror on his face.
“Me wife, help me Mother of God, me wife.” The voice was slurred but hysterical.
The constable stood at the door.
“Did you fellows want a cup of tea, I’ve just made a fresh pot.”
“Yes, please, constable.” Said Dickie.
“Is me wife out there with you?”
“No, your wife is not out here with me. I had to lock her outside the station otherwise she would have killed you.” The constable walked down the corridor.
“You tell her, constable,” he ran to the cell door to call out, “you tell her, constable, I’ve not forgiven her for fighting back.” He came back as if dusting dirt from his hands to sit beside Dickie. “She does that, you know, unless you can get her from behind. It’s a good idea to stun her first, she can be a tricky devil.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll remember that.”
“You know, boy, I like you.” He put his arm around Dickie’s shoulder again.
“I don’t mind you liking me, mate, but you keep trying to burn my eyebrows off with your breath.” As a reward the drunk laughed loudly right in Dickie’s face. He had to get to his feet or face the prospect of passing out again.
“There’s no need to be miserable, mate, it may not happen.”
“My brother’s on the way, when I give him the news I’ve got, he’ll be dancing on my corpse, if you’re here to see it, you might try to cheer him up.”
”That’s nice of you to ask me, mate,” said the drunk in all seriousness, “I’ll try and make you proud of me.”
“Marvelous.”
“If he does that to you, can I have your boots?”
“What about the gold fillings in my teeth?”
“You know, mate,” the drunk was up and had his arm around Dickie, “we’re strangers, but you’re real generous. Can I see ‘em?”
“No, you can’t see them.”
The constable stood at the cell door with a tray in his hands and no expression on his face. Dickie lay on the floor, the drunk sat on his chest trying to pry his mouth open.
“Gentlemen?” Asked the constable calmly.
The drunk got to his feet to run over and take a cup of steaming tea through the bars. Dickie came limping over rubbing his sore chin.
“Thank you, constable.”
“I do hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”
“Does he have to be in the same bleedin’ cell as me?” Demanded Dickie.
“It looked to me as though you two were enjoying yourselves.”
“Oh, yes, indeed, we were enjoying ourselves no end, weren’t we?” Asked Dickie.
“You promised me some gold fillings.”
“Are you a dentist?” Asked the constable standing out in the corridor sipping his tea.
“No, I am not a dentist.” Said Dickie.
“Out of his mouth, constable.” Said the drunk.
“When I’m dead, can you wait that long?”
“You promise?”
”I do.”
“You heard him, constable?” The constable nodded with a dazed expression, the drunk edged closer to the door to ask in a loud whisper. “Is there any sign of the brother?”
“Not yet.”
“His brother’s a dancer, ain’t he?” Asked in a normal voice.
“Is he?”
“He’s gonna dance on your corpse, ain’t he?” He asked Dickie.
“Haglin, have you got a bottle in there?” Demanded the constable.
“I haven’t, maybe the big bloke has.”
There was a loud knocking on the door down the corridor. The constable took the two cups on the tray and went down to open it.
“Can I see ‘em?” Asked the drunk.
“No, you can’t see ‘em.” Said Dickie.
“If that’s your brother they’ll be mine soon anyway.”
“Get your hands off me.” The drunk was trying to force his mouth open.
It was George. He and the constable stood at the door with expressionless faces. Dickie lay on the floor, the drunk was sitting on his chest trying to pry his mouth open again.
“Gentlemen?” Asked the constable, the drunk got to his feet.
“Me wife, help me Mother of God, me wife!” He screamed as he retreated to a corner.
“Dear me.” Sighed Dickie as he got to his feet and limped over to sit on the bed.
“Now, no violence.” Ordered the constable of George as he walked down the corridor.
“Of course not, constable.” George thrust a demonic face at the bars, “Dickie, if you’ve got me here to waste my time……”
“Me wife, help me….”
“Shut up!” Said George, the drunk did so smiled and came walking over to stand near George.
“I’ve got good news, George.”
“You’re the brother, ain’t ya?” Asked the smiling drunk.
“Yes, I am. What news, Richard?”
“Tell me, sir, is it a weakness you have dancin’ on corpses?” Asked the drunk.
“Only on the corpses of brothers and drunks.”
“The coins……”
“Are ya gonna dance on him?”
“After I dance on you, you silly little man, if you don’t go away.”
“George, the coins…..”
“You won’t hurt his mouth, will ya?”
“No, I won’t hurt his mouth.”
“George……”
“And his boots, he promised me his boots.”
“Did you want his feet in them too?”
“That’s morbid, that is, morbid.”
“George……”
“Look, mate,” George reached through the bars to take the drunk by the throat.
“Me wife,” he shouted in George’s face, “God in Heaven…..”
“Shut up.” He pushed the drunk across the room.
“You did give me a turn.” Smiled the drunk as he bounced against the wall which apparently knocked him back to reality.
“George……..”
 
; “I’m still waiting, Richard……”
“George……”
“How long do I have to stand here before you decide to tell me what you want?”
“You don’t want to know.” Said Dickie impatiently.
“Richard…..” Began George grimly.
“No, you don’t want to hear.” He folded his arms.
“You.” George turned to the drunk. “You said you wanted his boots, didn’t you?”
“And his gold fillings.”
“Yeah, his gold fillings, you still want them?”
“I can wait until you’re finished.”
“If he doesn’t talk you don’t get them.”
“What?” Asked a startled Dickie.
“You’re not asking me to torture your own brother?”
“Yes, I am, get him.”
“George…..”
“Not cruelty, I won’t have nothin’ to do with cruelty.” Said the drunk grandly.
“You don’t have to be cruel.”
“George……”
“I mean I can just twist his arm a little, I do that to the wife, she loves it, of course she’s a little stunned at the time.”
“That’s right, get him.”
“I’ll talk.”
“I ain’t started yet.” Said the drunk sadly.
“I’ll talk, I’ll talk.” He jumped to his feet.
“Come over here, Richard.” Said George with a smile.
“I’ll talk, George, I’ll talk. Keep him off me.”
“Back. Go on, get back.” Ordered George and the drunk obediently did so. “Now, Richard, what have you got to tell me?” Said George soothingly.
“The owner of the pub has got the coins, he found them and he’s willing to let us have them.” Dickie looked at the drunk and then glanced back at the door, it was empty. He limped over to call out to his brother who he could hear running down the corridor. “George, George, he’ll sell ‘em to us, George.” Dickie waited in silence with his hands on the bars, the drunk walked over to stand beside him.
“He didn’t hear you.”
“He heard me alright.” Dickie turned his head slightly to look at the drunk, when he turned back a thing with a vivid face stood before him, before he could move, a pair of huge hands were between the bars and around his throat.
“Me wife, in the name of God, me wife!” The drunk was over in the corner in seconds.
“What did you say, Richard?” Asked a grim George as he proceeded to choke the life from his brother.
“Don’t hurt his mouth, mate.” Called the drunk coming back to reality once again.
“I’m not hurting his mouth,” said George squeezing his hands together, “it’s his throat I’m hurting.”
“You don’t get a purple face like that without doing something to the mouth.”
George eased up the pressure just enough for Dickie to breath.
“Did you say he’ll sell them to us, Richard?”
“Yes.” Gasped Dickie.
“They’re our coins, Richard, ours.”
“I know, I know.”
“How much does he want, Richard?”
“Fifty…..fifty…….”
“Fifty what, Richard?”
“Fifty pounds.”
“Fifty pounds!” Roared George.
“Me wife, God in Heaven, me wife.”
“That’s robbery, Richard, the man is trying to rob us, Richard.”
“I didn’t ask for fifty pounds, George.”
“No, that’s right.” George let him go, he had a strange look in his eyes as he stood at the door while Dickie limped as far away as he could. “I must go and see our friend with the coins.”
“We haven’t got fifty pounds, George.” Croaked Dickie.
“That’s alright, lad, we can fix that.” George walked off.
“Hey, mate,” the drunk ran over to the cell door, “aren’t you goin’ to dance on him?” He turned with his back to the door to lean against it with his arms folded on his chest. “Typical, ain’t it? Can’t trust a soul these days.”
“Dear.” Came a small voice behind him.
“Me wife, help me, me wife!” He sprang back and ran to join Dickie as far from the door as he could.
A small, frail woman stood at the door, she wore a friendly smile behind a pair of gold-rimmed glasses.
“Keep away from me, do you hear? Keep away from me.” He huddled against Dickie for protection.
“I brought you something to eat, dear.”
“Now she’s trying to poison me.”
Dickie grabbed him by the arm and dragged him over to the door with a smile on his face as the drunk howled with terror.
“Take your hands off my husband, young man.” She said sternly.
“Missus I was only trying…….” She reached in with her umbrella to hook it around Dickie’s neck and pulled him to the bars, while with her other hand with the strength of a demon she pulled his nose.
“Don’t hurt his mouth, don’t hurt his mouth.”
The constable was just reaching for his cup of tea when he heard screaming from down the corridor. “Help, police, help.”
By the time the constable reached the cell the woman had one of Dickie’s legs pulled through the bars trying to use it to pull the rest of his body from the cell. The drunk sat on his chest trying to force his mouth open.
George was halfway to the ‘Starved Sailor’ with a strange grin on his face when suddenly he stopped in his tracks. “Fifty pounds!” He bellowed in the empty street. “Where in the name of Heaven do I get fifty pounds?”
He stomped back past the police station, oblivious to Dickie’s frantic screams as the constable fought to free him from two maniacs.
George went back home to tell Grace and Charlie the bad news.
“That’s it then, ain’t it?” Was all Charlie said.
“Thanks to our brother, who has taken just about every penny we had and left us with nothing to show for it.” Said George grimly.
“We could have five hundred pounds.” Said Grace as she sat at the table with folded arms.
“I just told you, woman……”
“Try to use your brains, George.” She said and George scowled at her.“This Clifford bloke is very keen to get those coins, isn’t he?”
“He was here yesterday,” said Charlie, “and this morning.”
“Why not ask him for a loan of the fifty pounds and he can take that off the money he pays us for the coins?”
“He wouldn’t do it.” Said Charlie.
“What’s to stop him just going up there and paying the fifty pounds and getting the coins?” Asked George.
“He won’t,” said Grace, “he’s a gentleman. He thinks he’s got an agreement with us. All we can do is ask him, unless you two can get fifty pounds?” They sat in glum silence. “He said he’d come back later this afternoon, we’ll ask him then.” She wasn’t making a suggestion, she was issuing an order.
When Clifford came and George asked him for a loan of fifty pounds to be taken off the final sum, to the latter’s amazement the former agreed to it after a few minutes thought. They promised him they would have the coins by that night or the next day without fail.
After their guest had left the two brothers set off grimly for the ‘Starved Sailor.’
“They’ll have to change that sign when we’re finished.” George said to his brother as they looked up at the sign.
“To what?”
“The Strangled Innkeeper.”
They went into the warmth of the room. A few people stood at the bar, a few sat on benches around the walls. They crossed the room to reach the bar.
“There was a lot of noise at that police station, George, when we went past it.” Said Charlie.
“It’s more like a mad house than a police station.”
“Good afternoon, gentlemen, what’ll it be?” Smiled the innkeeper as he stepped up to serve them.
“You’ve got some coins of o
urs.” Said George.
“They belong to a big fellow.”
“That’s our brother.”
“Have you got the money?” George placed money down on the bar.
“Now, where’s our coins?”
“Not so fast, brother,” the innkeeper smiled as a stout man came strolling in, he stood puffing at the bar and mopped his brow with a handkerchief. “So good of you to come Mr Manse.”
“A drink, if you please, sir.”
“Of course, this is on me.” He smiled as he poured a drink and handed it to him. The glass was drained in one gulp and held out to be refilled and that too was emptied in one gulp.
“That’s better.” Sighed Mr Manse.
“So good of you to come, I know how busy……”
“Where are they?” He asked curtly, the innkeeper placed a piece of cloth on the bar, wordlessly Manse opened it and spread a small pile of coins out on it.
“Hey, they’re ours.” Said George angrily.
“Do you mind.” Said Manse curtly as he looked over at George with a sharp, cold expression and went back to the coins. He examined each in turn, then without a word tied them up in the cloth to hand it back to the Innkeeper. “My glass is empty.”
The innkeeper rushed to refill it.
“Well, Mr Manse, what do you think, how much do you reckon they’re worth?”
“Twenty pounds.” He drained his glass. “Twenty pounds the lot.”
“Twenty pounds!” Snorted Charlie and George stepped on his foot.
“You’re some kind of expert on coins, are you, Mr Manse.” Asked George with a smile.
“I consider myself to be such.” He replied coldly.
“You’re a pretty smart fellow, too?” Manse looked at him coldly but the expression in his eyes said that of course he was. “Innkeeper, I’d like to buy our coin expert a drink.” Manse accepted the drink with silence and drained it swiftly.
“Well, innkeeper, do you, or do you not intend to take my offer?”
“Twenty pounds, Mr Manse?”
“Twenty pounds, sir.”
“The sum is not very large…….”
“I’ll not haggle, sir, twenty pound is my final offer, take it or leave it.”
“I have a better offer, sir.”
“Suit yourself,” he turned to go, “thank you for the drink, sir, good day to you.” He said to George and strolled from the pub.
“Innkeeper, my brother and I would like a drink, if you please.” George smiled as two drinks were poured out. “May we have our coins now?” The cloth was placed on the bar, George drained his glass, wiped his lips and carefully counted the money.
“That’s only twenty one pounds.” Said the innkeeper with narrowed eyes.
“That sir, is our final offer.”
“Bah!” The innkeeper took back the cloth.
“But, George……”
“Finish your drink, Charlie, we don’t want to waste our host’s valuable time.” George took up his money.
“Our bargain was for fifty pounds.”
“There was no bargain, sir, we had no bargain. I was told you were willing to return our coins, and we were quite prepared to reward you for their return.”
“But what about the damage that ox of a brother of yours did to my place.”
“That’s something you’d best take up with the ox. Finished Charlie?” They both turned to go.
“Wait. Twenty five pounds?”
“Twenty one, sir, not a penny more.”
“What’s so valuable about these damn things, anyway?”
“They have great sentimental value to our family, they belonged to our aged parent and his aged parent before him.”
“But, George………”
“Shut up, Charlie.” He said calmly, “well, sir?”
“But what about the damage?”
“Our only concern is for the safety of those coins so thoughtlessly lost by our brother. Let me warn you, sir, we have only just so much patience.”
The innkeeper hesitated then pushed the cloth across the bar with impatience. “Here, take the ruddy things.”
“Thank you, sir.” George counted out the money to hand to the innkeeper and then he and Charlie left.
They went straight to the police station.
“……..I like you, you’re a good man.” Came the voice of the drunk.
“Get your hands off me.”
“I didn’t mean it, I was only joking.”
“Speaking of hands, I hope you wash them before you go shoving them in my mouth. Do you own a horse?”
“As a matter of fact, I do, he looks a lot like you. A big, lazy bloke. Why?”
“Next time use a shovel, not your hands.”
“Richard.” George and Charlie stood smiling at the bars of the door.
“Me wife, in the name of God, me wife.”
“Where? Where?” Screeched a terrified Dickie.
They were both on their feet and huddled in the corner as far from the door as possible.
“Will you stop doing that.” Said Dickie impatiently.
“Richard.” George held out the cloth and jingled it.
“You got me coins?” Dickie smiled and came over to take the cloth and open it.
“It’s a miracle.” Said Charlie getting carried away.
“You’ve made me a very happy man, Richard.” Said George.
“Wait a minute.” Dickie frowned over the coins in his hand.
“What is it, Richard?” Asked George.
“There’s two missing,” he looked up and returned to count them again, “there’s two missing.”
“What did you say, Richard?” George wore a frozen smile.
“Look,” he came over to the bars to hold the cloth under George’s nose and counted them, “two of ‘em are missing.”
Back down the corridor the policeman was just finishing a piece of paper work, he sat back in his chair to stretch his arms.
“Help, police, help!”
He jumped to his feet and ran down to the cell. Charlie had one of Dickie’s arms, George had the other, he lay on his back as they were trying to drag him through the bars, the drunk sat on his chest trying to force his mouth open. The constable had to force the two brothers away and made them stand against the wall opposite the door. Then he reached in to use his stick to hit the drunk over the head, the drunk jumped up and ran to a corner with his usual screech about ‘me wife.’
“Are you alright, sir?” He knelt down to look at the panting Dickie.
“Where has that man had his hands?” He gasped as he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. The constable helped him through the bars to get to his feet. “I’m alright, constable, thank you. I must confess I will miss the grand times I’ve had here if I’m ever released.”
“You can see sir,” the constable shook his head sadly, “when you begin a life of crime there is a terrible price to pay with regards to friends and relatives.”
“We must get together, constable, and talk about the price of leading a life of murder.” Dickie was looking at his two brothers as he spoke.
“Now, look you two,” the constable warned them, “you’re to stand here, if you go anywhere near that door I’ll chuck you both out. You let me know when you want them to leave, sir.” He patted Dickie on the shoulder and walked back down the corridor.
“Have you both gone mad?” He demanded as he leaned against the bars of the door.
“You stupid ox.” Said George grimly.
“I’ve had these coins for years, nobody wanted them.”
“Are you sure there’s two missing, Dickie?” Asked Charlie.
“Of course, I am.”
“That’s why Manse offered so little.” Said George. “The set’s not complete.”
“Offer, what offer?”
“Twenty pounds, Dickie.”
“For this lot?” Dickie pointed to the coins on the floor.
“That’s right, Richard, for that lot
.” George was looking at him with narrowed eyes. “But we had a better offer, and we could have got the money tonight, but thanks to you we’re not going to get it now.”
“How much was it?” He asked George and then turned to Charlie, “how much was it, Charlie?”
“Tell him, Charlie.”
The constable was sitting at his desk thinking of making a cup of tea, he thought he felt a thud on the ground through his feet, he got up and walked over to the head of the corridor. The two brothers stood against the wall calmly looking at the floor of the cell in front of them.
Everything seemed in order so he shrugged his shoulders and returned to his desk.
It was a miserable looking Dickie who sat on the edge of his bed, Haglin was leaning with his back against the door watching his friend calmly.
“You haven’t forgotten your promise, Dickie?”
“What promise is that, mate?”
“You were going to give me the gold fillings in your teeth.”
“Can I put your mind at rest on this? Can I really say the last word on it?”
“If you want to.”
“I haven’t got any bleedin’ gold fillings.” He said coldly.
“In other words, you’re goin’ back on your promise, I knew you would.”
“Are you deaf?”
“It’s like the constable said, you start to lead a criminal life you act like a criminal.”
Dickie sat in deep silence as he looked at Haglin with hooded eyes.
“I thought we were friends.” Said Haglin.
“I promise you that when I die you can have every gold filling in my head.”
“I knew it.” Smiled Haglin as he sprang across the room to sit beside Dickie and put his arm around his shoulder. “I said to myself, Dickie is the honest type, a true friend. can I see them.” He was about to reach for Dickie’s mouth.
“Don’t start that again.”
“No, no, I won’t, sorry.”
“It’s a pity I haven’t got some gold fillings.” Dickie mumbled to himself, “after the hangin’ judge gets his hands on me tomorrow I’m goin’ to really need money.”
“Hangin’ judge? You mean Hangin’ Judge Thomas?”
“That’s him.”
“Have you got to face him tomorrow as well?”
“Well might you ask, mate.
“What did you do?”
“Just tore down a place called the ‘Starved Sailor.’”
“That means you face the same magistrate as me, but it ain’t Thomas, he’s in the next county. We’ll be facing Gentle John.”
“Gentle John?”
“He never fines anyone. I’ve been before him three times, I just tell him about my poor wife and our six little babies, he gets a tear in his eyes, calls me a bad fellow who should be ashamed of meself and warns me not to come before him again. The kindest, gentlest man you could ever hope to face in a courtroom.”
“Gentle John, you said?”
“A lovely man.”
“Not Hangin’ Judge Thomas?”
“That’s right.”
“He won’t fine me? He’ll release me?”
“Yeah.”
The constable was just pouring himself a cup of tea, he took a bite on a biscuit and was raising the cup to his lips when he heard the familiar call: “Help, police, help!”
He sighed and put the cup down to go stomping up the corridor. Haglin stood at the door with bulging eyes, Dickie was up the far end of the cell doing a little dance and singing to himself.
“What is it now, Haglin?”
“You’ve got to put me in another cell.”
“Why?”
“It’s ‘im.” Haglin nodded to Dickie over his shoulder.
“It’s quite a change to see him happy for once.”
“He kissed me.”
“He what?” Asked the constable in disbelief.
“He kissed me, here,” he tapped one cheek and then the other, “and here.”
“He kissed you?”
“Twice.”
“Come out of there,” he was unlocking the cell door, “the poor chap has obviously gone insane.” He took Haglin out and closed the door and followed him to the next cell where he opened the door to let Haglin in and closed and locked it. He shook his head as he walked back down the corridor, “kissed him.” He shook his head again.
“Constable, constable!”
He stopped in his tracks and retraced his steps. “Yes, Haglin?”
“It’s too lonely in this cell, I miss me friend, take me back.”
“Will it be safe?”
“I can look after meself.”
“I was thinking of him.” Said the constable nodding at the sound of Dickie singing as he unlocked the door. He took Haglin out and led him back to Dickie’s cell.
Dickie was still dancing and singing to himself as Haglin sat on the bed as far away as he could.
“That’s wonderful news.” Laughed Dickie as he sat down on the further end of the bed to catch his breath.
Haglin watched him with narrow, suspicious eyes, he reached down to take one of his boots off without taking his eyes from Dickie. Then he sat with the boot held in his hand.
“Now, you keep away from me.”
“I might actually face a magistrate without costing my family any money.” Said Dickie with a pleased smile and completely oblivious to the fact that Haglin had left and returned.
“You will call me if there’s any more trouble?” Smiled the constable standing at the door.
“You don’t need to worry about that, constable,” said Haglin grimly with his eyes on Dickie, “you’ll hear me if there is.”
Lee just couldn’t face Cynthia, so for most of the afternoon he’d made himself scarce. She had gone looking for him but had not been able to find him. She was too deliriously happy to begin with, for any disappointment or concern. After a fruitless search she decided to sit with an unusually silent Cloud to watch the gathering darkness.
“Where has Mr Lee disappeared to, Mr Cloud?”
“I can’t rightly say, miss, he needs exercise so I expect he’s gone for a run to the village.”
“He’s been gone an awfully long time hasn’t he?” Cloud just shrugged his shoulders.
“Hello, hello.” Smiled Haddington as he came upon them and took a seat.
“I think I’ll go inside,” said Cloud getting to his feet, “it’s too cold for me.” He nodded to them and went strolling into the house a cigarette dangling from his lips.
“Americans,” smiled Haddington, “their blood is too thin for our climate, I’m afraid.”
“Yes.” Said Cynthia.
“Quiet an exhibition the young fellow put on this afternoon, wasn’t it?”
“Exhibition, Your Lordship?”
“Two-Refs, floored the lot of ‘em, even Reggie. He did it for you, you know.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” She tried to sound cross, but she wore a slight smile and her cheeks coloured a little.
‘What a charming creature she is.’ Thought Haddington as he watched her in profile and caught her reaction.
“I believe he’s rather taken with you, for which I cannot blame him, you are a very attractive young lady.”
“Thank you.”
“I suppose you’ve made your choice by now?”
“What choice, Your Lordship?”
“Come, come, my dear, between Reggie and young Lee.”
“I think that that is none of your business.” Again she tried in vain to sound cross. Then she looked straight at the old man. “He is rather wonderful, isn’t he?”
“Is he?” Smiled Haddington.
“So strong and yet so very gentle.” She wore a tender smile as she thought of him. Haddington sat in silence just looking calmly at her.
Supper was a rather dull affair. Cloud lacked any vitality as he told one or two stories that fell flat. Cynthia had made every effort to sit next to Lee, but to her su
rprise, found him cold and uninterested in anything she had to say. So their part of the table was enveloped in a frozen silence.
Clarence and Winterhaiming kept up a constant stream of conversation, most of which was very boring.
The only lively one was Sir Rupert who sat scribbling note after note to pass them to Lady Marlebone.
“He’s written,” she said to Clarence reading a note out loud, “that he agrees with you.”
“Agrees with me about what?” Asked Clarence.
Lady Marlebone waited patiently as Sir Rupert wrote out a note and handed it to her.
“Your remarks about Mr Garth.” She read.
“I didn’t mention Mr Garth.”
Everybody waited for Sir Rupert to finish writing. “You mentioned blockhead.” She read.
“I did?” Clarence stroked his chin as he thought back on what he’d said, “but that wasn’t in reference to Mr Garth.”
“Same thing, same thing.” Read Lady Marlebone.
“On the contrary, I consider blockhead hardly a fitting description of Mr Garth, demented lunatic is more accurate.”
Everybody waited once again, only Lord Haddington began to show signs of impatience, he began to fidget with a knife.
“Demented lunatic is too strong,” she read, “you were right the first time when you called him a blockhead.”
“Gentlemen…….” Sighed Lord Haddington.
“I did not call him a blockhead, I did not even mention Garth, did I Winterhaiming?”
“If you please, gentlemen…..”
“No, no you did not.”
“Clarence…..”
“If I had used the word blockhead, I certainly would not have been speaking of Garth.”
“There is no need to be ashamed,” read Lady Marlebone, “because you called Mr Garth a blockhead.”
“I did not……..”
“Clarence.” Said Haddington firmly.
“Yes, Your Lordship?”
“Why in the name of Heaven don’t you just say how pleased you are that Sir Rupert agrees with your observation?”
“Because it doesn’t…..”
“Do you want us to be here all night?”
Clarence looked down at Sir Rupert expectantly poised over a sheet of paper. Clarence shook his head.
“I’m very pleased, Sir Rupert, that you agree with my observation.” He said with a weak effort at enthusiasm.
Sir Rupert scribbled away and handed the note to Lady Marlebone then he sat back with a pleased expression as he folded his arms on his chest.
“It says,” she looked up at Clarence, “’I told you so.’” Clarence began to splutter. Lord Haddington quickly jumped to his feet to tap a glass with a knife.
“Ladies and gentlemen, as you all know, next Wednesday I shall be celebrating my birthday and because you’ve all been such wonderful guests I hope you’ll all accept my invitation and stay to help me…..”
Sir Rupert began to scribble as Haddington watched him in silence, he handed the note to Lady Marlebone. “He’s written, ‘I accept, I accept.’”
“Yes, I knew he would,” sighed Haddington, “as I was saying, I hope you’ll all….”
“I don’t think we can, Your Lordship.” Said Lee.
“That’s true, Clem.” Said Cloud.
“Pardon?” Haddington asked Lee.
“We’ve got to get back home.”
“But I insist, gentlemen.”
“We can’t, Clem, we gotta be on our way.”
“And Cynthia insists.”
“It’s of no concern to me whether Mr Lee stays or goes.” Said Cynthia icily.
“Good.” Said Lee.
Haddington looked from one to the other.
‘Don’t tell me these young fools have had a lover’s quarrel already?’ He thought with raised eyebrows.
“I’m sorry gentlemen, I just cannot allow either of you to leave.”
“Why not?” Asked Cloud with a worried frown.
“The celebrations would be a failure without the presence of you two fellows, I was hoping Two-Refs would put on a boxing exhibition, something like his efforts today should be sufficient. I’m quite willing to pay you for your time.”
“That sounds mighty good to me, how about you, Two-Refs?” Lee just shrugged his shoulders, “you can take that as an acceptance, Clem.” Smiled Cloud.
“Excellent, excellent.”
Sir Rupert handed a note to Lady Marlebone. “It will be a wonderful day….”
“Yes, yes.” Said Haddington impatiently.
“……it will be a wonderful day.” She finished reading.
He took long strides to try and out-walk her but she followed him out into the garden and across the lawn to the trees.
“Why are you treating me like this?” She demanded as she stamped one of her feet fighting anger and sorrow.
“I am treating you no differently than I have before.” He said haughtily.
“What’s happened? Why have you changed?” She walked over to stand beside him, but he turned his back on her, mainly because he couldn’t face her.
“I think it might be better if we don’t see each other anymore, if we just forget everything that’s passed between us.”
“You know that’s impossible.” She reached up to place her hand on his arm, but he stepped away from her. “You said you wanted to marry me.”
“That was a mistake.” He still kept his back to her.
“Jerome……”
“Why not just end the whole thing here and now, and we can be just good friends, otherwise I’ll have to say things I don’t want to say.”
“What do you mean?”
He steeled himself and turned to face her.
“I know why you came here, you came to catch a rich husband. You thought you’d sink your hooks into me.”
“How dare you.” She hissed as her eyes turned very cold, she walked up to face him and gathered all the strength she could to slap him, “how dare you.” She repeated as she turned her head away.
“Goodbye, Cynthia.” He strode away.
She stumbled over to a bench and sat sobbing softly, suddenly Miss Blackie was beside her looking up with a worried little face, Cynthia looked down and picked the cat up to cuddle it as she continued to sob.
Lee heard the sobs as he walked away, each one was like a knife plunged into his heart, if Cloud had been standing in front of him at that moment Lee would have gladly strangled him.
Clarence was just finishing a glass of wine with the thought of retiring when Sir Rupert came strolling into the room. He sat down in a chair facing the solicitor wearing a glum expression.
“To your health, Sir Rupert.” Smiled Clarence as he raised his glass to drain the last drops.
“Thank you.”
The glass stopped in mid-air. “You have your voice back.”
“Of course, yes, I do have my voice back, you are right, Clarence, I do have my voice back.”
“I think it’s time for me to retire.” He drained the glass quickly.
“I am in a most wretched state, Clarence, it is impossible for me to convey to you in words my wretched, wretched state.”
“It’s quite late, Sir Rupert, perhaps if you think over your wretched state and convey it to me in words tomorrow.”
“I am in dire need of advice, Clarence, I am in very dire need of advice.”
“Why not come to my room in the morning…….”
“Legal advice.”
“I have a friend in the village…….”
“On a most delicate matter, a matter that can only be discussed by friends.”
“And it must be discussed now, I take it?” Sighed Clarence resignedly. Sir Rupert got to his feet to walk up and down.
“Clarence what if I were to tell you that because of me a man forfeited his life?”
“Do you mean suicide?”
“Because of what I’ve….no, I don’t mean suicide. What makes you think someon
e would take their life because of me?”
“Talk, constant repetitive talk.” Said the wine.
“Dare you suggest, sir, that I am a gossip? Is that it, a gossip, me? The very embodiment of sealed lips?”
Clarence had to be very firm to keep a restraining hand on the wine he had drunk, it forced a reply to his tongue, which he managed to hold in his throat.
“I’m sorry, Sir Rupert, I was being foolish.”
“Foolish? Far worse than foolish, foolishness is harmless enough, but not inaccuracy. I can forgive you foolishness, but to be inaccurate!”
Clarence had been put in a jolly mood and as Sir Rupert stood in a dramatic pose pointing an accusing finger he began to chuckle, he reached into his pocket to take out his handkerchief and hold it to his face.
Sir Rupert’s face fell as he stood watching the solicitor apparently weeping, he sprang across the room to pat him on the back.
“There, there, old man, don’t take it so hard.” This only made Clarence’s laughing fit worse, “you’re not inaccurate, there you are, I admit it, you’re not inaccurate. Smile to show me you feel better.”
Clarence removed his handkerchief to smile at Sir Rupert, this took no effort, but he had to hide his face once again as he shook with laughter.
“I had no idea the fellow was so sensitive.” Muttered Sir Rupert to himself as he walked to stand a short distance away. “In Heaven’s name, Clarence, get a grip on yourself, next thing I know you’ll be swooning.”
“I am sorry, Sir Rupert.” With an effort he managed to control himself as he returned his handkerchief to his pocket.
“That’s better. If anyone should be in tears it is I.”
“Indeed, Sir Rupert.”
“I carry a deep secret here,” he pointed to his chest, “in my heart. A secret that gives me no rest.”
“Is this by any chance the dark secret you were discussing with the vicar?”
“You know?” Sir Rupert covered his face with his hands in horror. “You know?”
“Not really, Sir…..”
“I am undone.” He said with a look of pain as he sat down in his chair. “Everyone knows my secret.”
“Sir Rupert…..”
“Now that you know, Clarence, tell me what am I to do.”
“I can’t say…..”
“Should I give myself up, even though I may hang if I do?”
“The point is, Sir…..hang?” Clarence was in the grip of the wine again so he wore an evil smile on his lips. “You did say hang, Sir Rupert?”
“It’s a terrible decision. To be parted from my loved ones and my friends forever, to go into eternal silence.”
“Silence?” The wine was well and truly in command now. “It is my considered opinion, Sir Rupert, that you give yourself up.”
“But what if they hang me, Clarence? I, a young man with my whole life ahead of me.”
“You’ve committed a foul deed…..”
“Yes, I have.” He hung his head.
“If you pay for that deed your conscience will be eased and your soul will rest in peace.”
“But my friends, Clarence, my friends will so sorely miss me.”
“It’s a sacrifice they will have to make.”
“Could you bear to see me go? A man you’ve looked up to all your life?”
Clarence had a terrific battle with the wine before he spoke. “My heart will be heavy, Sir Rupert.”
“There you are, do you think I could rest with the thought that I’d caused suffering to all my friends? Do you think they’ll let me off with a warning, if I were to promise never to do it again?”
“Perhaps if you were to tell me all the details, Sir Rupert, we might be able to manage something.” Clarence poured himself a fresh glass of wine.
“As you know I murdered this Plant.”
“You murdered a plant?”
“A Plant? Is that his name?”
“Is that whose name?”
“You said A. Plant.”
“Did I?”
“Yes. What does the A stand for?”
“It just stands for a. A plant.”
“Strange fellow.” Mused Sir Rupert.
“Who’s a strange fellow?”
“This Plant.
“What plant?”
“The Plant I murdered.”
“You murdered a…..” Clarence stopped and looked at his untouched glass of wine, then decided he’d had enough so he returned it to the table and left it there. “You murdered this plant, you said?”
“Yes, A. Plant.”
“A plant.” Repeated Clarence. “How did you…..”
“How did I do A. Plant in?”
“Yes.”
“My cane. I prodded the chap too hard, you see, insolent fellow he was, wouldn’t answer my questions.”
“Probably no tongue.”
“I decided after I’d …..done him in that he was probably a mute, but it was too late by then, his pitiful life was over. A sickly chap he was, thin and green.”
“Thin and green?”
“That’s right.”
“Called plant?”
“A Plant.”
“A Plant.” Nodded Clarence.
“I didn’t know his name was Plant until Clem told me.”
“Lord Haddington told you he was called Plant, did he?”
“That’s right, now you tell me his first name is A.”
“A. Plant?”
“And the A stands for just A, does it?”
“Oh, I see what you mean, no, the A stands for Artichoke.”
“Artichoke Plant.”Said Sir Rupert sadly.
“Yes, a fine chap he was.”
“Such a poor, forlorn name, Artichoke Plant.”
“His mother was heartbroken.”
“Mother? Clem told me he was an orphan.”
“Of course he was, I was thinking of Mr Bush.”
“Poor chap.”
“Mr Bush?” Asked Clarence.
“No.”
“You mean Artichoke?”
“Yes.” Nodded Sir Rupert sadly.
“He’ll be sadly missed.
“But he was sickly.”
“Yes, he was, and very thin.” Agreed Clarence.
“A sickly green.”
“And you came along to cut his poor life short.”
“I’m the most wretched of God’s creatures.”
“You must turn yourself over to the authorities.”
“Yes, I must.”
“It means prison, a long trial and then a public hanging.”
“He was such a small chap perhaps the authorities won’t be really interested.”
“The law is the law, Sir Rupert.”
“Perhaps we could blame someone else?”
“Sir Rupert!”
“We’d pay ‘em.”
“What did you do with the body?”
“Oh, Clem buried it in the garden.”
“Clem buried it….I mean, Lord Haddington buried it in the garden?”
“Yes, he said Mr Plant would be happy there.”
“Your brother has placed himself in a terrible position.”
“He has?” Frowned Sir Rupert.
“This makes him an accessory.”
“That means he’s equally guilty, doesn’t it?” Smiled Sir Rupert.
“To a degree.”
“Even if he calls the authorities?” He was still smiling.
“His position would not be good.”
“Thank you, Clarence,” he sprang across the room to shake his hand. “Do you realise you’ve just cured my loss of voice problem.”
“Have I?”
“You have indeed, and made me in debt to you for the rest of my life. Goodnight.” He smiled as he strolled from the room humming.
“How odd, how very odd.” Said Clarence as he took up his glass of wine once again.
Breakfast the next morning was more subdued than usual. Lee was avoiding Cynthia when
ever he could; he took a longer run so that breakfast would be finished when he got back.
Cynthia had decided to avoid Lee so she persuaded Winterhaiming to walk in the early morning sunshine, it meant missing his breakfast but Winterhaiming sensed that she was more receptive to his proposal, that all he needed to do was press the point.
Haddington came strolling into the breakfast room in excellent spirits, he began to rub his hands in anticipation as he took a seat at the table. Cloud just nodded glumly as he sipped at his cup of tea. Clarence was paying for drinking too much wine so late the night before as he sat with a hand half over his eyes.
Haddington was buttering a piece of toast as he glanced down at Sir Rupert and Lady Marlebone.
“……that is wonderful, Sir Rupert.”
“Mind you, I was only twenty at the time.”
“And the admiral listened to you?”
“He had to, the wretched fool, otherwise his craft would have been destroyed on the rocks.”
“Ahem!” Haddington cleared his throat noisily.
“How could an experienced admiral be so stupid as to take his ship so close to rocks?” Asked Clarence testily.
“Ahem!”
“That is exactly the first question I asked him.”
“What did he say, Sir Rupert?” Asked Lady Marlebone.
“Ahem!”
“The poor chap could say nothing, he stood at the railing staring at the rocks with wide eyes filled with terror, his face as white as a sheet.”
“Rupert…….”
“You mean to say it took a twenty year old youth to get him out of his predicament?” Clarence was in too ill a humour to conceal his disbelief.
“Exactly, Clarence, exactly.”
“Rupert……”
“And you saved the big boat and all those sailors.” Asked Lady Marlebone looking upon him with deep admiration.
“I don’t like to boast, do I, Clarence?” Clarence shook his head and then realising his mistake took it in both his hands to moan softly. “Boasting is not one of my weaknesses, I most certainly do not believe in boasting, a gentleman, a real gentleman would never……”
“Rupert!” Haddington thumped the table forcing Clarence to clutch his head tighter and to moan a little louder.
“Yes, Clemmie?”
“You don’t look well.” Warned Haddington grimly.
“Nonsense, old boy, I feel excellent.”
“You’ve got black circles under your eyes.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“No, he hasn’t, Your Lordship. Said Lady Marlebone.
“Clarence.” Boomed Haddington.
“You’ve got dark circles under your eyes.” Said Clarence with the boom still echoing in his head.
“Your face is pale, sickly.” Said Haddington.
“No, it’s not.”
“It isn’t Your Lordship.”
“Clarence.”
“You appear, Sir Rupert,” said Clarence peering from between the fingers of one of his hands, “to be at death’s door.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You’re mistaken, Mr Clarence.” Said Lady Marlebone.
“Lord Haddington!” Roared Clarence then held his palm to his head to ease the throbbing in his temples and because he had shouted at his friend. “I’m sorry, Your Lordship.”
“That’s quite alright, Clarence, I understand, and I completely agree.” He turned to look at his brother. “Poor Rupert, it does seem to me he is on the verge of losing his voice again.”
“Not anymore.” Smiled Sir Rupert, “I’m cured, no more losing my voice, no more sore throats, no more notes or cramped writing fingers.”
“It was a miracle, Your Lordship,” smiled Lady Marlebone, “Sir Rupert came in this morning and wrote me a note, he told me to put my hands to his throat. I did so and his voice was restored.”
“I saw it in a dream.” Said a pleased Sir Rupert.
“It was in a dream, was it?” Asked Haddington grimly.
“Yes.”
“You didn’t happen to see me putting my hands on your throat, did you?”
“No, Clemmie,” Sir Rupert frowned as he thought that over. “Do you have the gift of curing with your hands?”
“I believe these hands could rid the world of one pest at least, if they were given the opportunity.”
“I don’t understand that, Clemmie.”
“Haven’t you forgotten something, Rupert?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“I believed we discussed the recurring loss of voice you suffer from, do you remember? It seemed to strike you at my entrance into a room. Possibly something in my clothes?”
“Whatever it was, Clemmie, it’s all cured now.”
“Rupert, aren’t you overlooking something?” Warned Haddington.
“You mean A. Plant?”
“A plant?”
“Yes, Artichoke Plant.”
“Rupert, what are you talking about?”
“Artichoke Plant, Artichoke Plant, you know?” Sir Rupert turned to Lady Marlebone. “I was reading a marvellous murder mystery the other night, it was the story of a gentleman who was forced to murder a sickly, little blighter that threatened to kill him. The gentleman turned to his own flesh and blood for help and do you know what this poor chap’s brother did?”
“No.”
“He blackmailed him, blackmailed his own brother for money.”
“That’s dreadful.”
“The brother hid the body so the poor chap couldn’t give himself up to the police to pay for his crime. But the devious brother paid for it in the end, because he buried the body, the brother became an accessory.”
“How did it end, Sir Rupert?”
“The gentleman gave himself up to the police got a reward for doing his duty and was set free.”
“And his brother?”
“They hanged the blighter, hanged him as an accessory and a blackmailer, the swine.”
“I do so like a happy ending.” Smiled Lady Marlebone.
“Ah, Rupert.” Smiled Haddington, “you do seem to pick up these legal terms so easily, accessory and such, almost as if you had been listening to a lawyer or solicitor.” Haddington was looking directly at Rupert but Clarence knew he was being watched from the corner of the old man’s eye. “That reminds me, I need to exchange a few words with my solicitor, may I see you for a moment, Clarence?”
“I should like to finish my cup of tea, I do have a terrible headache.”
“No need, old chap, you see I had a dream you’d say that and that I would put my hands to your throat and your headache would be gone.”
“How extraordinary.” Said Lady Marlebone.
“Why not do it here, Clemmie, and let us watch.”
“No, I couldn’t do that,” he got to his feet and came around the table to take Clarence by the arm to help him to his feet. “It is something that must be done in private, but I fear in this case there will be a great deal of screaming, an ordeal I should like to spare our good lady guest.”
“As you wish,” said Sir Rupert casually as he turned back to Lady Marlebone. “I told you about my cavalry charge, didn’t I?”
Haddington led a reluctant Clarence from the room out into the corridor.
“A cavalry charge? How thrilling.”
“I was only a young chap, of course, just a young fellow, green behind the ears, or is it wet behind the ears? Oh, well, whatever it is, that’s what I was. Just a young chap, very young.”
“Hear that?” Demanded Haddington. “I was free of that for a while, but thanks to you it’s back again.” He shook Clarence angrily.
“Please, Your Lordship,” he held his head in misery, “I’m suffering enough.”
Dickie and Haglin sat on a bench outside the courtroom, a policeman stood to one side with his hands behind his back. A door burst open and a tall, glum-faced man came out followed by a policeman.
“Sammy,” smiled Haglin, “Sa
mmy, me lad, how is Gentle John today?”
“Usual kindly self.” He said as he was led past by the policeman.
“Did you get a fine, boy?”
“Naw, a warning.”
“I told you.” Haglin nudged Dickie who got to his feet to be held by the arm by the policeman.
“Gentle John was alright,” said Sammy over his shoulder, “it was that friend of his, I was gonna do him, bleedin’ echo.”
“Echo?” Said Dickie as the door was held open for him.
“…..mind you, I was very young, very young indeed at the time.”
“Oh, no.” Dickie hesitated.
“Come along, sir.” Said the policeman firmly as he literally dragged him into the court and up to the dock.
“That’s incredible, Sir Rupert.”
“Those are the exact words the Prime Minister used.”
Dickie stood in the dock and held his hand to his face and twisted his body as he tried to cringe behind the railing.
“Mr Richard…..” Began the magistrate, a pale, sickly man with a wispy moustache and soulful eyes behind a pair of spectacles.
“I averted a major political crisis, a very critical political disaster threatened the very soul of the nation…….”
“Yes, Sir Rupert.”
“And the Prime Minister said to me, ‘Rupert, my boy,’ I was like a son to him……..”
“I bet you never even had a father.” Muttered Dickie.
“That fellow said something.” Said Sir Rupert angrily.
“What fellow, Sir Rupert?”
“That hunchback in the dock.”
“No, sir, no, I did not speak.” Said Dickie with his hand to his face.
“Put your hand down so the court may see your face.” Ordered the magistrate.
“I have been told my face is not fit to look upon by neither man nor beast, your Honour.”
“Nonsense, man, this court will look upon your face.”
Slowly Dickie lowered his hand and looked directly at Sir Rupert. “There you are,” smiled the magistrate kindly, “there is nothing wrong with your face.”
“Personally, I think he should keep his hand up, the last time I saw a face like that our gardener was chopping it down.” Said Sir Rupert in a roaring whisper to the magistrate.
“Charming.” Muttered Dickie.
“The fellow did it again.” Snapped Sir Rupert.
“Sir Rupert it is most generous of you to be here today,” said the magistate, “but this court is a little different to other courts, if the prisoner in the dock wishes to mutter, then we can see no reason why he shouldn’t.”
“A funny way to run things, I must say.”
“Now, Mr Richard Dobkins.”
“Why is the fellow standing like that?” Demanded Sir Rupert. “I thought he was a hunchback.”
“Mr Dobkins?”
“Yes, your Honour?”
“Why are you standing like that?”
“Like what, your Honour?” He stood bent over with his chin almost touching the railing and his body twisted to one side. “Oh, you mean like this? It’s my shoes, your Honour.”
“Shoes?” Asked the magistrate.
“Shoes?” Frowned Sir Rupert as if trying to remember something.
“I mean my socks, Your Honour, they’re too tight, they’ve made my life a misery.”
“Are they new?”
“Well, yes and no.”
“Yes, and no?”
“Yes and no?” Frowned Sir Rupert.
“Surely that’s a simple question, Mr Dobkins?”
“They’re not new.”
“How long have you had them?”
“How long?” Repeated Dickie as Sir Rupert looked at him carefully, Dickie became a little rattled as he replied absently, “six years.”
“Six years?” Asked the magistrate in surprise, “why do you continue to wear them if they’re so bad, sir?”
“They were a gift from my mother.”
“I see.” The magistrate shuffled his papers obviously touched by such family loyalty.
“She knitted them for me with thin, bony fingers. The socks are too small for me because it took that poor woman so long that I outgrew her measurements, but nothing on this earth will make me refuse to wear them, I would not add more sorrow to that old heart.”
“Quiet right, sir.” Said the magistrate as he used his handkerchief to blow his nose noisily.
“You are home here, Dickie boy.” Muttered Dickie to himself as he brought his hands up to cover his mouth.
“This court is always pleased to see a son express his appreciation and affection for his mother and her labours on his behalf.” Smiled the magistrate.
“The old hag.” Muttered Dickie with his hands to his face once again, “she couldn’t knit if her life depended on it.”
“I can see no reason…….” Began the magistrate.
“That face!” Said Sir Rupert suddenly.
“Come, come, Sir Rupert, no matter how grotesque a prisoner’s face may be,” said the magistrate, a remark that hardly pleased Dickie, “it is not our task to remark upon it nor judge it.”
“I know that face.”
“No, you’re mistaken, sir.” Dickie tried to cover his face and hide behind the railing.
“What did you say his name was? Dobkins? Of course, the Buddhist!” He said in triumph.
“Buddhist?”
“Only in my spare time, Your Honour.”
“This fellow was before Thomas.” Said Sir Rupert.
“Is this true, sir?”
“Of course it’s true,” said Sir Rupert, “the fellow wasted hours carrying on about confounded Buddhism.”
“Is this so?” Asked the magistrate in surprise.
“The subject was mentioned, Your Honour.”
“You were before my colleague because you were a Buddhist?”
Dickie thought he caught something in the wind.
“He made a point of asking me many questions about my religion, Your Honour.” Dickie lowered his head on his chest.
“I had no idea my learned colleague was so intolerant of other religions.”
“Wasted hours he did.” Said Sir Rupert absently as if unaware of the conversation going on.
“Mr Dobkins, this court dismisses all charges against you and releases you forthwith without cost from its custody. I should like to apologise for the unfortunate treatment you’ve received at the hands of a misguided religious bigot.”
“My religion teaches me to forgive and forget, Your Honour.”
“Noble sentiments, sir.”
“Thank you, Your Honour.” Dickie gave his Buddhist blessing and then left the dock.
“Good day to you, sir.”
“I remember once how a high court judge called on me for assistance,” began Sir Rupert.
Dickie raced down the corridor with a wide grin on his face.
“I told you.” Called Haglin standing to wave cheerfully to his departing friend.
“Come along, you’re next.”
“Help me, constable,” Haglin took his arm as he began to shuffle into the courtroom. “Help a poor shattered man brought low by a hard life and many struggles.”
“Ah, Mr Haglin,” smiled the magistrate, “you’re looking so much better than the last time I saw you, has your broken leg mended alright?”
When he saw his two brothers sitting glumly on a cart outside the court Dickie’s smile faded from his lips.
“Take me back to that pub,” Dickie said to George, “maybe I can find those two coins.”
“Get in.” Ordered George and with a light tap to the horse with a whip, the cart moved off.
“Where did you get the cart, Charlie?”
“We bought it,” said George, “we borrowed it out of the money we thought we were getting.” George looked over his shoulder at Dickie who sat leaning against the side of the cart, he gave his brother a sickly grin, but George ignored it.
 
; They reached the ‘Starved Sailor’ and while George and Charlie sat calmly waiting in the cart, Dickie went striding inside. The street was enveloped in serene silence, far off a dog barked and a cart clattered across the street in the distance.
From the peaceful inn there was a sudden eruption of noise as if a riot had just broken out inside. The two brothers sat calmly looking before them and taking no notice of the din.
Dickie was bodily thrown from the door to land with a grunt in the road in front of the cart. He stood up to brush the dust from his clothes, his brothers had bought him a fresh suit to face the court that morning, now his suit was in tatters, they were just rags hanging from his shoulders.
He shook his fist, on a sleeveless arm, at the doorway.
“Let that be a lesson to you.” He said and then straightened his shoulders to stride to the side of the cart. “He hasn’t got ‘em.” He said to George.
“Get in.” Said George. Dickie climbed in and stood hanging onto the side as it moved off.
“You should have seen me, Charlie, I used all the diplomacy I could, I said ‘where’s me two coins, you sticky-fingered two-faced cur!’” Smiled Dickie but the two brothers sat silently swaying on the cart, their faces expressionless. “It’s only a joke, there’s no need to get so hysterical.” And he chuckled heartily to himself.
“Grace is waiting for you at home,” said George and this stopped Dickie chuckling, “we had to hide all the pots from her.”
“And all the knives.” Said Charlie helpfully.
“Couldn’t we go back to the pub,” suggested Dickie as he looked back at the inn wistfully, “and give them a second chance at me, one lad promised to tear me limb from limb.”
They made the rest of the journey in silence, passing silently through their own village, finally the cart pulled up at the cottage.
“Get out.” Said George as Charlie took care of the horse, Dickie got out and nervously walked into the house. “He’s here.”
“I’m here.” He stood in the centre of the room, a dark shape came from the shadows, Dickie gulped noisily, “morning, missus.”
“Sit down.” Dickie sat down on the floor, “at the table.” He got to his feet and walked past her warily, her eyes followed his every move. He sat at a place at the table. “Here.” A plate of food was placed in front of him.
While he ate Grace stood at the other side of the table watching him, George and Charlie each took a seat at the table to watch him in silence.
“This food is delicious, missus.”
“Good.”
“You’re all being very kind to me,” he finished the plate of food. “What’s next?”
“Death.” Grace raised her hands.
“Grace.” Said George grabbing her about the waist.
“George.” Said Dickie nervously.
“Charlie.” Said George struggling with Grace.
“George?” Asked Charlie.
“Tea.” He pointed to Dickie’s empty cup.
“Thanks.” Said Dickie as Charlie poured him a cup of tea.
“George.” Demanded Grace as she continued to struggle with her husband.
“Grace.”
“We’re all very talkative this morning.” Smiled Dickie as he drank his tea.
Grace made a mighty effort and lunged across the table to take the cup from Dickie’s hand and with a scream threw it against the wall. “Charlie, you might take a look at that cup, if there’s a finger in the handle you know where it came from.”
“Let me at him, George.”
“You can’t have him until after our visitor’s come and gone, Grace.”
“I’ve got the coins.” Dickie held up the cloth containing the coins.
“You mean you found those two missing coins?” Asked Grace with a smile.
“No, I didn’t find them…..” She went wild.
“Hold me back, George.” She wailed.
“She’s gone mad.” Said a worried Dickie.
“My wife was the gentlest of women until you brought those bleedin’ coins into her life.”
“Did you say you found the missing coins, Dickie?” Smiled Charlie.
“No, he did not find the missing coins.” Said George struggling with Grace.
“But we’ve still got these coins, George,” smiled Dickie holding the cloth up to jingle the coins. “Hello?”
“What is it?” Asked George with a frown.
“There’s a hole in this cloth,” he placed it on the table to open it and spread the coins. “What do you know about that?” Three figures stood motionless watching him with cold eyes. “It looks like I’ve lost a couple more of the blasted things.”
Clifford’s carriage pulled up outside the cottage.
“I shan’t be long, Reeves.” He placed a handkerchief to his nose as he stepped out to walk up to the door.
“Very well, sir.”
He could hear the sound of many voices raised inside the cottage, from the noise it sounded very much as if someone were being violently murdered. Clifford knocked, and knocked again this time louder. There was no response.
He knocked harder and the door slowly fell open, Clifford stood in the doorway with his hat in his hand, there was no expression on his face as he looked upon the scene inside.
George had one of Dickie’s legs while Charlie had the other, they had turned Dickie upside down and were none too gently pounding his head on the floor. Grace was on her knees in front of Dickie apparently trying to tear his shirt off. Only Dickie knew she was trying to tear the flesh from his body.
“You stupid, overblown……” George was saying each time Dickie’s head hit the floor.
“I’ll tear out this leg and then tear out the other one.” Charlie was saying with each thump.
“If he’s got them on him I’ll find them.” Grace was mumbling as she tore off another strip of the shirt.
“Hold her back, George, ouch, hold her back.” Pleaded Dickie.
“Good afternoon.” Said Clifford.
“A visitor, ouch, a visitor.”
“Let’s finish with Dickie and then tear the vis….. “ Began Charlie.
“Look who’s here, Grace,” smiled George as he righted Dickie and stood with his arm around his shoulder, Grace stood with strips of Dickie’s shirt in her hands. “See, Grace, Mr Clifford.”
“Mr Clifford,” she said dully and turned to see the visitor at the door. “George.”
“Grace?” Asked George.
“Visitor.” Said Grace.
“Tea.” Said George.
“Sit.” She said to Mr Clifford and he crossed the room to sit down at the table. “Tea?”
“Thank you.”
“I hope you’ll pardon us, Mr Clifford,” smiled George still clutching Dickie. “We’re so glad to have our brother back with us, we were just having a family game.”
“Family game.” Repeated a dazed Dickie.
“So you are Mr Richard Dobkins?” Asked Clifford, a smiling Dickie nodded.
“George.” Said Dickie.
“Richard?”
“Leg.”
George looked over his shoulder to see Charlie on the floor gnawing at Dickie’s leg.
“That’s enough, Charlie,” he laughed, “the game’s over.” He gave his brother a playful kick.
“Over.” Repeated Dickie.
“The coins, George, where are they?” Hissed Charlie.
Dickie put his hand in his pocket and pulled it out to open it in George’s face. In it he held two coins.
“There they are.” Smiled George trying to make it all sound so cheerful, “Richard is just too clever for us, he kept the coins hidden in his pocket.”
“These are the missing coins, are they?” Asked Clifford.
“Oh, no……” Began Dickie but George wrapped his hands around his throat. Dickie’s eyes bulged from his head, his tongue stuck out of his wide open mouth, his face began to change colour.
“That’s not fair, George,”
said Charlie, “it was my turn to go for his throat.”
“Dickie has got to be rewarded, and besides he prefers my hands, don’t you, Dickie?” A purple face nodded.
“Your family seems to enjoy the most extraordinary of games, Mr Dobkins.”
“We like it, don’t we, Dickie?” Said George as he withdrew his hands from Dickie’s neck.
“Yes.” Gasped Dickie as he rubbed his throat.
“Tea.” Said Grace placing a cup of tea in front of the visitor.
“Thank you.” Said Clifford.
“Now.” Said George.
“Now?”Asked Clifford.
“Business.” Said George.
“Business.” Nodded Clifford.
“Money.” Said Charlie rubbing his hands in anticipation.
“Charlie.” Said George sternly.
“George?”
“Crude.”
“Sorry.”
“Gentlemen, can we settle this now?” Asked Clifford.
“Of course.” George pulled the opened cloth across the table and put it in front of the visitor.
“Hmmmm.” Clifford looked at each coin and took the two George got off Dickie. “Yes.”
“You’ll have to tell him.” Gasped Dickie still rubbing his throat.
“Tell me what?” Clifford looked up suspiciously, “our agreement was for five hundred pounds, not a penny more.”
“He’s still dazed from the game, Mr Clifford, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“I hope you’re not trying to break our deal, Mr Dobkins?”
“Not at all, Mr Clifford.”
“Tell him, George.”
“What is he talking about?”
“Just ignore him…..”
“Two of the coins are missing.” Said Dickie suddenly. A deadly silence settled on the cottage, Dickie realised he had made a serious error and he stood trying to think how he could convince Clifford to adopt him so they could leave together as the visitor poured over the coins again.
“Did you say there were two missing?”
“Yes.” Replied Dickie as he glanced at George who stook looking at him with bared teeth.
“This set seems complete to me.”
“It does?” Asked George.
“Yes, let me see,” Clifford took money out of his coat pocket, “five hundred pounds, less fifty pounds.” He counted out the money.
“That’s right.” Said George.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” Clifford took up the cloth with the coins and put them in his pocket, “it’s been interesting doing business with you.” He shook George’s hand and went to the front door. “Good day to you.”
“Good day.” Said George as he stood at the door in a daze.
“George.” Said Dickie.
“Dickie?” George stood with his back to the room as he watched Clifford’s carriage drive away.
“Leg.”
“What?” He turned quickly.
“Leg.” Repeated a patient Dickie. George glanced down to see Charlie gnawing on Dickie’s leg.
“Charlie, there’s no need for that, we’ve got the money.
“Oh, that’s right.” He got to his feet wearing a sheepish grin, “I’ve just realised how hungry I am.”
“After the meal you’ve just had?” Demanded Dickie.
“Four hundred and fifty pounds.” Said Grace in awe as she stood over the money, in silence the two brothers walked over to stand beside her, then Dickie limped over to join them.
“I’ll just borrow this.” Dickie took up a pound note and then got another shirt to put on. “I’ll borrow the cart as well.” He said as he limped to the door.
“Where are you going?” Asked George.
“I’ll be back.”
“Be sure you get back for supper.” Called Grace.
“Don’t worry about me, missus.”
Dickie put the horse in front of the cart, climbed aboard and soon had it moving up the road, he passed through the village and then headed down the road that took him through the forest onto the next village.
He stopped to give a young farm worker a lift and then continued on into the small hamlet. The cart clattered up the main street. He offered to buy the lad a drink if he’d wait, to which he got an immediate agreement. They sat on the corner for some time until Dickie sighted a familiar figure.
“Rufus.” He called as he climbed down from the cart to run to the side of the giant.
“Me old mate, ain’t it?”
“That’s right, Dickie Dobkins, and this is Willy, how about comin’ for a drink?”
“Good idea.”
All three walked to the ‘Starved Sailor’ and went inside. Dickie leaned on the counter and surveyed the room, there were not very many customers.
“Innkeeper,” he ordered, “I’ll buy a round of drinks for everyone, your good self included.”
“I said you was a gent.” Smiled Rufus slapping him on the back with a wallop. “The first time I laid eyes on you.”
“Let’s see your money.” The innkeeper looked at him suspiciously, Dickie placed his pound on the counter. “You really are a gent.”
“I wanted to buy Rufus a drink to show I had no hard feelings against him.”
“You’re a gent.” Rufus slapped him on the back again as he took up a glass to drain it in one long swallow.
“I never could understand the way your kin carried on about those coins of yours.” Said the innkeeper sipping his drink after pouring a glass for everyone in the bar.
“They have a great sentimental value, they were my father’s.”
“From Singapore weren’t they?”
“That’s right.”
“Was he out there?”
“Indeed he was.” Beamed Dickie with pride. “He was with the civil service, he’d still be there to this day but for the horrible weakness that wrecked his life and ruined his career.”
“What happened?”
“I can’t tell you that, it’s a sworn secret in my family.”
“You can tell us.” Said the innkeeper and everyone agreed earnestly.
“I took a secret oath.” Dickie stood erect, “how could I face myself if I dared say it out loud? Wait a minute,” he looked at Willy who was draining his third glass. “I could whisper it to Willy here and he could tell you after I’ve gone, that way I won’t be breaking my oath.”
The whole room agreed readily and waited breathlessly as he whispered into Willy’s ear.
“Why that’s……” Began Willy.
“Shh.” Dickie put his fingers to his lips. Willy copied him with a silly drunken grin on his face. “I’ll be on me way then.”
“Goodbye, goodbye.” Said the innkeeper impatiently.
“Perhaps I might just stay for another drink.”
“He’s had enough, Rufus.” Said the innkeeper and Rufus stood to face Dickie.
“I was just leavin’.” He went through the door, everyone watched him leave then turned to Willy who was draining another glass.
“Well?” Asked the innkeeper.
“Could I ‘ave another, please?”
“Not until you tell us what he said.”
“It was foolish nonsense, just foolish nonsense.”
“You tell us and we’ll decide if it’s foolish or not.”
“You wouldn’t be interested, it was silly.”
“Rufus.” Ordered the innkeeper and Rufus went to tower over Willy, who looked up in awe at the giant who’s head seemed to be touching the roof.
“Well, he said…..he said……”
“Yes, what did he say?” Asked the innkeeper.
Dickie stood outside the door to one side munching on a piece of cake he’d brought with him.
“He said his father hated dogs.” Came Willy’s voice.
“Oh, no.” Came the voice of the innkeeper.
“HE SAID WHAT?” Roared Rufus.
“It’s daft, isn’t it, his career ruined because he hated bleedi
n’ dogs, little ones, he said…..”
“Don’t say another word.” Ordered the Innkeeper but it was too late. “Rufus, put that down, put it down.” There was a loud thump and the sound of shattering glass, “not on me, you fool.”
As he calmly ate his cake Dickie listened to the sound of Rufus tearing the inn to pieces and flooring everyone in sight.
Willy came running out and stood in rags before Dickie.
“He’s gone mad.”
“Has he?”
“Don’t go in there, mate.” There was the roar of an enraged beast from the inn and Willy took off in terror to run down the street. Chairs and drinkers came flying through the front windows, the sign above jangled on its chains as even the front wall seemed to bulge outwards.
The sound of the inn being demolished and the occupants being equally demolished filled Dickie’s ears for some time until finally all was silent.
Dickie brushed the crumbs off the front of his coat and began to walk back to his cart. The innkeeper came crawling from the doorway, he got to his feet unsteadily and stood swaying as he leaned against the wall.
“You dirty, low….” He growled.
Dickie stopped and turned to look back at the pile of rags.
“Good afternoon to you, sir.” He bowed from the waist.
“You lowly…..”
“Why innkeeper,” said a startled Dickie, “don’t do that, don’t kick that little dog.”
“What…..” The innkeeper looked about him to see what Dickie was talking about. There was a roar from the interior of the inn and the sound of crashing furniture against the walls.
“One sign coming down.” Smiled Dickie as he looked up, the sign above jangled on its chains and then plummeted below. Dickie closed his eyes until he heard the thud and a grunt. He opened his eyes with a smile that froze on his face. “Bleedin’ hell.” He turned to run back to his cart.
The innkeeper was still standing there, but the sign lay on the ground underneath of which lay the unconscious constable.
A dog was about to go against the wheel of his cart.
“Get out of it, you little…..” Dickie glanced up to see Rufus standing beside the innkeeper watching him. “You might hurt yourself against that hard old wheel.” The dog heard him, looked at the wheel, agreed with him so walked over to cock his leg and relieve himself against Dickie’s leg.
Dickie smiled, bent down to pat the dog on the head and then, shaking his foot, climbed onto his cart and clattered away.
* * * * *