CHAPTER XVI
THE MAN IN THE CELL
Before I could reply to Chisholm's inquiry, Mr. Lindsey put his head outof his door and seeing the police-sergeant there asked what he was after.And when Chisholm had repeated his inquiry, both looked at me.
"I did see Crone's purse that night," I answered, "an old thing that hekept tied up with a boot-lace. And he'd a lot of money in it, too."
"Come round, then, and see if you can identify this that we found on theman," requested Chisholm. "And," he added, turning to Mr. Lindsey,"there's another thing. The man's sober enough, now that we've gothim--it's given him a bit of a pull-together, being arrested. And he'sdemanding a lawyer. Perhaps you'll come to him, Mr. Lindsey."
"Who is he?" asked Mr. Lindsey. "A Berwick man?"
"He isn't," replied Chisholm. "He's a stranger--a fellow that says he wasseeking work, and had been stopping at a common lodging-house in thetown. He vows and declares that he'd nothing to do with killing Crone,and he's shouting for a lawyer."
Mr. Lindsey put on his hat, and he and I went off with Chisholm to thepolice-station. And as we got in sight of it, we became aware that therewas a fine to-do in the street before its door. The news of the arresthad spread quickly, and folk had come running to get more particulars.And amongst the women and children and loafers that were crowding aroundwas Crone's housekeeper, a great, heavy, rough-haired Irishwoman calledNance Maguire, and she was waving her big arms and shaking her fists at acouple of policemen, whom she was adjuring to bring out the murderer, sothat she might do justice on him then and there--all this being mingledwith encomiums on the victim.
"The best man that ever lived!" she was screaming at the top of hervoice. "The best and kindest creature ever set foot in your murderingtown! And didn't I know he was to be done to death by some of ye? Didn'the tell me himself that there was one would give his two eyes to beseeing his corpse? And if ye've laid hands on him that did it, bring himout to me, so, and I'll--"
Mr. Lindsey laid a quiet hand on the woman's arm and twisted her round inthe direction of her cottage.
"Hold your wisht, good wife, and go home!" he whispered to her. "And ifyou know anything, keep your tongue still till I come to see you. Beaway, now, and leave it to me."
I don't know how it was, but Nance Maguire, after a sharp look at Mr.Lindsey, turned away as meekly as a lamb, and went off, tearful enough,but quiet, down the street, followed by half the rabble, while Mr.Lindsey, Chisholm, and myself turned into the police-station. And therewe met Mr. Murray, who wagged his head at us as if he were very wellsatisfied with something.
"Not much doubt about this last affair, anyhow," said he, as he took usinto his office. "You might say the man was caught red-handed! All thesame, Mr. Lindsey, he's in his rights to ask for a lawyer, and you cansee him whenever you like."
"What are the facts?" asked Mr. Lindsey. "Let me know that much first."
Mr. Murray jerked his thumb at Chisholm.
"The sergeant there knows them," he answered. "He took the man."
"It was this way, d'ye see, Mr. Lindsey," said Chisholm, who was becomingan adept at putting statements before people. "You know that bit of apublic there is along the river yonder, outside the wall--the Cod andLobster? Well, James Macfarlane, that keeps it, he came to me, maybe anhour or so ago, and said there was a fellow, a stranger, had been in andout there all day since morning, drinking; and though he wouldn't say theman was what you'd rightly call drunk, still he'd had a skinful, and hewas in there again, and they wouldn't serve him, and he was gettingquarrelsome and abusive, and in the middle of it had pulled out a pursethat another man who was in there vowed and declared, aside, toMacfarlane, was Abel Crone's. So I got a couple of constables and wentback with Macfarlane, and there was the man vowing he'd be served, andwith a handful of money to prove that he could pay for whatever hecalled for. And as he began to turn ugly, and show fight, we just clappedthe bracelets on him and brought him along, and there he is in thecells--and, of course, it's sobered him down, and he's demanding hisrights to see a lawyer."
"Who is he?" asked Mr. Lindsey.
"A stranger to the town," replied Chisholm. "And he'll neither give namenor address but to a lawyer, he declares. But we know he was staying atone of the common lodging-houses--Watson's--three nights ago, and thatthe last two nights he wasn't in there at all."
"Well--where's that purse?" demanded Mr. Lindsey. "Mr. Moneylaws heresays he can identify it, if it's Crone's."
Chisholm opened a drawer and took out what I at once knew to be AbelCrone's purse--which was in reality a sort of old pocket-book or wallet,of some sort of skin, with a good deal of the original hair left on it,and tied about with a bit of old bootlace. There were both gold andsilver in it--just as I had seen when Crone pulled it out to find me somechange for a five-shilling piece I had given him--and more by token,there was the five-shilling piece itself!
"That's Crone's purse!" I exclaimed. "I've no doubt about that. Andthat's a crown piece I gave him myself; I've no doubt about that either!"
"Let us see the man," said Mr. Lindsey.
Chisholm led us down a corridor to the cells, and unlocked a door. Hestepped within the cell behind it, motioning us to follow. And there, onthe one stool which the place contained, sat a big, hulking fellow thatlooked like a navvy, whose rough clothes bore evidence of his havingslept out in them, and whose boots were stained with the mud and claywhich they would be likely to collect along the riverside. He was sittingnursing his head in his hands, growling to himself, and he looked up atus as I have seen wild beasts look out through the bars of cages. Andsomehow, there was that in the man's eyes which made me think, there andthen, that he was not reflecting on any murder that he had done, but wassullenly and stupidly angry with himself.
"Now, then, here's a lawyer for you," said Chisholm. "Mr. Lindsey,solicitor."
"Well, my man!" began Mr. Lindsey, taking a careful look at this queerclient. "What have you got to say to me?"
The prisoner gave Chisholm a disapproving look.
"Not going to say a word before the likes of him!" he growled. "I know myrights, guv'nor! What I say, I'll say private to you."
"Better leave us, sergeant," said Mr. Lindsey. He waited till Chisholm, abit unwilling, had left the cell and closed the door, and then he turnedto the man. "Now, then," he continued, "you know what they charge youwith? You've been drinking hard--are you sober enough to talk sense? Verywell, then--what's this you want me for?"
"To defend me, of course!" growled the prisoner. He twisted a hand roundto the back of his trousers as if to find something. "I've money of myown--a bit put away in a belt," he said; "I'll pay you."
"Never mind that now," answered Mr. Lindsey. "Who are you?--and what doyou want to say?"
"Name of John Carter," replied the man. "General labourer--navvywork--anything of that sort. On tramp--seeking a job. Came here, goingnorth, night before last. And--no more to do with the murder of yon manthan you have!"
"They found his purse on you, anyway," remarked Mr. Lindsey bluntly."What have you got to say to that?"
"What I say is that I'm a damned fool!" answered Carter surlily. "It'sall against me, I know, but I'll tell you--you can tell lawyers anything.Who's that young fellow?" he demanded suddenly, glaring at me. "I'm notgoing to talk before no detectives."
"My clerk," replied Mr. Lindsey. "Now, then--tell your tale. And justremember what a dangerous position you're in."
"Know that as well as you do," muttered the prisoner. "But I'm soberenough, now! It's this way--I stopped here in the town three nightssince, and looked about for a job next day, and then I heard of somethinglikely up the river and went after it and didn't get it, so I startedback here--late at night it was. And after crossing that bridge at aplace called Twizel, I turned down to the river-bank, thinking to take ashort cut. And--it was well after dark, then, mind you, guv'nor--incoming along through the woods, just before where the little river runsinto the big one, I come across this m
an's body--stumbled on it. That'sthe truth!"
"Well!" said Mr. Lindsey.
"He was lying--I could show you the place, easy--between the edge of thewood and the river-bank," continued Carter. "And though he was deadenough when I found him, guv'nor, he hadn't been dead so long. But deadhe was--and not from aught of my doing."
"What time was this?" asked Mr. Lindsey.
"It would be past eleven o'clock," replied Carter. "It was ten when Icalled by Cornhill station. I went the way I did--down through the woodsto the river-bank--because I'd noticed a hut there in the morning that Icould sleep in--I was making for that when I found the body."
"Well--about the purse?" demanded Mr. Lindsey shortly. "No lies, now!"
The prisoner shook his head at that, and growled--but it was evident hewas growling at himself.
"That's right enough," he confessed. "I felt in his pockets, and I didtake the purse. But--I didn't put him in the water. True as I'm here,guv'nor. I did no more than take the purse! I left him there--just as hewas--and the next day I got drinking, and last night I stopped in thathut again, and today I was drinking, pretty heavy--and I sort of lost myhead and pulled the purse out, and--that's the truth, anyway, whether youbelieve it or not. But I didn't kill yon man, though I'll admit I robbedhis body--like the fool I am!"
"Well, you see where it's landed you," remarked Mr. Lindsey. "Allright--hold your tongue now, and I'll see what I can do. I'll appear foryou when you come before the magistrate tomorrow."
He tapped at the door of the cell, and Chisholm, who had evidently waitedin the corridor, let us out. Mr. Lindsey said nothing to him, nor to thesuperintendent--he led me away into the street. And there he clapped meon the arm.
"I believe every word that man said!" he murmured. "Come on, now--we'llsee this Nance Maguire."