CHAPTER XV

One ought to have been made apprehensive and cautious by the fact that everything seemed to be going so well. In congratulating myself on the smoothness with which the machinery was running, I should have adopted one of the precautionary measures of a superstitious nature, handed down to me and impressed on me by my mother. But it was satisfactory to observe the chastened deportment and comfortable peace in the Hillier household--the loss endured seemed to have brought all the members closer in affection--it was cheering to find that John's tour could be reckoned a success; it was so pleasant to discover in the notes from Herbert Millwood a new tone of cheeriness, that there seemed no grounds for anticipating disaster. Herbert was unable for the present to obtain leave; he wrote that he intended to come up to town and see Muriel at the earliest possible moment; I gave her the message in a way that deprived it of any special meaning, and she said, casually,

"It will be interesting to see your nephew again."

The war had passed the first anniversary of its birthday and still went on, and the news that arrived was occasionally of a cheerful nature; no justification, however, occurred for putting out the Union Jack I was keeping in reserve. We had a flag day of another kind in Greenwich, and I provided tea in the shop for some of the white-gowned young ladies who sold the decorations; as they left a middle-aged man came to the doorway and thanked me in an elaborate way for the hospitality shown; I took it that he had something to do with the organisation, and answered civilly, nothing more. He made a sympathetic allusion to poor little Serbia, mentioned the attacks that were being made on Lord Kitchener and said he did not approve of them. He thought the single young men ought to join, before the married men were called up. He did not feel inclined to trust Winston Churchill. He offered to bet sixpence that Greece meant mischief. He doubted whether the Government was acting wisely in announcing a further restriction of licensing hours, and argued that the people ought to be consulted in these matters. His conversation seemed to me to be lacking in originality, and I was getting tired of it when a police-sergeant came along, known to me by an occasional exchange of nods, and a friendly remark concerning changes in the weather. Looking around, I discovered that my talkative visitor had vanished hurriedly.

"How's business, ma'am?" inquired the sergeant.

"Mustn't complain," I answered. "Thanks to Woolwich, I'm able to muddle along. How do you find matters?"

"Slack," he said, regretfully. "Nothing doing at all. 'Pears to me, crime is becoming a lost art. I shall soon be like Othello."

"Not jealous of your wife, are you?"

"I mean my occupation will be gone. I'm suffering from monotony; that's what's the matter with me. Fortunately for you, you're not troubled with it. And I'm told you're uncommon keen on a bargain."

"My work is to buy cheap, and sell dear."

"It's a job," remarked the sergeant, "where you have to keep your wits about you. By-the-bye, I heard something in your favour the other day, but," he tapped at his forehead, "it's gone. I shall think of it when I'm trying to remember something else."

The middle-aged man called again the next afternoon, but I was busy with a customer who had bought a pianoforte and was explaining to me that her neighbours, hitherto friendly, were declaring that the music produced from the instrument by her two little girls was in no way pleasing to the ear. She happened to be one of the newly affluent, and my suggestion that a pianola arrangement should be fixed, received her consideration. The other caller, seeing that I was not prepared to break off the discussion in order to attend to him, placed a card on a dresser, and said he would pay a visit at a more convenient moment. The card bore the name of Professor Basil Chailey; in the corner, the title of a West End club. I noticed that on the back was pencilled what seemed to be a day's expenses. Newspaper, lunch (ninepence for lunch), tea, railway ticket, pair of boot-laces. Evidently the professor was obeying the suggestions regarding war-time economies.

He came in that evening, as I was about to put up the shutters, and go to Gloucester Place. The shop closed early at that time, because with the regulations concerning the lighting of windows, it was impossible to shew off my goods, after dusk, to any advantage; besides which, folk were not going out at night as they had done, and the anxiety concerning air-raids still existed. My visitor carried a small box from which one or two wires had escaped; he wore, on this occasion, a tweed cap.

"I am in rather a hurry," he announced, speaking carefully, "and I shall not detain you long. I happen to be one of the many suffering from a diminished income on account of the war. There is no need to disguise the fact that the sudden loss of a berth of about six hundred a year is no joke."

"It certainly wouldn't make me laugh."

"All of my students," he went on, "have joined the Army. My classes have been shut down, and I find myself, to use a vulgarism, stranded. On the rocks. In other words, suffering from an acute financial embarrassment."

"I never lend."

"There," he said, approvingly, "I think you are wise. My own resolve is not to get into the hands of those who are willing to make monetary advances at an exorbitant rate of interest. My knowledge of the world is not great, because all my life I have been devoted to science, but I do know that once a man is involved in the coils of these people--"

"Hurry on with what you have to tell me."

"Finding myself in this awkward position," he said, "I look around with a view of ascertaining how I can dispose of some of my property. I have for years made a hobby of collecting silver. That silver I wish to dispose of, quietly, and at a fair price. I don't expect to get the money I paid for it, but I have no desire to be swindled."

"Give me your address, and I'll call and look at the articles."

"Pardon me," he said. "My two sisters with whom I reside; they must know nothing of the transaction. It would be the death of them."

"But they will notice that the silver has gone."

"I have a device," he remarked, holding up a fore-finger, in a shrewd way, "for accounting for that. A midnight burglary. A window left open. Do you follow me?"

"Go back now," I suggested, "and bring the goods along as quickly as you can, and I'll stay here, and wait for you."

He seemed doubtful concerning this plan, and I spoke rather abruptly; on this, he agreed that there was much to be said for my recommendation. I inquired where he lived, and he answered promptly, "St. John's Park, Blackheath." I mentioned that this was some distance away, and he could scarcely return within less than an hour. He assured me that he would use celerity, and, with great politeness, declared his regret at causing inconvenience.

I went over to Gloucester Place after closing, took supper with the Hilliers, mentioned to them that I had some dealings with a strange customer, and hoped to make a profit out of the transaction that would compensate me for the trouble I was incurring. At the shop, there were no signs of the professor, and as I sat there in the dim light on a saddle-bagged chair, and time went on, I determined he should suffer for the delay. My hours were too valuable to be wasted. An appointment was an appointment, and should be kept even by middle-aged gentlemen connected with scientific occupations. A policeman went by trying doors, and when mine opened, he glanced in and apologised.

"Working overtime, eh, ma'am?" he remarked.

"Expecting a caller," I said.

"Not afraid of being alone?"

"Prefer it, sometimes. Good-night, constable."

"I can take a hint," he said, glumly.

My new customer arrived in a taxi-cab as I was on the point of making up my mind to go; he dragged across the pavement a large bag of green baize.

"Sorry I'm behindhand," he remarked, exhaustedly.

"I, too, am inclined to regret it."

"Had to wait," he explained, "until my sisters went upstairs. We needn't lose any time now. I will pay the driver whilst you look over the articles."

Everything seemed in good condition, and it was clear that the silver had been treasured and polished carefully. I set each piece on a sideboard and estimated the value roughly, adding up the amounts in my head. The professor had returned, and he stood watching me with some impatience, as my lips moved in the effort of reckoning.

"How much?" he asked.

"I shall have to weigh--"

"No, no," he interrupted urgently. "Give me a fair sum, and let me have the money now. I'm not used to adventures of this nature, and I want to get the matter over."

"You will take a cheque?"

"I would rather have had cash," he said, "but, in these days, that is too much to expect. Make it payable to bearer, and not crossed." I mentioned that I had about thirty pounds, as it happened, in Treasury notes, and part payment could be made with these; he shook his head and said that, on consideration, he preferred to take the cheque. I suggested an amount: he agreed to it so swiftly that I blamed myself for not quoting a lesser sum. He gazed over my shoulder as I filled in the slip. Snatching at it, he, without another word, hurried from the shop.

I was placing the smaller articles in the safe, and congratulating myself on an easy bargain, when the door opened. Turning, I saw two quietly dressed men, of severe countenance. One advanced, pulling hard at a note-book that fitted too exactly the inside pocket of his overcoat.

"Got my pencil, sergeant?" he asked of his companion.

"You had it last, inspector," replied the other.

"I distinctly remember lending it you," said the first with warmth, "as we were coming out of the Police station. You said you wanted to make a note of something concerning the robbery, and I handed you my pencil case, and you never gave it back. 'Tisn't the first time that has happened. If it occurs again I shall report the matter to the superintendent." I asked what they wanted with me. "Your name is Miss Weston," he said.

"That's right."

"We are two plain clothes detectives," he went on, "and we have a rather painful duty to perform."

"I suppose your tasks are never very pleasant."

"True for you, ma'am. Sergeant, close the door, and tell our men outside to be prepared in case any attempt is made to escape. Now then!" Addressing himself to me. "You have just purchased a quantity of silver. Tell me what you gave for it."

I mentioned the sum.

"Not much more than the full value," he suggested, ironically.

"People in my line of business rarely pay more than they are obliged to do."

"Generally a good deal less. And that is where they sometimes find themselves in trouble. Now, I don't wish to frighten you, ma'am, or make a scene of any description, but that silver represents stolen property, and we shall have to take charge of it, and you'll have to stand in the dock, and answer--"

I screamed.

"Keep calm, keep calm!" he directed. "As a matter of fact, we are not going to take you away now, providing you give us your word of honour to attend at the Police Court to-morrow morning. I'll tell you what'll happen. You'll be there, with your accomplice, facing the magistrate. If you're wise, you'll get a solicitor to take charge of your case. Not sure whether you've had much experience--"

"I was never," I wailed, distressedly, "mixed up with anything of the kind before. Please give me all the advice you can."

"And he'll probably reserve your defence. He may, as you have hitherto been a respectable shopkeeper, manage to have you let out on bail. Anyway, you'll be committed for trial, and when you appear at the Old Bailey with a jury on the right hand side of you, and the Recorder just opposite to you, and a couple of warders, one on either side of the dock--"

I put the impetuous question that is likely enough offered in most cases. He scowled, and I feared the inquiry had annoyed him. He beckoned to his companion.

"Sergeant," he said, "you're a man of discretion and tact, and although I am your superior officer, I should like to have your advice. This good lady wishes to know whether there is any means of squaring the case, so far as she is concerned."

"I'm opposed to it, sir. Much too risky."

"But if it could be managed, I should be inclined to consider the project. She has undoubtedly been taken in by a plausible scoundrel."

"People who are foolish enough to do that," declared the other, stolidly, "must submit to the consequences."

"I grant you that, as a general proposition. I'm with you there, heart and soul. I can't, for a single moment, argue that you're wrong. But supposing--I only say supposing, mark you!--supposing this poor woman had a certain sum, either in cash or notes, ready at hand--"

"I've got nearly thirty pounds," I announced.

They conferred apart, and I, gripping my hands, waited anxiously for the decision. The two talked in bass undertones, with one for, one against. "There can be no hard and fast rule in these affairs; each case has to be decided on its own merits." And the answer was, "I've no wish to appear obstinate, but if it ever came out, you know as well as I do, that we should be ruined." Gradually the opposition seemed to weaken.

"Ma'am," announced the visitor who was on the side of clemency, "we have decided to accept your offer."

"Thank God!" I exclaimed.

"Your gratitude should be expressed to us. Fortunately for you, you are dealing with two of perhaps the most kind-hearted men in the whole force. Sergeant, pack up all this silver ready to take away, whilst I count the notes. And tell the chaps outside that they needn't wait."

It was indeed a relief to me to see the two prepare to go. They found the green baize bag heavy, and I suggested they should allow me to fetch a cab; they declined, and before going, gave me a lecture on the necessity, in dealing with strangers, of exercising care and even suspicion. I remarked that I could give the bank a warning not to pay the cheque when tendered, and they hinted, in duet, that I might consider myself a favourite of fortune.

It has often been said that women suffer from their defect of garrulity; something happened which proved that, in the other sex, consequences ensue. For, as they were impressing upon me the great good luck which had come my way, there came a sharp knock at the door. They tried to stop me, but I had opened it before either could get at my wrist. My friend the sergeant stood there.

"Seeing a light," he remarked cheerfully, "I thought I'd call to tell you that the something I heard about you wasn't really about you at all, but about a party with a different name altogether. Hullo, Albert!" he said to one of the men.

"Evening, sergeant." Respectfully. "Coldish for the time of the year."

"You know these two gentlemen, I expect," I remarked.

"Ought to," answered the sergeant. "What's in your bag, Albert? Anything special?"

"It isn't our bag, sergeant. It belongs to this lady here. It's her property."

The other man, apparently, dissented from this procedure, for taking the bag in both hands, he swirled it around, just missing me, and hitting the sergeant. The two rushed out. I snatched a police whistle from a hook, and blew it. The sergeant, recovering in a few moments from the blow that had dazed him, hurried through the doorway, and with a speed amazing in a man of his proportions, ran after a tram-car that was turning opposite the Church; the green bag, hauled up the stairs, was on the point of disappearing from sight.

* * * * *

There is no use in pretending that I came out well from the incident, or that my respect for my own business-like capacity did not suffer. The professor had to give evidence, and his two sisters remarked audibly, at the Police Court hearing, "We can never trust Basil again." In the corridor I found him endeavouring to persuade them that a crime had undoubtedly been committed, and whether it took place at St. John's Park or at London Street was a point of small moment. The Treasury notes found on the prisoners were, after the sentence at the Old Bailey, returned to me. One of the men, not represented by counsel, cross-examined me in a cheeky way, and a newspaper headed the account of this with the title "Dignity and Impudence." The Judge made some remarks intended to be humorous, and dutifully smiled at by the jury, in which he recommended Miss Weston to obtain the aid of a husband who would help her in looking after the establishment.

There was reason to feel indebted to my friends in the trying period of waiting for the case to come on. William Richards took a day's holiday, and, looking quite smart in his new railway uniform, became my faithful attendant; Millwood paced up and down the large hall with us; Edward hastened to the court in his dinner hour and took me out and gave me a meal. Glancing back, it seems ridiculous that a self-possessed woman like myself, with no excuse for nervousness on the grounds of youth, should have felt so much terrified at being called upon to act a small part in a court of law; I suppose the experience is always trying to folk who lead quiet lives, and suddenly find themselves in the limelight. At any rate, I am speaking the truth when I say that I had no desire to go through a similar ordeal again, and I determined to use every care in avoiding another collision with the law. And this, perhaps, was the result the law, by use of pomp and elaboration, and of imposing and terrifying methods, intended to effect.

At Greenwich, the Judge's facetious suggestion was taken up by young Edward, and commented upon by him with considerable relish. Mr. Hillier, and the two girls, observing that I was not amused, gave him a private warning to make no further allusions to the Quartermaster-Sergeant.

* * * * *

I was careful to send out no newspapers to France that gave a report of the case, but Cartwright, in one of his pencilled letters mentioned that he had heard of it. "If ever you are in any legal trouble, go to my brother at the enclosed address." It was the first time he had spoken of this relative. The old people at Lewisham had not referred to this son; conversation when I called there was restricted to the soldier. Particulars of greater importance in the letter had a place on the last sheet. "I have been feeling out of sorts, and they tell me I need a change and a rest. But I do not want to come home until the job is ended. Fritz has got to be downed." Whilst I was receiving correspondence and sending it with scarcely a single mishap, my dear Katherine found that her communications and parcels to Mesopotamia were subjected to erratic treatment; now and again a steamer taking the mails was torpedoed in the Mediterranean, and this accounted for some of them, but not for all. Lieutenant Langford, on one occasion, cabled to her: "Are you writing?" and it cost about two pounds to reply, stating that she had been sending to him each week since he left. To me, in a moment of confidence induced by her anxiety, Katherine communicated a secret.

"And aren't you as pleased, my love, as ever you can be?"

"In a way, yes," she answered perplexedly. "But it means I shall have to leave the bank."

"Only for a time."

"They'll say I ought to have been straightforward with them. They'll be annoyed. They can be very stern when they like."

"Important folk, no doubt," I remarked, "but it isn't for them to give permission for dear, beautiful babies to come into the world. And don't forget when the time comes, that although your poor mother is gone, I shall be here."

"Shouldn't like to be facing it, Aunt Weston, without you."

My Quartermaster-Sergeant walked into the shop at London Street one wet day when Greenwich was looking something short of its brightest, and neighbouring tradesmen had called to give me their private and business anxieties. He said, "Hullo, Mary, my girl!" and kissed me, and, at once, other people's troubles vanished from my thoughts and for all I knew sunshine might have taken the place of rain. He was slightly thinner, and he had one or two lines on his forehead that I had not before noticed; it struck me there was a touch of grey about his moustache. Also his manner seemed quieter.

"No," he said, when I had sketched out plans for the evening. "Rather not, if it's all the same to you, go to a theatre, and, unless you're keen on it, we won't go up to town and have dinner. I'd prefer to just sit here on this sofa, and gaze at Miss Weston."

"That won't be very amusing for you."

"Seem to have got out of the habit of laughing. Takes a bit of an effort, in these days, for me to smile. But I don't want anything better than to hear you talk, and chat to you, and find you contradicting me. And," as I placed a cushion under his head, "how's the nephew, and how are the people in Gloucester Place, and how's everybody?"

He admitted, later, that he paid but a small compliment to me by falling asleep as I was chatting to him. "Where's my manners?" he asked self-reproachfully. Before this, I had put a screen near the sofa, and if anyone came in the shop, warned them to speak quietly. I set the kettle on the fire in the back room, induced a passing lad to buy for me a two-ounce packet of the Quartermaster-Sergeant's favourite tobacco. His pipe rolled out of his pocket as he turned in his sleep, and I filled it, placed it ready for him, with matches at hand.

I proposed to tell him of my fears regarding Muriel Hillier and my nephew, and to mention that Herbert was shortly coming up on the retarded leave. I thought of explaining that Muriel had changed but that it was not clear the change was permanent. My Quartermaster-Sergeant had just awoke, and was once more blaming himself for inattention to the rules of etiquette, when William Richards appeared at the doorway.

"Bit of a railway accident, Mary Weston," he announced, shortly. "Your nephew, the officer chap, is I am sorry to say in it!"