That I cannot say. I can only tell you that at nine-fifteen on Friday
morning bail was tendered, and, after inquiries, accepted in the person
of Julius Addison Tupp, of the Sunnybrook Steam Laundry, Twickenham.
That is no business of ours.
The accused who, I had seen to it, had had a cup of tea and a little
toast at seven-thirty, left in company with Mr. Tupp soon after ten.
Superintendent Wade admitted he had known cases where accused parties,
to avoid unpleasantness, had stated their names to be other than their
own, but declined to discuss the matter further.
Superintendent Wade, while expressing his regret that he had no more
time to bestow upon our representative, thought it highly probable that
he would know the lady again if he saw her.
Without professing to be a judge of such matters, Superintendent Wade
thinks she might be described as a highly intelligent young woman, and
of exceptionally prepossessing appearance.
* * *
From Mr. Julius Tupp, of the Sunnybrook Steam Laundry, Twickenham, upon
whom our representative next called, we have been unable to obtain much
assistance, Mr. Tupp replying to all questions put to him by the one
formula, "Not talking."
Fortunately, our representative, on his way out through the drying
ground, was able to obtain a brief interview with Mrs. Tupp.
Mrs. Tupp remembers admitting a young lady to the house on the morning
of Friday, the twenty-eighth, when she opened the door to take in the
milk. The lady, Mrs. Tupp remembers, spoke in a husky voice, the
result, as the young lady explained with a pleasant laugh, of having
passed the night wandering about Ham Common, she having been
misdirected the previous evening by a fool of a railway porter, and not
wishing to disturb the neighbourhood by waking people up at two o'clock
in the morning, which, in Mrs. Tupp's opinion, was sensible of her.
Mrs. Tupp describes the young lady as of agreeable manners, but
looking, naturally, a bit washed out. The lady asked for Mr. Tupp,
explaining that a friend of his was in trouble, which did not in the
least surprise Mrs. Tupp, she herself not holding with Socialists and
such like. Mr. Tupp, on being informed, dressed hastily and went
downstairs, and he and the young lady left the house together. Mr.
Tupp, on being questioned as to the name of his friend, had called up
that it was no one Mrs. Tupp would know, a Mr. Quince--it may have been
Quincey.
Mrs. Tupp is aware that Mr. Parable is also a Socialist, and is
acquainted with the saying about thieves hanging together. But has
worked for Mr. Parable for years and has always found him a most
satisfactory client; and, Mr. Tupp appearing at this point, our
representative thanked Mrs. Tupp for her information and took his
departure.
* * *
Mr. Horatius Condor, Junior, who consented to partake of luncheon in
company with our representative at the Holborn Restaurant, was at first
disinclined to be of much assistance, but eventually supplied our
representative with the following information:
My relationship to Mr. Archibald Quincey, Harcourt Buildings, Temple,
is perhaps a little difficult to define.
How he himself regards me I am never quite sure. There will be days
together when we will be quite friendly like, and at other times he
will be that offhanded and peremptory you might think I was his
blooming office boy.
On Friday morning, the twenty-eighth, I didn't get to Harcourt
Buildings at the usual time, knowing that Mr. Quincey would not be
there himself, he having arranged to interview Mr. Parable for the
Daily Chronicle at ten o'clock. I allowed him half an hour, to be
quite safe, and he came in at a quarter past eleven.
He took no notice of me. For about ten minutes--it may have been
less--he walked up and down the room, cursing and swearing and kicking
the furniture about. He landed an occasional walnut table in the
middle of my shins, upon which I took the opportunity of wishing him
"Good morning," and he sort of woke up, as you might say.
"How did the interview go off?" I says. "Got anything interesting?"
"Yes," he says; "quite interesting. Oh, yes, decidedly interesting."
He was holding himself in, if you understand, speaking with horrible
slowness and deliberation.
"D'you know where he was last night?" he asks me.
"Yes," I says; "Caxton Hall, wasn't it?--meeting to demand the release
of Miss Clebb."
He leans across the table till his face was within a few inches of mine.
"Guess again," he says.
I wasn't doing any guessing. He had hurt me with the walnut table, and
I was feeling a bit short-tempered.
"Oh! don't make a game of it," I says. "It's too early in the morning."
"At the Earl's Court Exhibition," he says; "dancing the tango with a
lady that he picked up in St. James's Park."
"Well," I says, "why not? He don't often get much fun." I thought it
best to treat it lightly.
He takes no notice of my observation.
"A rival comes upon the scene," he continues--"a fatheaded ass,
according to my information--and they have a stand-up fight. He gets
run in and spends the night in a Vine Street police cell."