IS SLIGHTLY RETROSPECTIVE.
We left Mr. Jabez Duck, a few chapters back, in anything but a
comfortable situation.
When he had recovered from his astonishment at the sight of his sister,
Miss Jackson, and Mrs. Turvey, he endeavoured to stammer out that he’d
be back in a moment, and made for the door.
But Georgina was too quick for him.
‘I must speak to you at once,’ she said, imperiously, ‘on _private_
business.’ The accent on the word private was marked and intentional.
Mrs. Turvey took the hint.
‘Which if I am in the way, Jabez, let me go into another room while
this person tells you her business.’
Now Mrs. Turvey knew very well that Georgina was Jabez’s sister, and
Georgina was quite aware of Mrs. Turvey’s identity, but it pleased them
both to affect the most supreme ignorance.
‘Jabez,’ exclaimed Miss Duck indignantly, ‘who is this female who
addresses you so familiarly, and calls me a “person”?’
‘Who am I?’ gasped Mrs. Turvey, fairly roused by Georgina’s manner, and
coming bustling up close to her. ‘I’ll let you know who I am, madam.
I’m not a female. I’m a respectable hard-working woman, as isn’t going
to be humbugged about any longer by your precious oily snake of a
brother.’
‘Ladies, ladies!’ stammered Jabez, polishing his brow furiously, and
bursting out into quite a watery shine with perspiration; ‘Pray, pray
compose yourselves! The firm will hear you. Pray remember where you
are!’
Jabez might as well have asked the north wind not to blow as Georgina
and Mrs. Turvey to be quiet. They were fairly started on a race for the
last word. Besides, weeks of pent-up scorn and indignation had to be
worked off. In vain Jabez implored them to be silent. In vain Miss
Jackson shed tears and urged Georgina, for her sake, to be calm.
At last, when it was within an inch of a single-stick duel between
Georgina’s parasol and Mrs. Turvey’s umbrella, Jabez fairly lost his
temper, and, rushing between them in time to receive both umbrella and
parasol on his own unprotected and shiny bald head, seized the first
combatant he could catch hold of, and dragged her away.
It was Mrs. Turvey.
That estimable lady, flushed, excited, and prepared for desperate
deeds, no sooner saw Jabez, as she presumed, espouse his sister’s side,
than with a terrific effort she became suddenly calm.
Smoothing her ruffled finery and assuming a delicately sarcastic tone,
she thus delivered herself:
‘I’ll go, Mr. Duck—I don’t want to be pushed out; but I shall call
again—_not_ to see you, sir. I shall instruct Messrs. Grigg and Limpet
to commence two actions at once, one for breach of promise against you,
Mr. Duck, and one for deformation of character against you, Miss Duck;
which you, ma’am,’ she added, turning to Miss Jackson, ‘will be a
witness as this person have said vile and ojus things about me.’
‘Oh,’ moaned Miss Jackson, ‘don’t make me a witness! Oh, I would rather
cut my right hand off than let it go into a court of justice against my
dearest friend!’
‘Don’t be a fool, Carry!’ said Miss Duck curtly. ‘Jabez, show that old
woman out, or I’ll go to the firm. I won’t be insulted by a servant any
longer.’
Jabez had adroitly got Mrs. Turvey out of earshot, so that Georgina’s
last arrow missed its mark.
He was some minutes before he returned. In the interests of peace he
apologized to Mrs. Turvey, said his sister was to blame, and vowed on
his honour to behave like a gentleman if Mrs. Turvey would only give
him time.
Mrs. Turvey allowed herself to be mollified so far as Jabez was
concerned, but departed vowing the fiercest vengeance against his
‘stuck-up minx of a sister.’
Georgina, when she had given her brother a thorough setting down over
the Turvey incident, informed him of the visit of the police and the
discovery of the Smiths’ real character.
Jabez for a time refused to believe it, but the evidence which his
sister produced was circumstantial. Already his employers had
discovered the forgery of which they had been the victims, and Jabez
connected the two events.
When he got home that evening the same detective who had searched the
rooms called to see him, and requested him to say nothing about the
affair to any one for the present.
The reason he gave was that there was no knowing who belonged to the
gang, and if it once got about that the police were on the track the
others would keep out of the way.
In the hope of making a complete haul, the police for the present would
take no steps to arrest the fugitive. If he was left alone, and not
allowed to know that he was suspected, he would probably join some
other members of the gang.
Jabez listened to this explanation and promised to hold his peace, and
also to allow the things found in the room occupied by George to be
taken to Scotland Yard.
The officer who had charge of the case was Sergeant Iveson, a
well-favoured, middle-aged man, who looked like a country gentleman,
and Jabez had every confidence in him. The officer also went to Grigg
and Limpet, and received from them the forged cheque. They also agreed
to take no steps which would clash with those arranged by Sergeant
Iveson, who had sole charge of the case.
Late that evening Sergeant Iveson and Mr. Seth Preene met by accident,
and what more natural than that they should have a little conversation?
‘Found out who he is yet?’ asked the sergeant.
‘No,’ said Preene; ‘but I’m sure he’s a swell, and he’s making quietly
for his home, wherever it is. I suppose it’s sure to be pretty straight
against him?’
‘I’ll take care of that,’ answered the sergeant. ‘But this case won’t
pay, you know. There’s no reward. Won’t it be worth your governor’s
while to pay a good one? You see if this chap’s convicted there’s an
end to all inquiries about the forged cheques. You get him out of the
way for a year or two and wipe the slate clean. I suppose the principal
in the affair’s right, ain’t he?’
‘Right? I should think so,’ answered Mr. Preene. ‘Look here, governor,
you nab this fellow, and make him safe for a year or two, and I’ll
promise you a hundred on my own hook. Never mind about the woman; she’s
never seen any of us, and can do no harm. She might complicate the
case. I’ll say a hundred and fifty—there!’
With which magnificent offer Mr. Preene held out his hand to the
sergeant, and shortly afterwards they parted.
Sergeant Iveson bided his time before he looked for the runaway, In the
interests of the firm of Smith and Co., Mr. Preene desired him not to
act too precipitately. Smith and Co. wished to remove all trace of
their connection with certain city offices and financial transactions
before that accomplished forger, Mr. George Smith, was put upon his
trial.
Practically, for the present, the firm’s City business was dissolved.
Brooks had gone down to Dover on an important matter, and Marston had
followed him. Preene was in town, busy at his private residence over
some mechanical operation in which he seemed to take a deep interest,
and Josh Heckett had gone to a quiet little place in Surrey, for the
benefit of his health.
It is singular that when he arrived with his travelling bag at a little
inn some short distance from Heritage Park he wore the clerical garb.
He was dressed in a suit of black, had on a white choker, and wore a
clerical felt hat. He was accompanied by his son, a young gentleman,
who treated his ‘governor’ in a most respectful manner. They didn’t
talk much before the landlady, who waited on them, and they were very
particular about their behaviour.
But when they went out for little strolls in the neighbourhood, the
clergyman called his son ‘Boss,’ and garnished his conversation with
strange, unclerical oaths. And Master Boss called his revered parent
‘Josh, ’and pattered to him in Mint slang, as though his education at
the university had consisted of this very living language to the utter
neglect of all the dead ones.