MR. JABEZ DUCK DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF AT LAST.
Mr. and Mrs. Jabez Duck, by saying very little to each other, managed
to avoid those scenes of wordy warfare which are considered part and
parcel of English domestic institutions. Indeed, so common is it for
husband and wife to disagree when they commence to converse, that the
expression, ‘Master and missus have been having a few words,’ is quite
understood in the kitchen to mean that ‘Master and missus’ have been
having a quarrel.
Mrs. Turvey, having once become Mrs. Duck, and mistress of an
establishment of her own, was quite content to let Jabez have his own
way so long as he kept out of hers. Her triumph over Georgina was dear
to her woman’s heart, and the greatest enjoyment she had in her married
life was to stand at the window and glare at the opposite house, where
Miss Duck, still a spinster, exhibited ‘Apartments to Let’ in her
window.
Georgina returned the glare with interest whenever she perceived it,
and time, instead of healing the feud, seemed to increase it. Jabez
endeavoured to effect a reconciliation, but as each attempt only
brought him the abuse of both parties, he finally gave it up, and
determined to let things take their course.
Whenever Jabez visited his sister he was prepared for a lecture on his
folly in throwing himself away, and also for sundry warnings as to the
conduct of his better-half. He didn’t know half that went on. A nice
stocking his wife was putting by. The lodgers were robbed, and he got
the credit of it. The house was untidy—everybody talked about it.
Everything that feminine malice could invent Miss Duck launched at the
head of the lady who had, as her friend, Miss Jackson, feelingly
observed, divided the children who once sat on one mother’s knee.
As a rule, the observations of his sister made no impression upon Mr.
Duck. He had served an apprenticeship, and knew from personal
experience how Georgina could magnify trifles into importance.
But one day Georgina flung a reproach at his head which did not pass
off without doing mischief. She boldly declared that during his absence
a remarkably dissipated and disreputable individual of the male sex was
in the habit of interviewing Mrs. Duck, and generally left with his
pockets bulging out; and on one occasion lately Miss Georgina noticed
and declared that the said individual had exhibited all the signs of
excessive intoxication on the front-door step, and had been seen to
leave, after a stormy interview with Mrs. Duck at the front door,
clutching some silver money in a dirty and trembling hand.
Miss Georgina’s story was so circumstantial that Jabez believed there
was something in it, and determined to cross-examine his better-half.
But, before he left, Miss Duck entreated him not to name her as his
informant, as she didn’t want her windows broken, or bad language flung
down her area to the annoyance of her lodgers.
Mr. Duck ridiculed the idea that his wife could so far forget herself,
but he promised Georgina that she should not be implicated.
He left in a very uncomfortable state, and his sister watched him
across the road, inwardly delighted at the idea that she had fired the
train, and that her rival would come in for the full benefit of the
explosion.
Jabez nursed his wrath that evening until he had had a good tea, and no
temper on his good lady’s part could interfere with his enjoyment of
that favourite meal.
But when the tea-things had been cleared away, and Mrs. Duck had
settled herself down in her chair to make out the first-floor’s bill,
which had been standing for a month, Jabez cleared his throat, and,
picking up a newspaper, prepared to open a masked battery upon the good
lady from behind it.
He was just about to inquire casually who the gentleman was who called
so frequently during his absence, when there came a loud knock at the
door.
The servant was upstairs, Mrs. Duck was busy with her book, so Jabez
proceeded to the door himself. He opened it, and let in a tremendous
whiff of spirits and a voice which, in a thick, husky whisper, demanded
if Mrs. Duck was at home.
Jabez surveyed the visitor in astonishment. He was a middle-aged man,
very shabbily dressed, and with bloated features, red, watery eyes, and
a ragged, untidy beard.
‘And pray what do you want with Mrs. Duck?’ exclaimed Jabez, when he
had recovered from his surprise.
‘Hulloh, guv’nor!’ exclaimed the man, with an attempt at a smile which
gradually merged into a hiccough; ‘why’sh my old fren’ Shabez—dam’
fool’sh married my sis’er! Glash shee you.’
Jabez looked at the man silently for a moment. His words were a
revelation. This, then, was the drunken visitor Georgina had seen so
often. Mrs. Duck’s brother had certainly not prospered in business
lately.
While Jabez was hesitating whether he should ask his brother-in law in
or not, that gentleman relieved him of all further anxiety by walking
or rather rolling in himself, and seizing Jabez affectionately in his
arms.
‘Gos blesh you, ol’ fler,’ he said. ‘Why’sh years since shaw you lasht.
Know old shong—
‘“‘Tish yersh since las’ we met,
And we may not meeteh again.”’
Mr. Turvey, having raised his voice and howled forth the above in a
melancholy manner, here fell exhausted with the exertion and overcome
by his feelings on to Mr. Jabez’s breast and wept copiously.
Mrs. Duck, alarmed at the strange operatic performance in the hall,
came running out, and, beholding her drunken brother helpless in her
husband’s arms, immediately began to upbraid the former in an excited
and hysterical manner.
‘Oh, you good-for-nothing brute!’ she exclaimed, ‘to come here
disgracing me like this! Oh, you bad man! Ain’t I done everything I
could for you? Oh, you wicked wretch!’
Mrs. Duck’s feelings were working up to the screaming-point, when
Jabez, alarmed lest the noise should reach the lodgers and cause a
scandal, took the bull by the horns and dragged Mr. Turvey into the
parlour.
‘Come in, Susan, and shut the door,’ he groaned. ‘This is dreadful—very
dreadful!’
‘It isn’t my fault, Jabez,’ sobbed Mrs. Duck; ‘indeed it isn’t! I
didn’t want him to come here. I was ashamed for you to see him, and I
done what I could to keep him away. I’ve given him money, and food, and
clothes, and it’s all gone in drink. He’s a bad man—a bad man—though he
is my own flesh and blood, as the saying is. Ugh!’
This last exclamation was addressed to Mr. Turvey, whom Jabez had
deposited on a chair, where he was vainly endeavouring to catch an
imaginary fly with his hand—a proceeding which ended in his falling out
of the chair on to the fender, and bringing down the fire-irons with a
terrible clatter.
‘What’s to be done with him?’ exclaimed Mrs. Duck, wringing her hands.
‘Wash’ be done?’ said Mr. Turvey, struggling into a sitting posture;
‘wash’ be done wi’ me? I’m lasht rosh shammer left blooming ‘lone; all
lovlish companshish ish faded and gone—eh, Shabez?—faded and gone, old
cock—fa’ angone.’
The remembrance of the fall of his lovely companions was too much for
Mr. Turvey, and once more his voice became lachrymose.
‘Shuck me oush!’ he exclaimed; ‘shuck mo oush! Lesh die in the
streetsh; all monsh gone.’
‘Really, Susan,’ said Mr. Duck, knitting his brows and assuming an
attitude of firmness, ‘I am very sorry to see your relative in this
condition. It’s disgraceful—most disgraceful!’
‘Dishgraceful!’ exclaimed Mr. Turvey, dragging himself up into a
horizontal position and dropping heavily into the chair again; ‘wheresh
dishgrace? Look here, Mishter Duck, I’m har’ up. Send me oush country.
“To the Wesht, to the Wesht—land o’ the free; Missh—Misshouri “—cetra;
you know; or elsh I shall give shelf up to the polish.’ Mrs. Duck
screamed.
‘Don’t listen to what he’s going to say, Jabez; it isn’t true; he’s
saying it to extort money.’
Mr. Jabez had not been an inquiry agent all these years without having
acquired a habit of pricking up his ears. The mention of police aroused
his attention at once, and then he remembered the mystery of the
thousand pounds. He saw that if he wanted Mr. Turvey to become
communicative he had better irritate him.
‘Give yourself up to the police!’ he exclaimed; ‘if you don’t leave my
house instantly I’ll save you the trouble.’
For a moment Mr. Turvey looked at Mr. Duck as though he was wondering
if he meant it. Gradually his features assumed an expression of rage
which would have been comical had not the hideous surroundings of
drunkenness overpowered all.
‘You—will!’ he exclaimed, speaking slowly and dully, at first with an
effort, but more clearly and rapidly as passion sobered him for a time.
‘You will! Do! Then you’ll have to send her to quod with me.’
Mrs. Duck hid her face.
‘It isn’t true, Jabez,’ she moaned; ‘it isn’t true.’
‘Ha, ha!’ laughed Mr. Turvey, staggering up to the table, and bringing
his dirty hand down on it with a blow. ‘Look at her! She won’t do
anything more for me, she won’t! Here!’ he shouted, ‘police! police!
come and take me! Come and arrest the great gold robber, Turvey the
guard! You’ve done it now, Susan! It’s too late! Police! police!’
He rushed about the room in his drunken rage, smashing the things out
of his way, and yelling ‘Police!’ at the top of his voice. Mrs. Turvey
rushed to the door, her face white as death and her lips parted in
terror. Jabez seized the furious drunkard in his arms and, exerting all
his strength, forced him down into a chair.
‘Hold your row, you fool!’ he exclaimed. ‘Do you want the whole street
about our ears?’
For a moment the man seemed inclined to struggle. He made one violent
effort, and then began to sob, and whine, and maudle again.
An hour later Mr. Turvey was fast asleep on the sofa in Mr. Duck’s
parlour.
Mr. Duck had agreed to allow him to remain for the night, for he was
very anxious to question Mr. Turvey when his present intoxication
should have passed off.
He had heard quite enough to know that he had the secret of the great
gold robbery within his four walls, and he had seen a means by which he
could not only earn a large reward, but the fame he had thirsted for
all his life, without in any way injuring the esteemed individual whom
he had the honour to call brother-in law.
He quite understood about the thousand pounds that had so mysteriously
disappeared, and he had learned now for the first time from Susan that
her brother, having dissipated every penny of it, had latterly returned
and endeavoured to sponge upon her.
‘I lost the money that time,’ said Mr. Duck to himself, with a chuckle;
‘but if I can pump him, and get the names of his accomplices from him,
I shall make a thousand out of the relationship yet.’
The next morning the fates were propitious. Mr. Turvey, having been
offered a passage abroad and a little ready money to get drunk with
when he landed, communicated to Jabez the whole history of the great
gold robbery.
A couple of days later Mr. Duck saw his promising brother-in-law safe
on board a vessel bound for the colonies, and he then immediately
proceeded to put his plans into execution.
Having ascertained that the large rewards offered at the time had never
been withdrawn, he placed himself in communication with the authorities
at Scotland-yard.
The only men accused by Jabez were Seth Preene and Josh Heckett. For
some reason, possibly because in the muddled and drink-sodden condition
of his brain he had forgotten the other parties to the robbery, Turvey,
the guard, had named only the two men who had ridden in his van and
taken an active part in the robbery. On Jabez’s information warrants
for the apprehension of Preene and Heckett were issued and given to one
of the principal detectives to execute. His orders were to proceed with
the utmost caution, as the evidence was of the weakest possible
description, and to make his own investigation before making an arrest.
He certainly did act with caution, for the very first person to whom he
confided the secret of his mission was his old friend, Mr. Seth Preene.
‘I suppose I’d better hook it?’ said Mr. Preene.
‘I think so,’ said the detective. ‘As soon as you’re safe away I can
collar Josh. He’ll do for me.’