CHAPTER VIII
Perhaps because his luncheon was served to him a good deal laterthan usual, Mr. Sleuth ate his nice piece of steamed sole upstairswith far heartier an appetite than his landlady had eaten her niceslice of roast pork downstairs.
"I hope you're feeling a little better, sir," Mrs. Bunting had forcedherself to say when she first took in his tray.
And he had answered plaintively, querulously, "No, I can't say Ifeel well to-day, Mrs. Bunting. I am tired--very tired. And as Ilay in bed I seemed to hear so many sounds--so much crying andshouting. I trust the Marylebone Road is not going to become a noisythoroughfare, Mrs. Bunting?"
"Oh, no, sir, I don't think that. We're generally reckoned veryquiet indeed, sir."
She waited a moment--try as she would, she could not allude to whatthose unwonted shouts and noises had betokened. "I expect you'vegot a chill, sir," she said suddenly. "If I was you, I shouldn'tgo out this afternoon; I'd just stay quietly indoors. There's a lotof rough people about--" Perhaps there was an undercurrent ofwarning, of painful pleading, in her toneless voice which penetratedin some way to the brain of the lodger, for Mr. Sleuth looked up, andan uneasy, watchful look came into his luminous grey eyes.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Mrs. Bunting. But I think I'll take youradvice. That is, I will stay quietly at home, I am never at a lossto know what to do with myself so long as I can study the Book ofBooks."
"Then you're not afraid about your eyes, sir?" said Mrs. Buntingcuriously. Somehow she was beginning to feel better. It comfortedher to be up here, talking to Mr. Sleuth, instead of thinking abouthim downstairs. It seemed to banish the terror which filled hersoul--aye, and her body, too--at other times. When she was withhim Mr. Sleuth was so gentle, so reasonable, so--so grateful.
Poor kindly, solitary Mr. Sleuth! This kind of gentleman surelywouldn't hurt a fly, let alone a human being. Eccentric--so muchmust be admitted. But Mrs. Bunting had seen a good deal of eccentricfolk, eccentric women rather than eccentric men, in her long careeras useful maid.
Being at ordinary times an exceptionally sensible, well-balancedwoman, she had never, in old days, allowed her mind to dwell oncertain things she had learnt as to the aberrations of which humannature is capable--even well-born, well-nurtured, gentle humannature--as exemplified in some of the households where she hadserved. It would, indeed, be unfortunate if she now became morbidor--or hysterical.
So it was in a sharp, cheerful voice, almost the voice in which shehad talked during the first few days of Mr. Sleuth's stay in herhouse, that she exclaimed, "Well, sir, I'll be up again to clearaway in about half an hour. And if you'll forgive me for saying so,I hope you will stay in and have a rest to-day. Nasty, muggy weather--that's what it is! If there's any little thing you want, me orBunting can go out and get it."
******
It must have been about four o'clock when there came a ring at thefront door.
The three were sitting chatting together, for Daisy had washed up--she really was saving her stepmother a good bit of trouble--andthe girl was now amusing her elders by a funny account of Old Aunt'spernickety ways.
"Whoever can that be?" said Bunting, looking up. "It's too earlyfor Joe Chandler, surely."
"I'll go," said his wife, hurriedly jumping up from her chair."I'll go! We don't want no strangers in here."
And as she stepped down the short bit of passage she said to herself,"A clue? What clue?"
But when she opened the front door a glad sigh of relief broke fromher. "Why, Joe? We never thought 'twas you! But you're verywelcome, I'm sure. Come in."
And Chandler came in, a rather sheepish look on his good-looking,fair young face.
"I thought maybe that Mr. Bunting would like to know--" he began,in a loud, cheerful voice, and Mrs. Bunting hurriedly checked him.She didn't want the lodger upstairs to hear what young Chandlermight be going to say.
"Don't talk so loud," she said a little sharply. "The lodger isnot very well to-day. He's had a cold," she added hastily, "andduring the last two or three days he hasn't been able to go out."
She wondered at her temerity, her--her hypocrisy, and that moment,those few words, marked an epoch in Ellen Bunting's life. It wasthe first time she had told a bold and deliberate lie. She wasone of those women--there are many, many such--to whom there isa whole world of difference between the suppression of the truthand the utterance of an untruth.
But Chandler paid no heed to her remarks. "Has Miss Daisy arrived?"he asked, in a lower voice.
She nodded. And then he went through into the room where the fatherand daughter were sitting.
"Well?" said Bunting, starting up. "Well, Joe? Now you can tellus all about that mysterious clue. I suppose it'd be too good newsto expect you to tell us they've caught him?"
"No fear of such good news as that yet awhile. If they'd caughthim," said Joe ruefully, "well, I don't suppose I should be here,Mr. Bunting. But the Yard are circulating a description at last.And--well, they've found his weapon!"
"No?" cried Bunting excitedly. "You don't say so! Whatever sortof a thing is it? And are they sure 'tis his?"
"Well, 'tain't sure, but it seems to be likely."
Mrs. Bunting had slipped into the room and shut the door behind her.But she was still standing with her back against the door, lookingat the group in front of her. None of them were thinking of her--she thanked God for that! She could hear everything that wassaid without joining in the talk and excitement.
"Listen to this!" cried Joe Chandler exultantly. "'Tain't givenout yet--not for the public, that is--but we was all given it byeight o'clock this morning. Quick work that, eh?" He read out:
"WANTED
A man, of age approximately 28, slight in figure, height approximately 5 ft. 8 in. Complexion dark. No beard or whiskers. Wearing a black diagonal coat, hard felt hat, high white collar, and tie. Carried a newspaper parcel. Very respectable appearance."
Mrs. Bunting walked forward. She gave a long, fluttering sigh ofunutterable relief.
"There's the chap!" said Joe Chandler triumphantly. "And now, MissDaisy"--he turned to her jokingly, but there was a funny littletremor in his frank, cheerful-sounding voice--"if you knows of anynice, likely young fellow that answers to that description--well,you've only got to walk in and earn your reward of five hundredpounds."
"Five hundred pounds!" cried Daisy and her father simultaneously.
"Yes. That's what the Lord Mayor offered yesterday. Some privatebloke--nothing official about it. But we of the Yard is barredfrom taking that reward, worse luck. And it's too bad, for we hasall the trouble, after all."
"Just hand that bit of paper over, will you?" said Bunting. "I'dlike to con it over to myself."
Chandler threw over the bit of flimsy.
A moment later Bunting looked up and handed it back. "Well, it'sclear enough, isn't it?"
"Yes. And there's hundreds--nay, thousands--of young fellowsthat might be a description of," said Chandler sarcastically. "Asa pal of mine said this morning, 'There isn't a chap will like tocarry a newspaper parcel after this.' And it won't do to have arespectable appearance--eh?"
Daisy's voice rang out in merry, pealing laughter. She greatlyappreciated Mr. Chandler's witticism.
"Why on earth didn't the people who saw him try and catch him?"asked Bunting suddenly.
And Mrs. Bunting broke in, in a lower voice, "Yes, Joe--that seemsodd, don't it?"
Joe Chandler coughed. "Well, it's this way," he said. "No oneperson did see all that. The man who's described here is just madeup from the description of two different folk who think they sawhim. You see, the murders must have taken place--well, now, letme see--perhaps at two o'clock this last time. Two o'clock--that's the idea. Well, at such a time as that not many people areabout, especially on a foggy night. Yes, one woman declares shesaw a young chap walking away from the spot where 'twas done; andanother one--but that was a good bit later--says The Avengerpassed by her. It's mostly her they're following in this 'eredescripti
on. And then the boss who has charge of that sort ofthing looked up what other people had said--I mean when the othercrimes was committed. That's how he made up this 'Wanted.'"
"Then The Avenger may be quite a different sort of man?" saidBunting slowly, disappointedly.
"Well, of course he may be. But, no; I think that descriptionfits him all right," said Chandler; but he also spoke in ahesitating voice.
"You was saying, Joe, that they found a weapon?" observed Buntinginsinuatingly.
He was glad that Ellen allowed the discussion to go on--in fact,that she even seemed to take an intelligent interest in it. Shehad come up close to them, and now looked quite her old self again.
"Yes. They believe they've found the weapon what he does his awfuldeeds with," said Chandler. "At any rate, within a hundred yardsof that little dark passage where they found the bodies--one ateach end, that was--there was discovered this morning a verypeculiar kind o' knife--'keen as a razor, pointed as a dagger'--that's the exact words the boss used when he was describing it toa lot of us. He seemed to think a lot more of that clue than ofthe other--I mean than of the description people gave of the chapwho walked quickly by with a newspaper parcel. But now there's apretty job in front of us. Every shop where they sell or might a'sold, such a thing as that knife, including every eating-house inthe East End, has got to be called at!"
"Whatever for?" asked Daisy.
"Why, with an idea of finding out if anyone saw such a knife foolingabout there any time, and, if so, in whose possession it was at thetime. But, Mr. Bunting"--Chandler's voice changed; it becamebusinesslike, official--"they're not going to say anything aboutthat--not in newspapers--till to-morrow, so don't you go andtell anybody. You see, we don't want to frighten the fellow off.If he knew they'd got his knife--well, he might just make himselfscarce, and they don't want that! If it's discovered that any knifeof that kind was sold, say a month ago, to some customer whose waysare known, then--then--"
"What'll happen then?" said Mrs. Bunting, coming nearer.
"Well, then, nothing'll be put about it in the papers at all," saidChandler deliberately. "The only objec' of letting the public knowabout it would be if nothink was found--I mean if the search ofthe shops, and so on, was no good. Then, of course, we must tryand find out someone--some private person-like, who's watched thatknife in the criminal's possession. It's there the reward--thefive hundred pounds will come in."
"Oh, I'd give anything to see that knife!" exclaimed Daisy, claspingher hands together.
"You cruel, bloodthirsty, girl!" cried her stepmother passionately.
They all looked round at her, surprised.
"Come, come, Ellen!" said Bunting reprovingly.
"Well, it is a horrible idea!" said his wife sullenly. "To go andsell a fellow-being for five hundred pounds."
But Daisy was offended. "Of course I'd like to see it!" she crieddefiantly. "I never said nothing about the reward. That was Mr.Chandler said that! I only said I'd like to see the knife."
Chandler looked at her soothingly. "Well, the day may come whenyou will see it," he said slowly.
A great idea had come into his mind.
"No! What makes you think that?"
"If they catches him, and if you comes along with me to see ourBlack Museum at the Yard, you'll certainly see the knife, Miss Daisy.They keeps all them kind of things there. So if, as I say, thisweapon should lead to the conviction of The Avenger--well, then,that knife 'ull be there, and you'll see it!"
"The Black Museum? Why, whatever do they have a museum in yourplace for?" asked Daisy wonderingly. "I thought there was only theBritish Museum--"
And then even Mrs. Bunting, as well as Bunting and Chandler,laughed aloud.
"You are a goosey girl!" said her father fondly. "Why, there's alot of museums in London; the town's thick with 'em. Ask Ellenthere. She and me used to go to them kind of places when we wascourting--if the weather was bad."
"But our museum's the one that would interest Miss Daisy," broke inChandler eagerly. "It's a regular Chamber of 'Orrors!"
"Why, Joe, you never told us about that place before," said Buntingexcitedly. "D'you really mean that there's a museum where theykeeps all sorts of things connected with crimes? Things like knivesmurders have been committed with?"
"Knives?" cried Joe, pleased at having become the centre ofattention, for Daisy had also fixed her blue eyes on him, and evenMrs. Bunting looked at him expectantly. "Much more than knives, Mr.Bunting! Why, they've got there, in little bottles, the real poisonwhat people have been done away with."
"And can you go there whenever you like?" asked Daisy wonderingly.She had not realised before what extraordinary and agreeableprivileges are attached to the position of a detective member ofthe London Police Force.
"Well, I suppose I could--" Joe smiled. "Anyway I can certainlyget leave to take a friend there." He looked meaningly at Daisy,and Daisy looked eagerly at him.
But would Ellen ever let her go out by herself with Mr. Chandler?Ellen was so prim, so--so irritatingly proper. But what was thisfather was saying? "D'you really mean that, Joe?"
"Yes, of course I do!"
"Well, then, look here! If it isn't asking too much of a favour, Ishould like to go along there with you very much one day. I don'twant to wait till The Avenger's caught"--Bunting smiled broadly."I'd be quite content as it is with what there is in that museumo' yours. Ellen, there,"--he looked across at his wife--"don'tagree with me about such things. Yet I don't think I'm abloodthirsty man! But I'm just terribly interested in all that sortof thing--always have been. I used to positively envy the butlerin that Balham Mystery!"
Again a look passed between Daisy and the young man--it was a lookwhich contained and carried a great many things backwards andforwards, such as--"Now, isn't it funny that your father shouldwant to go to such a place? But still, I can't help it if he doeswant to go, so we must put up with his company, though it wouldhave been much nicer for us to go just by our two selves." Andthen Daisy's look answered quite as plainly, though perhaps Joedidn't read her glance quite as clearly as she had read his: "Yes,it is tiresome. But father means well; and 'twill be very pleasantgoing there, even if he does come too."
"Well, what d'you say to the day after to-morrow, Mr. Bunting? I'dcall for you here about--shall we say half-past two?--and justtake you and Miss Daisy down to the Yard. 'Twouldn't take verylong; we could go all the way by bus, right down to WestminsterBridge." He looked round at his hostess: "Wouldn't you join us,Mrs. Bunting? 'Tis truly a wonderful interesting place."
But his hostess shook her head decidedly. "'Twould turn me sick,"she exclaimed, "to see the bottle of poison what had done away withthe life of some poor creature!
"And as for knives--!" a look of real horror, of startled fear,crept over her pale face.
"There, there!" said Bunting hastily. "Live and let live--that'swhat I always say. Ellen ain't on in this turn. She can juststay at home and mind the cat--I beg his pardon, I mean the lodger!"
"I won't have Mr. Sleuth laughed at," said Mrs. Bunting darkly."But there! I'm sure it's very kind of you, Joe, to think of givingBunting and Daisy such a rare treat"--she spoke sarcastically, butnone of the three who heard her understood that.
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