Peregrine's Progress

by Jeffery Farnol

  CHAPTER II

  INTRODUCING JASPER SHRIG, A BOW STREET RUNNER

  "Ham, Peregrine?"

  "Thank you, no, Anthony!" said I, shuddering slightly. "But where arethe others? Asleep still?"

  "Gone, Perry. At sight of this ham Jerny shied like a wild colt,Devenham moaned, and together they tottered forth into the bleakworld. Did you say ham, Perry?"

  "I--did--not!"

  "Beef then--beef looks excellent! Beef?"

  "Horrible!" I exclaimed, turning my back on the breakfast table. "Eatif you can, Tony, but talk you must and shall."

  "Of last night, Peregrine?"

  "Of Diana. I've scarcely had a word with you since your arrival."

  "Which was last night."

  "How is she, Anthony? Is she indeed handsomer--lovelier? Did she seemhappy? Did she talk about--did she--happen to mention--"

  "She did, Perry, talked of you frequently, very much so! Won't you trya cup of coffee and a crust--"

  "Tell me how--where you first met her."

  "It was at the ambassador's ball and mark you, Perry, there were someuncommonly fine women there, though none of 'em, no, damme, not one tocompare with my Loveliness, of course--"

  "You mean Barbara?"

  "Of course. Well, my boy, we'd made our bow and here was Lovelinessworrying in her pretty fashion because my cravat had shifted or somesuch, and here was I pulling at the thing and saying, 'Yes, dear,' andmaking it worse when, as the poet says, 'amid this glittering throngof lovely women and gallant men' my charmed eye alighted upon ahaughty beauty, a ravishing creature condescending to be worshipped bya crowd of fawning slaves, civilian, soldier and sailor of allstations and ranks, from purple-faced admirals and general officers topink, downy-whiskered subalterns. 'Egad, Loveliness,' says I, jerkingat my cravat, 'what asinine fools brave men and gallant gentlemen canmake of themselves for lovely woman--look yonder!' 'Where?' says she.'There!' says I, 'the dark, dazzling beauty yonder!' So Lovelinesslooks, and at that very moment Beauty breaks from the abject circle ofher fawning slaves and comes running. 'Diana!' cries Loveliness.'Barbara!' cries Beauty, and they are in each other's arms--and thereyou are, Perry. Astonishing how they love each other. So when I leftto attend this birthday of yours, Loveliness must stay with herDiana--I miss her most damnably!"

  "Has she so many admirers?" I sighed.

  "Hordes of 'em, Perry! Troops, squadrons, regiments, begad! So has myLoveliness, for that matter."

  "And are you never jealous?"

  "Devil a bit, dear fellow. Though," said he, slowly clenching hisright hand into a powerful fist and scowling down at it, "given theoccasion--I could be, Perry, y-e-s, madly, brutally--I could kill--domurder, I believe. Oh, pshaw! My Barbara is so sweet, so purely athing of heaven that sometimes I--I hate myself for not having beenbetter--more worthy. Women are so infinitely better than ourselves, orso infinitely--worse. And she sent you a letter--here it is!"

  "A letter? Diana? Where?"

  "A snack of ham or beef first, Perry, love letters don't go over-wellon empty stomachs--" But here I caught the letter from him and satwith it in fingers that shook a little, staring at the superscription.

  "Her writing has improved amazingly!" said I.

  "Dear fellow," he answered, sharpening the carving knife quiteunnecessarily, "go away and read it, seek some quiet spot and leave meto eat in peace."

  "Thanks, Tony," said I gratefully, and hastened into the next roomforthwith, there to read and re-read the superscription, to commit allthose tender follies natural to lovers and finally to break the seal.

  DEAR, DEAR MY PEREGRINE:Very soon we shall see each other, and this thought makes me tremblewith alternate happiness and dread. Yes, dread, my Peregrine, becausethese years have changed me in many ways--oh, shall I please you as Iam now? Will you love me as you did when I was only your humble Dianaof the Silent Places? For Peregrine, you loved me then so very much,so truly and with such wonderful unselfishness that I am afraid youmay not love the Diana of to-day quite so well as the Diana of twoyears ago. But dear Peregrine, know that my heart is quite--quiteunchanged; you will always be the one man of all others, the Peregrinewhose generous love lifted me high above my girlish dreams but neveroh, never any higher than his own heart. So Peregrine, love me when Icome back to you or these long two years will have been lived in vainand I shall run away back to the Silent Places and die an old maid.Perhaps I shall seem strange when we meet, but this will only bebecause I fear you a little and doubt a little how you may feeltowards this new Diana--so love me, let me see it in your eyes, hearit in your voice. It is so much easier to write than to say, so I willwrite it again--Love me, Peregrine, love me because I am yours--nowand always.

  DIANA.

  Having read this letter I laid it down and took from an inner pocketanother letter, somewhat worn and frayed by over-much handling, whichbore these words, smudged and blotted a little, though written withpainful care.

  DEAR PERRYGREEN:Your letter has made me cry dredfully. I cannot bear to think of youso lonly because I am lonly to. I cannot bear to think of you on yournees I would rather think of you as I saw you last so brave anddetermined. Pray for me as I pray for you only don't rite to me or Ishall run back to you because I am not very brave and want you so. Odear Perrygreen always love

  YOUR DIANA.

  "You're looking confoundedly glum, Perry; I hope the _billet_ isquite sufficiently _doux_?"

  "Quite--indeed, quite!" said I, starting out of my reverie. "It is aletter such as only Diana could have written--"

  "Then your woe undoubtedly proceeds from stomach; for the emptiness ofsame I prescribe ham, shall we say mingled--judiciously blended--withbeef--"

  "Abhorrent thought!" I exclaimed. At this moment, after a discreetknock on the door, my valet Clegg entered.

  "Sir," said he in his soft and toneless voice, "the groom is below;shall you ride or drive this morning?"

  "Neither!" I answered, whereupon Clegg bowed and withdrew.

  "Excellent!" nodded Anthony. "Nothing like walking to make an emptystomach aware of its vacuity. By the way, queer article that Cleggfellow of yours--face like a mask! Where did you pick him up?"

  "I don't remember. He had excellent references, I believe. Why do youask?"

  "Fancy I've seen him before. Come, let us adventure forth in search ofyour appetite."

  To us in the hall came Clegg to bring our hats and canes.

  "Were you ever in the service of a Captain Danby?" enquired Anthony,his keen gaze on Clegg's impassive face.

  "Yes, sir, I was valet to Captain Marmaduke Danby--two years ago."

  "I saw you with him once at a small inn called 'The Jolly Waggoner.'"

  Clegg bowed deferentially, but when he looked up his pale eyes seemedto glow strangely and his pallid cheek was slightly flushed.

  "Yes, sir, Captain Danby sent for me to attend him there--I found himin bed exceedingly--unwell. He was--suffering, sir. He suffered quitea--good deal of--pain, sir--of pain."

  Saying which, Clegg bowed us out into the street with a deeperobeisance than usual.

  "Strange!" said Anthony, taking my arm. "You have probably forgottenthis Danby, the fellow I had the pleasure of thrashing, Perry?"

  "I shall never forget how you stood on him and wiped your boots,Anthony."

  "I did chastise him somewhat severely, I remember. But I learnedsomething more of his villainy from Barbara, as we drove away, and Ireturned next day to give him another dose but found him in bedbandaged like a mummy and this Clegg fellow of yours beside him. Ilearned afterwards that he was friend to that same scoundrel Barbara'sfather was forcing the sweet soul to marry, damn him!"

  "The world seems full of unhanged villains!" said I, through shutteeth.

  "Oh, is it, begad?"

  "It is!"

  "You're devilish gloomy, Perry."

  "I fear I am."

  "All stomach, ye know, dear fellow. I've noticed this poor old worldis generally blamed most damnably, purel
y because of the night of themorning after--more especially upon an empty--"

  "Don't say it again, Anthony, for heaven's sake!"

  "But you're curst gloomy and devilish doleful--"

  "Anthony, dear man, while you were snoring blissfully this morning Iwatched a poor, beautiful young creature dragged out of the river."

  "Dead, Perry?"

  "Yes. She was probably drowning herself last night while we drank andrioted--poor despairing child!" and here I described the dreadfulincident very fully. "You have never met or heard of any one namedHaredale, have you, Anthony?" I ended.

  "No," he answered, "no! Gad, Perry," he burst out with a vicious twirlof his cane, "there are times when killing is a laudable act!" Afterthis we walked in silence for some time.

  "Where are we going?" he questioned suddenly.

  Hereupon I glanced up, for I had walked with my gaze bent earthward,and saw that we were close upon the river.

  "Since we are here," I answered, "I will show you where it--she lies.It was yonder they found her, and over there, beyond those trees, is awretched tavern--"

  "And on the other side of the hedge, Perry, is a small, unpleasantperson who peeps and peers and follows. Let us investigate!"

  So saying, Anthony turned suddenly and confronted a small,mean-looking fellow who starting back out of reach, touched a shaggyeyebrow, cringed, and spoke:

  "No offence, my lords an' gents--none in th' world, s' help me true!"Having said which, he clapped fingers to mouth and whistled veryshrilly. "Not by no means nowise meanin' no offence, my lords," quothhe apologetically, "but dooty is dooty--an' 'ere 'e be!" Glancingwhither he pointed, I saw a man approaching, a shortish,broad-shouldered, square-faced, leisurely person in a broad-brimmed,low-crowned hat and full-skirted frieze greatcoat; a man of slow gaitand deliberate movement but with a quick and roving eye.

  "Th' little 'un's th' gent, guv'nor--'e's th' cove! whispered themean-looking fellow hoarsely, and now I recognised him as one of thetwo waterside characters I had met that morning with my uncle Jervas.The man in the frieze coat removed his hat, bobbed round head atAnthony, at me, and spoke, addressing himself to me:

  "'T is in ewidence, sir, as you an' another gent 'appened to bea-passin' by when a lately de-funct o' the fe-male persuasion vas tookout o' th' river at the hour o' four-two-two pre-cisely, this 'erewerry mornin'. Am I right?"

  "That is so," I answered.

  "'T is also in ewidence, sir, as you an' your friend 'appening topass--by chance or de-sign, so werry remarkable early in the mornin',stopped to ob-serve same de-funct party o' the fe-male persuasion. AmI right again?"

  "We did."

  "'T is furthermore in ewidence, sir, that upon ob-serving corpse, youan' your friend seemed werry much took aback, not to say overcome. AmI--"

  "They was, Jarsper, they was--oncommon!" quoth the smaller manhoarsely.

  "'Enery, 'old your tongue! Now, sir, am I right or am I not?"

  "We were both very naturally shocked," said I.

  "Vich feelin's, sir, does you both credit--oceans. But 't is furtherin ewidence as your friend did commit a assault upon the body o' oneThomas Vokins by means of a cane an' there an' then took, removed,appre'ended or ab-stracted ewidence in the shape o' a piece o' paperas 'ad fell from right 'and o' said corpse. Am I right once more?"

  "Not altogether!" said I. "The man wrenched open the dead girl'sfingers so brutally that my--companion very properly rapped him withhis cane and noticing the piece of paper, ordered the man to give itto him."

  "Good--werry good! Now I puts it to you, sir--vere is that piece o'paper?"

  "Probably in my companion's possession."

  "Good again! An' vere might 'e be?"

  "That I decline to tell you!"

  "Vy then, sir, dooty bein' dooty, I'll take a valk."

  "As you will!" said I. "Come, Anthony!" and turning, we began toretrace our steps. But we had gone but a little way when I facedsuddenly about, for the man was plodding at our heels.

  "Why the devil do you follow us?" I demanded, greatly exasperated.

  "Becos' dooty is dooty, sir, an' dooty demands same," he answeredimperturbably.

  "Who are you, fellow?"

  "Jarsper Shrig, Bow Street officer--werry much at your service, sir!"

  "And what do you want of me?"

  "A piece o' paper, sir, as ewidence to establish i-dentifi-cation ofde-funct young party o' the fe-male persuasion in a case o' murder orfeller-de-see--"

  Here I turned and walked on again in no little perplexity.

  "What am I to do, Anthony?" I muttered.

  "Bring the fellow to your chambers, despatch a note to Sir Jervas andleave it to his decision."

  So we walked on, perfectly ignoring this very pertinacious Bow Streetofficer; but I, for one, was not sorry when at last we reached thedoor of my chambers, and halting, turned to behold the Bow Streetofficer, who had stopped also and appeared to be lost in contemplationof the adjacent chimney pots. And as he stood thus, I was struck byhis air of irreproachable respectability and pervading mildness;despite the formidable knotted stick beneath his arm, he seemed indeedto radiate benevolence from the soles of his stout boots to the crownof his respectable, broad-brimmed hat.

  "A re-markable vide-avake young man, yours, sir," said he gently,still apparently lost in contemplation of the chimney pots, "are-markable vatchful young man an' werry attentive!"

  "What do you mean, officer?"

  "I mean, sir, as he's opened your door afore you knocked."

  Glancing at the door, I saw indeed, to my surprise, that it stoodslightly ajar; hereupon I reached out to open it when it swung wideand my man Clegg stood before us.

  "I saw you approaching, sir," he exclaimed, bowing us in.

  Reaching my small library, the officer seated himself at my invitationand depositing hat and stick very precisely beneath his chair, satlooking more unctuously mild than ever, there was about him a vaguesuggestion of conventicles, and a holy Sabbatarian calm.

  "You said your name was Shrig, I think?" said I.

  "Jarsper Shrig, sir, at your sarvice."

  "Then perhaps, while I write my letter, you will take a glass of wine,Mr. Shrig?"

  "Sir," he answered, "not beating about no bushes, I vill--Mr.Werricker, sir."

  "You know my name?" I exclaimed a little sharply.

  "I dedooce same, sir, from them three letters on your secretary as isa-staring me straight in the face, Mr. Werricker."

  "Pray, Anthony, oblige me by ringing the bell!" said I, taking up mypen.

  Soft-treading, the discreet Clegg duly brought in decanter andglasses, and Mr. Shrig, watching him pour out the wine, drew from hiscapacious pocket a little book and opened it, much as though he wouldhave read forth a text of Scripture, but all he said was:

  "Thank 'ee, my man!" and then, as the door closed upon the discreetlysilent Clegg, "Your 'ealth, gen'elmen!"

  The letter to my uncle Jervas being written and despatched, I turnedto find Mr. Shrig busied with his little book and a stumpy pencil,much as if he had been composing a sermon or address, while Anthony,lounging upon the settee, watched him with lazy interest.

  "A on-commonly taking cove, sir, that young man o' yourn!" said Mr.Shrig, pocketing book and pencil.

  "Not more so than other servants, I believe," I answered.

  "And all valets," murmured Anthony, "all valets are predatory bynature, of course--"

  "I mean as he's a likely cove. Now, talkin' o' corpses--" began Mr.Shrig.

  "But we are not!" said I.

  "Axing your parding, sir, but I am and, perfessionally speakin', never'ave I seen a prettier corp', than this 'ere young fe-male inquestion--"

  "And your experience in such is vast, I take it?" murmured Anthony.

  "None waster, sir! Wast is the werry vord for it."

  "Do you think this is a case of suicide or murder?" enquired Anthony.

  "Can't say, sir. But somevun's allvays bein' murdered, murderin' orgoin'
for to murder somevun, somevere or t'other."

  "Sounds cheery!" murmured Anthony. "Do you catch many murderers?"

  "Pretty fair, sir, pretty fair. I got a special aptitood for it; I cansmell murder in the werry air, feel it, taste it--"

  "Must be devilish unpleasant!" said Anthony.

  "'Tis a nat'ral gift wi' me, sir. Lord love ye, gen'elmen, I can p'intyou out a murderer afore the fact's committed--I've got the names o'four on 'em--no, five--wrote down in my little reader, five werrypromisin' coves as is doo for the deed at any moment; I'm a vaitin'for 'em to bring it off, sirs. Lord, I'm a vatchin' over 'em like afeyther an' mother rolled into vun, an' v'en they do commit the deed,I shall appre'end 'em red-'anded an' up they'll go."

  "Your methods are highly original, Mr. Shrig," said I, "but do theyalways work correctly?"

  "Ever an' always, sir--barrin' accidents. O' course, there's many apromisin' murderer died afore 'e could do the deed, death 'as no morerespect for vould-be murderers than for their wictims. But whenever Isees a cove or covess with the true murderer's face, down goes thatcove or covess' name in my little reader, an' I vatches an' vaits for'em to bring it off, werry patient."

  "Have you written down the name of Haredale in your little book?" Ienquired.

  "Haredale, Mr. Werricker, sir? V'y no, I ain't. V'y should I, sir? Votha' you to tell me about any party, name o' Haredale?"

  "Only that you will find such a name on the piece of paper you areafter."

  Mr. Shrig's roving eye fixed me for a moment.

  "Haredale?" he muttered, shaking his head, "Haredale?"

  At this juncture, with a soft knock on the door, Clegg presentedhimself, bearing the following letter from my uncle.

  MY DEAR PEREGRINE:I am grateful for your forethought, but you may suffer the man tovisit me, for the law is the law--besides, the man Shrig is an oldacquaintance. Moreover I have learned all I desired from the scrap ofpaper and it is therefore entirely at Mr. Shrig's service. Should youstill be suffering from spleen, liver or the blue devils, go for agallop on your "Wildfire."

  With which salutary advice to yourself and good wishes to your friendMr. Vere-Manville,

  I REST, YOUR AFFECTIONATE UNCLE, JERVAS.

  "Mr. Shrig," said I, "you have my uncle's permission to wait upon himat once. Sir Jervas is acquainted with you, it seems?"

  "Sir Jervas?" repeated Mr. Shrig, reaching down for hat and knobbystick. "Ackvainted? I should say so, sir! A reg'lar bang-up blood, adownright 'eavy toddler--oh, I know Sir Jervas, ackvainted is thewerry i-denti-cal name for it! So, with your permission, sir, I'll bepadding on my vay."

  "You will find him at his chambers in--"

  "St. James's Street, nigh opposite to Vite's, Mr. Werricker, sir. Ahmany's the drop o' French brandy, glass o' port or sherry as I'vedrank to the 'ealth o' your uncle in them werry i-dentical chambers,sir. A gent wi' a werry elegant taste in crime is Sir Jervas. No,don't trouble to come down, sir, your young man shall let me out. Areg'lar treasure that 'ere young man o' yours, Mr. Werricker! Goodmorning, gen'elmen both, my best respex!"

  So saying, Mr. Shrig bobbed his head to us in turn, beamed as it mighthave been in benediction, and took himself away.