Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square: A Mystery
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CHAPTER XIV.
THE LADY'S HANDKERCHIEF WHICH CONSTABLE POND PICKED UP IN CATCHPOLE SQUARE.
"The Little Busy Bee" was an afternoon newspaper with a greatcirculation, which took for its motto the familiar lines:--
"How doth the Little Busy Bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From ev'ry opening flow'r."
To this journal Dick had been an occasional contributor, and he wasresponsible for a paragraph which appeared in its columns on the dayfollowing Mrs. Death's visit to the police station:
"BISHOP STREET POLICE COURT.--A respectable woman, in great distressof mind, accompanied by her little daughter, begged permission to makea statement to the magistrate. It appears that her husband, Mr. AbelDeath, residing at 7, Draper's Mews, and employed as a clerk in theoffice of Mr. Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square, quite suddenly receivedhis discharge last Friday night, and came home greatly distressed bythe dismissal, as well as by pecuniary difficulties and by sickness inhis family. Later in the night, at about ten o'clock, he went out,with the intention, as he stated, of making an appeal to his employerto reinstate him. He did not return home, and from that night his wifehas heard nothing of him. Mrs. Death has been several times toCatchpole Square, in the hope of obtaining some information from Mr.Boyd, but as her knocking at the door has met with no response thepresumption is that that gentleman is out of town. The magistrate saidhe was sure the press would give publicity to her husband'sdisappearance, and there was no doubt, if the paragraphs in the paperscame to Mr. Boyd's notice, that he would write and tell her what heknows of the movements of his late clerk. Compassion was aroused bythe evident ill health of the child, who appears to be suffering frombronchial trouble, and whose efforts to restrain herself fromcoughing, in order that the court should not be disturbed, were verypitiable. The magistrate awarded the poor woman ten shillings from thepoor box, and she left the court in the deepest distress, her littlegirl clinging to her gown."
Dick was surprised not to see his uncle in court. Inspector Robson hadpromised to be present, and it was seldom that he broke a promise.Ascribing his absence to official duties elsewhere, Dick parted withMrs. Death at the police court door, and promising to call and see hernext day, he wrote his paragraph for "The Little Busy Bee," andleaving it at the office, went to Paradise Row to secure the roomwhich Mrs. Pond had to let.
It was that little woman's washing day, and, like the maid in thenursery rhyme, she was hanging up clothes in her back yard. Hearingthe knock she hurried to the door, with her sleeves tucked up to hershoulder, and wiping her hands on a towel. She wore an apron with abib, and tucked in the bib was the lady's handkerchief which ConstablePond had picked up the previous night. She had been about to plunge itinto the washtub when she heard the knock, and she had hastily slippedit in there as she hurried to the door.
"Constable Applebee tells me you have a room to let," said Dick.
"Yes, we have, sir," replied Mrs. Pond, her rosy face, which was ofthe apple-dumpling order, glowing with delight, "and very good it isof him to recommend us. I hope you won't mind the state I'm in. I'mdoing the washing." She said this very simply; there was no falsepride about Mrs. Pond.
"I shall ask you to do mine," said Dick, "if the room suits me."
"I shouldn't mind, sir. I'll show you the room if you'll be goodenough to follow me."
She preceded him up the narrow flight of stairs, and opened the door.It was a small room, but it was clean and tidy, and sufficientlyfurnished for Dick's requirements.
"The rent?" asked Dick.
"Would three-and-six a week be too much, sir?" she asked anxiously.
"Not a bit," replied Dick, "if you'll give me a latchkey."
"We can do that, sir. Pond had an extra one made on purpose. 'If it'sa gentleman,' he said, 'let him have it. If it's a lady she can't havea latchkey, no, not if she begged for it on her bended knees.'"
"I'll take the room, Mrs. Pond," said Dick, with a genial smile, "andI'll give you a week's rent in advance, if it's only for theconfidence you place in me."
Nervously plucking at her bib as she received the money, she displacedthe handkerchief, which fluttered to the ground. Dick stooped to pickit up, and his face grew white as he saw, written in marking ink in acorner, the name of "Florence." He recognised Florence's writing; atthat moment he had one at his breast, bearing the same inscription.