Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square: A Mystery

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Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square: A Mystery Page 56

by B. L. Farjeon


  CHAPTER LV.

  CONSTABLE APPLEBEE ON THE WATCH.

  A man may be an easy-going man all his life, and go down to his gravewithout anything occurring to take him, as it were, out of himself, orto make him, either suddenly or by gradual stages, a different beingfrom that which those most intimate with him believe him to be. Wehave seen this exemplified in Dick Remington, who, from an easy-going,irresponsible being, with no definite or serious aim in life, and withan apparently conspicuous lack of industry and application, hassuddenly become an earnest, strong-minded, strong-willed man, bentupon a task which would tax the most astute intellect.

  An experience of this nature, but in a different way, had come toConstable Applebee, in whose mind certain agitating visions had beenconjured up by the appearance of the reward bills. The usually calmdepths were stirred, and the peaceful current of his daily dutiesbecame convulsed. If he could earn only one of the rewards he was amade man, let alone the chances of promotion. The prospect wasalluringly disturbing, and it made Constable Applebee restless andwatchful. When a dull man gets an idea into his head it becomes afixture; to argue with him is time thrown away; it is there, and hesticks to it, perhaps because of its novelty; and when that ideacarries with it the prospect of a lump of money all the logicians inthe world are powerless to remove it until the sterner logic of fact,proves it to be false. And even then he doubts and shakes his head.

  Applebee's idea, which had created these visions of fame and a goldenfuture, was that the man who had committed the murder and who had thejewels in his possession, was no other than Mr. Dick Remington.Whether he alone was the culprit, or in collusion with Mr. ReginaldBoyd, time would show.

  He kept his counsel; not even in the wife of his bosom did he confide.He knew that Detective Lambert had the case in hand, the greatdetective who had brought so many mysterious crimes to light. What ifhe, Applebee, could succeed in proving himself Lambert's equal andsnatching the prize from him? The prospect of such a triumph wasdazzling. Dick met Applebee at the entrance of Deadman's Court, andgave him good evening.

  "Good evening," said Constable Applebee.

  He was not a man of overpowering intellect, and with this weightymatter in his mind he had not the wit to say good evening in his usualcordial manner. Dick noticed the change of tone, but attached noimportance to it.

  Now, the duller-witted a man is, the more suspicious he is, and whileDick noticed a change of manner in Applebee which really existed, andattached no importance to it, Applebee noticed a change of manner inDick which did not exist, and to which he attached immense importance."He sees that I suspect him," thought Applebee, "and is afraid. Whatmakes him afraid? Guilty conscience. That proves it." Thus do we jumpat conclusions when we have all the argument to ourselves.

  He saw nothing more of Dick that night, and great was his chagrin thefollowing day to see pasted on the door of Samuel Boyd's house inCatchpole Square the following notice:

  "Absent on business. All communications for Mr. Remington to beaddressed to Inspector Robson."

  "He's cut and run," was Applebee's first thought. His second thoughtwas that this was a move on Dick's part to put him off the scent. "ButI'll be a match for him," he thought.

  "He's sure to come back, and the next time I lay hands on him off hegoes with me to the station. I'll charge him, and chance it. Thething's as clear as mud. What a fool I was not to have seen it allbefore! Why did he keep hanging round Catchpole Square night afternight while Samuel Boyd was laying dead in bed? Where did he go on thenight of the great fog after I parted with him at three in themorning? He didn't keep in the streets all night, I'll take my oath onthat. Where was he? Why, where else but in Samuel Boyd's house,packing up the things? He was clerk there once, and knows all the insand outs of the place. Pond tells me he keeps his room locked, andthat his missis is not allowed to go into it even to make the bed.What does he keep it shut up for? Is the property there? A searchwarrant would settle that, but as things stand there's no chance of mygetting one. I shouldn't be surprised if he keeps the jewellery abouthim. It must be worth a heap of money. I asked Mrs. Pond this morningwhether he slept there last night. No, he hadn't, nor the nightbefore. He used to live with Inspector Robson, but he doesn't livethere now. Then what has he been doing with himself of a night allthis last week? I'll be hanged if I don't go to Mrs. Robson, and askfor him!"

  Screwing up his courage he presented himself at Aunt Rob's house, andhis knock at the door was answered by that lady herself.

  "Is Mr. Dick Remington in?" he asked.

  "No, he isn't," replied Aunt Rob.

  "Can you tell me where to find him, Mrs. Robson?"

  "No, I can't."

  "Will he be back soon?"

  "I don't know."

  Applebee scratched his head; he had come to the end of his resourcesin that quarter.

  "Do you want him for anything particular?" inquired Aunt Rob,anxiously.

  "Not for anything very particular."

  "Perhaps you'll leave a message."

  "No, thank you," said Applebee, feeling as if he was being badgered,and repeated, "It's nothing very particular." Then he walked away.

  "They're all in a plot together," he mused. "I don't half like the wayshe answered me. She never took her eyes off my face. He's gone off toget rid of the jewellery. I'll keep my eye on Catchpole Square.There's a chance of his coming back for something he left behind. Ifhe does, I'll nab him."

  The longer he brooded upon it the stronger grew his conviction ofDick's complicity in the crime, and the more firmly was he resolved tomake the arrest when he had the chance. Little did he dream of thekind of success that was to attend his zealous efforts and thestartling developments which were to follow.

 

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