The Bravo of London

by Ernest Bramah

  ‘Breakfast, eh? I’ll see about mine since you remind me. And if I was in your place I don’t know that I should be hanging about my job a minute longer than I had to. You get nothing extra for that, inspector, eh?’

  With this pleasantry he swung off again and the pair disappeared into the gateway. The inspector slowly proceeded to fill and light his pipe and then, throwing the implement into the hollow of his arm, began to stroll casually up and down the roadway, never very far distant from that house—waiting for his mate. He had a particularly guileless face and mild speculative eyes that seemed to be quietly considering.

  CHAPTER XVI

  LAST LAUGHTER

  WHEN those two excellent, if not exactly good, companions, Messrs Joolby and Bronsky, approached the house after their interlude with the water-inspector they stood for a moment surveying its uncompromisingly reticent front before making up their minds to enter. To do the cripple justice all the reluctance was on his associate’s part for, at the sight of a quietude which might equally be either ominous or reassuring, Mr Bronsky displayed a tendency to hang back and comb his impressive beard in characteristic discretion. Meanwhile the chauffeur who had driven them there—a subordinate member of the band—had garaged his car and was loitering about the drive in the expectation of further instructions.

  ‘You are sure it would be quite all right?’ questioned Mr Bronsky for the third time since they had left the vehicle. ‘I have grave misgivings.’

  ‘It’s both quiet and all right.’ Joolby’s whole frame, balanced on his props, was pulsing and throbbing with suppressed fires as he regarded the other askance. ‘Why shouldn’t it be all right, eh? eh?’

  ‘I did not like the affairs of yesterday to be plain-speaking between ourselves, Julian Joolby,’ recriminated Mr Bronsky. ‘There was air of something in the wind that did not mean nothing. You was not where you said you would and the others could not be found, did not know, or would not say anything. In short, it was dubious behaviour.’

  ‘That’s soon explained,’ said Joolby, becoming comparatively amiable as he saw that there was nothing serious to rebut, ‘only I’m sorry that you should have been put out by it, Bronsky. As a matter of fact I had to go off at a moment’s notice to arrange our connection at the coast. Fellow owning the bungalow wanted to crawfish. I left a message with Jake and I hear that one of his brats was run over and so he forgot everything.’

  ‘But however the others?’

  ‘Same as with you. They found out that I had gone somewhere, couldn’t get in touch, and that put the wind up and they began to imagine everything. The consequence was that you didn’t find them either. That’s all right, Bronsky; these little hitches are bound to crop up but a couple of hours more will see everything brought in and us well on our way with it.’

  ‘I hopes so. All same I begin to think it would have been more good to have met you at the other end; only I—’

  ‘Only you wanted to see that we were really going your way when we’d got the boodle, didn’t you?’ supplied Joolby with rough good-humour. ‘Now it seems to me that we’re the first here and, what’s more, I don’t mind laying a farthing bun to a penny tart as that slut Cora’s skipped it. Well—’ he instanced a crude proverb based on the assumption that in certain circumstances a riddance is no loss which, being obscene in the extreme, had the effect of somewhat raising Mr Bronsky’s spirits.

  Mr Joolby’s surmise proved to be right. When they let themselves into the house it soon became evident that not only were they the first there, but everything pointed to the place having been left unattended for an appreciable period. Noticing one thing after another that showed neglect they climbed up to the dining-room on the first floor, where they had last sat, and there on the table were the uncleared remains of Thursday’s lunch, plain evidence of someone’s dereliction.

  ‘There you are!’ panted Joolby, waving a stick towards the table as if it had been a conjurer’s wand and would cause everything to disappear by magic. ‘What did I tell you, eh? eh? The bitch never came here yesterday at all. Must have cleared off on Thursday soon after me and the others left. Anything might have happened. Fortunately,’ he added, with an eye towards the effect of this disclosure on Mr Bronsky’s disquieted nerves, ‘fortunately it didn’t.’

  ‘No, but it could have might,’ contended Mr Bronsky. ‘A woman can never be trusted to do the right until she understand that whatever she do it will be wrong.’

  ‘Everything pretty well as usual down below, boss,’ reported the third man, who had been sent to investigate the cellars meanwhile. ‘That’s to say the three cullies is there sure ’nuf, but there’s a goodish drop o’ watt’r coming under the No. 4 door. Blind guy says he thinks a pipe must have burst or su’thing and he’s kind of sore that he and the skirt haven’t had nothin’ since Thursday.’

  ‘Of course they haven’t—with no one here how the hell could they? Well, they’ll have to go without an hour or two more. But I won’t have it any longer with George and his shirty bit—there’s no room for a — madonna in the outfit. I don’t half like the business of a water-pipe bursting and that inspector fellow nosing about outside. If I hadn’t smoothed him over pleasant he might have wanted to come in and go right through the place and how’d we fix that up at a moment’s notice? If it wasn’t that we’ve only a few hours to go—’

  ‘Someone coming round, boss,’ interrupted the third. ‘He gave the taps all right. Shall I go down and see to it?’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ replied Joolby; ‘we’re coming down as well. It’s time they were all here. Which is this one? Look over the stairs, Bronsky.’

  His progress, as usual, was slow and by the time they were on the landing the arrival had been admitted. The comrade leaned over the banisters and sent down a fraternal greeting.

  ‘It’s the little persecuted brother,’ he informed Mr Joolby. And to the victim himself: ‘God be with—No! no! I mean: To Hell with order, comrade!’

  ‘Whichever you prefer, comrade,’ replied Won Chou politely.

  ‘You came along the back street way, didn’t you?’ asked his master when they were all in the hall together. Won Chou nodded. ‘Any signs that side of Larch or Nickle?’

  ‘Not see. By the way, when George does get here you may find that he has got a grunch about you.’

  ‘Oh, has he? Well, for that matter I happen to have a grunch about him to balance it and unless I’m mistaken mine will have bigger teeth than his will. He got a grunch!’ The misshapen thing spat venomously.

  ‘I have been hear of your outdoing that evil fellow Max Carrados just then,’ observed Mr Bronsky to the little brother as they stood about, waiting, with their various degrees of unconcern or the reverse, for the arrival of the others. ‘Freedom shake you with the hand for the occasion.’

  ‘I shake myself with the hand,’ was the modest assent, and he quite literally did so. ‘I have owed Mr Carrados one for several years.’

  ‘Is that what?’ asked Bronsky.

  ‘When I first met him—in Shanghai—I tried to do a small stroke of business between us. I offer to sell him my little sister Hwa for eighty trade dollars.’

  ‘Eh? Well?’ Even at that distracting moment Mr Joolby found himself taking a passing interest in so human a theme. ‘What happened about it?’

  ‘Knock me down,’ admitted Won Chou simply.

  Mr Bronsky gave utterance to a ‘tsssk!’ of disgust. ‘He had not the rightness,’ he pronounced with decision.

  ‘No; all my people say it was too cheap; in fact I got a hundred and ten later. That was before I had education at the mission college, of course. Afterwards I learned that it was far better not to sell them—outright.’

  ‘Well, anyhow, it was time that Carrados was roped,’ summed up Joolby. ‘He was passing the ice too free; Bronsky here got the idea that he was a plaster-of-Paris almighty and could do anyone and knew everything … Did he talk Chinese to you, Won?’

  ‘No.’ And then, without a flic
ker in his eye: ‘Did he talk Sudanese to you, Joolby?’

  ‘Eh? What’s that?’ demanded Mr Joolby, beginning to glower ominously. Fortunately, perhaps, just then there was the sound of a car outside and the humbler member of the crew, who had small interest in these personal feelings, put his head inside to announce the arrival of ‘the others’. These proved to be Nickle and George Larch who very soon appeared, both burdened with several packages which from their laboured movements had every appearance of being weighty.

  ‘Ah, here we are at last,’ said Joolby with obvious satisfaction. ‘You’ve brought the lot, I suppose? Carry them through into the yellow room at the back for the time, you two. You had no trouble, Nickle?’

  ‘Easy as toffee. We came Herriot Lane and there wasn’t a soul to be seen. I’ve just run the car in loose. What about it?’

  ‘Leave it there handy. We’ll keep it in reserve and have it follow. Go now and see that both are filled up with enough spare juice for a double journey—we don’t want to have to take in anywhere and leave our number. And make sure that everything’s running smooth: there’s got to be no tinkering this excursion.’

  ‘Say a matter of ten minutes.’

  ‘Eight o’clock’s plenty of time. You take first car, cruise, and pick up Vallett and his load near the windmill on Keystone Common not later than two. That gives you five hours to slip into Seabridge at dusk. We’ll be there for you.’

  ‘All serene,’ undertook Nickle, hurrying out again. Joolby followed the stuff into the yellow room behind and waited for Larch to bring in the last package.

  ‘Now look here, George, this won’t do,’ he said roughly, when he was satisfied that all he had expected was there. ‘Orders are orders and what I say goes or you or any other man will find dam’ quick that he’s up against it. Your wife was to be here in charge all yesterday, seeing to those three below. Well, what happened?’

  ‘I know all about that, Mr Joolby,’ replied George in his usual temperate, respectful way, ‘and I’m taking the responsibility for what did happen. You’ll remember how I always told you that Cora must have the first chance to get away if anything went wrong—?’

  ‘Well, well,’ interrupted Joolby impatiently, ‘what’s that got to do with your precious wife being kept on ice? Nothing went wrong anywhere.’

  ‘No, but you thought it would,’ said George, keeping his temper with admirable restraint. ‘I don’t pretend to know what it was but something came through and on Thursday night you fancied anything might happen. When the rest of us were going about our jobs you and one or two others had quietly put on your roller skates and were lying doggo near the coast, waiting to get the tip and ready to do a bunk for safety.’

  ‘Does it sound likely?’ The usual symptoms of resentment at being crossed began to suffuse the monstrous swelling body. ‘Haven’t I got my shop and goods to consider—all I possess? How could I—as you say—skate off and leave everything I have behind? That’s the way you talk, you foolish fellow.’

  ‘You sold your shop and stock a week ago, Mr Joolby,’ steadily replied George. ‘At least all the heavy stuff and I don’t doubt that you have the valuables put away somewhere handy. I tell you it won’t do, it isn’t the square thing—leaving Cora without a chance, to take the first concussion. If I’d known as much—’

  ‘Oh, to hell with you and Cora!’ Joolby exploded passionately. ‘You talk as if the piece was a bleeding Aphrodite in a tissue-paper chemise. I’ve had the sjambok put across the hams of better women than her for a dam’ sight less than she’s done. If you can’t keep your Cora in line, Larch, you’d better clear and make way for men with more guts.’

  ‘Oh, so it’s that, is it?’ speculated George, regarding his employer gravely. ‘I thought you were beating up for a split as soon as I’d finished your job, Mr Joolby. Well, I’m quite ready to go—in fact after what you’ve just said you couldn’t possibly keep me—’

  ‘I’ve paid you up for all …’

  ‘You have—at your price—and I hope it’ll be the last money I shall ever earn in that way.’ He started to leave the room quietly enough, but as he reached the door a sudden impulse brought him in a couple of strides to Joolby’s side and for a moment his placid eyes blazed as he stood with a fist drawn back and the cripple shrinking before it.

  ‘No, you are quite safe after all,’ he said, turning away and dropping his hand. ‘Things like you burst if a man treads on you.’ Without a word to any there he marched from the house with head erect and—as it happened—left the grounds by the back gate; so that, all unknowingly, he passed out of the lane at the exact moment when a high-speed car, unusually well manned, whirled into it at the other end.

  ‘Julian Joolby,’ said a disapproving voice, and sheering round—always an awkward move—Joolby saw that Mr Bronsky had looked in by another door and been a witness of the last stage of the quarrel; ‘Julian Joolby, when will you learn to snaffle your violent emotion?’

  ‘Eh? Oh nonsense: that was all bunko,’ he replied, developing his malicious grin. ‘I put that across to work George up. Now he’s clear out of it and a good job too, between us.’

  ‘Yes, yes, but is it safe?’

  ‘Of course it’s safe or d’y’a think I’d have done it? He’s made the plates, hasn’t he? He’s done the actual work and if he tried to cross us now we could frame it for him to get the heaviest sentence. George knows that all right; besides he has his perishing Cora to think of. His sort never gets you shopped; and in the end they always go quietly. Now, don’t you see, he’s out of any shares? All in good time I shall work Nickle and Vallett out too. It’s the sensible thing to do when it comes to cutting up big money.’

  ‘You have right, I believe. Yes, it’s tamgod smart. I had not thought of that,’ admitted Mr Bronsky, shedding warm approval. It did not occur to him to speculate whether ultimately he also might not be involved in his fellow conspirator’s squeezing-out process.

  ‘All cars as right as rain,’ reported Nickle, discovering the two still in the back room. ‘Do I take these along?’—he indicated the stack of parcels. ‘By the way, what’s the matter with old George? He went out looking as if he’d swallowed some hot thunder.’

  ‘Said he had to go to see a man about a rabbit. I think it was all an excuse to get a cooling drink,’ replied Mr Joolby in high good humour. ‘No, Nickle, the plates go in the second car. We decided to separate so you will only carry the paper.’

  ‘And Vallett? What about him?’

  ‘He goes on with you and Jim. The two with him make their way back independent—they all know exactly what to do and how to do it. We’re going to make use of those three passengers to cover the run if anyone tries to open on us. Carrados goes with you; Jim attends to him in the car and then you’ll have Vallett later. Now bring up our distinguished myopic friend for a few minutes’ conversation, will you? I’m not going down any more steps than I can help, so if you find the cellar unpleasantly damp you must take the change out of him.’

  ‘You bet I will!’ undertook Nickle forcibly. ‘My infernal thumb pains yet like the very devil. Come along, Jim; you’re detailed to it.’

  ‘But are you sure it is quite prudential, Joolby?’ put in Mr Bronsky with an anxious flutter. ‘This fellow Carrados—’

  ‘Oh, he’s all over and washed out. These conjuring tricks don’t come off more than once. It isn’t that he’s specially clever in the light, only our lot are so damned helpless in the dark. Besides, he hasn’t so much as a toothpick on him now.’

  ‘But this taking him along when he could be lock up here—? No, I cannot relish the idea of that, Joolby.’

  ‘It’s safer, take my word,’ said Joolby, lowering his voice. ‘The fact is, I like that water burst less and less and I’ve put things on an hour as it is so as to get away from here as soon as possible. It was just as it happened, of course, but for all we know it may mean someone being sent up along during the day, and that might be considerably sooner than we�
�re timed for. This way we keep them under our eyes anyhow and I’ve got an idea for using them at the end that cuts the trail finely.’

  ‘Well, it may be as you think,’ admitted the dubious Bronsky, ‘but all the nevertheless I’d sooner rather—’

  The return of Nickle and Jim cut short this interesting proposition. Mr Carrados seemed rather damp and his usually spruce attire certainly conveyed the impression of having been roughly used, but he did not appear to be inordinately depressed himself—not even when Nickle, to give point to his facetious ‘Here’s the goods!’ propelled him unceremoniously forward.

  ‘Ah, our principal guest,’ remarked Mr Joolby agreeably. ‘I trust you found the poor accommodation adequate, Mr Carrados? Owing to your unfortunate visual defect we knew that you’d forgive the meagre lighting provision of our best spare room. In other matters—well, as I daresay you’ve learned by now, we are rather rough and ready.’

  ‘Yes,’ supplemented Nickle threateningly, ‘infernally rough and ready for anything.’

  ‘Scarcely less ready than my companion and myself are—for breakfast,’ ventured Carrados. ‘Ideas of hospitality may vary, Mr Joolby, but I can’t call to mind any civilized tribe where guests—since you call us that—are denied food and drink for forty hours.’

  ‘That’s been a mistake—I apologise, I apologise,’ professed Mr Joolby, with the air of making amends very handsomely. ‘It was entirely without my knowledge—for say what you will when you are free again, Mr Carrados, none of you have been handled any rougher or used any worse than you brought on yourself or the necessity of keeping you safe required.’

  ‘Indeed? I wonder if you expect Geoffrey Tilehurst to subscribe to that?’ he challenged.

  ‘Tilehurst!’ Eyes glanced from him to meet each other and a knowing smile went round. The blind man intercepted the atmosphere and it gave him a moment’s pause but he was too alertly concerned in other signs just then to turn aside for what mattered very little.