age old adage that a humble, friendly demeanor is what’s best for business. To Bailey he was a gracious host to the young man’s rich cut of clothes and open show of wealth on his arrival in town, and now an indentured servant, it seems, after learning of the secret powers he held at his disposal. He brought with him a second dinner, lavish and excessive by all accounts—food and deserts and coffee and strong ale enough for three or four—along with a plea for aid after his guest has had a sample of his compliments.
“Well, it seems you are a very clever fellow to wait until I have already had a bite of this wonderful goose, and washed it down with a mouthful of this splendid whiskey before putting the matter to me,” said Bailey wryly, dabbing at a corner of his mouth with a napkin. “I can hardly turn you away without hearing you out at least, now can I?” He waved the man towards an empty seat nearby. “Pray take this chair by the fireplace opposite me, and we will have it out of you.”
Nodding with every civility, and stepping with the delicate touch of a money borrower the landlord bowed his way into the chair he had been shown. The detective offered him his pipe which he refused, but he was quick to spring forward to light it up for Bailey as he rolled up a fat one over the surface of the little table beside his chair. Chewing lightly on the end of it he nodded to show that the landlord was to begin.
The man dived right in, talking quickly as if he were more than eager to get some things off his chest. “I fear I have come, my lord, to inconvenience you on a singular matter in which I hoped I might have earned through my own actions these past few days a little of your help.”
“I hardly expect that you have brought me this excellent second supper for my own sake,” Bailey replied with some amusement. “So by all means let us have it all out on the table now.”
The innkeeper passed the back of one hand over his brow before continuing.
“It is a matter of intimacy, but also considerable urgency, and should someone not act on it I fear the consequences may be dire.”
“For whom, pray?” asked Bailey.
“Me,” he replied at once.
“And your name is Rivers, correct?”
The landlord nodded gratefully. “That is it, sir. I am happy you remembered.”
“Go on then. Are you in trouble?”
“Most definitely, my lord.”
“With the police?”
“Not yet, but if allowed to proceed unchecked I am certain the authorities will become involved at some point, to my detriment.”
Bailey took a deep, long drag on his smoke.
“Then what is it you wish me to do?”
Again there was a silence, marked by the profound observation from our detective that Mr. Rivers was stuck at a crossroads in between choices, crushed between the inescapable need for the aid of this unexpected savior, but yet unable to properly entrust his business to him for fear of a coming swerve in how things might play out. It plainly suggested that the landlord had, through no fault of his own, run afoul of the law.
“Ah!” cried the innkeeper with relief and gratitude when Bailey spoke aloud his thoughts to him. “Ah! You have it exactly, my lord. You have seen into my heart and you will pluck away my fears if you will only consent to help. I am at wits end, though it is only all too fortunate that you happened to show yourself to me tonight. A fraction of the powers you have displayed at my counter would be more than sufficient, I beg, to deliver me! Please do not deny me.”
“Well,” said Bailey, “What is it you want my help with?”
Mr. Rivers wrung his hands together with evident trepidation.
“I fear to utter the matter, for I fear also to be seen as an accomplice to the crime.”
“We are only two of us here,” Bailey assured him, “and I shall keep your secret. You have aroused my curiosity in the matter, and I am eager to hear it.”
It seemed to be the answer the innkeeper was hoping for, while at the same time dreading to hear. But reinforcing his resolve with a long breath taken deeply into his lungs he began to speak at once, lest the moment of interest passes him by.
“It has something to do with my cellars, my lord.”
“Your cellars?”
He nodded. “They are my pride and joy, room enough for thirty, and the lifeblood of my business. Mortared to keep in moisture, but buried deep enough into the earth that my wares—food-stocks and plenty of good drink—are kept cold and impervious to the harsh effects of our humid summer air and frigid winter winds. But my cellars, alas, are no longer my own, and have not been for some time now! A gang of roughs has had their way with my larders for their own purposes, and I am forced into peddling to their sense of mercy.
“These are the worst of beings, my lord, with sick hearts and callous disregard for the laws of the nation! Ever since they took over I have been made to hand them the keys to my kingdom for their uses, with which they have moved a great deal of things through—in and out if you catch my meaning”—here the innkeeper touches his nose and winks slyly towards Bailey— “under pretense of being my own hired help. Every Friday night a shipment of something or other is moved into my cellars, and before every Monday morning it is moved out again. Although I am present at each such occasion, for they have made me their keeper of keys against my will, I have never been able to take inventory. You see, I am left in the dark as much as anyone, but ensnared all the same with the added disadvantage of total ignorance of the matter that I fear will never be believed by another living soul if the whole thing is blown up.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, leaning in next to Bailey’s ear. “I fear they might be smugglers or coiners, sir, and once things come to light I will almost certainly be trapped alongside these criminals as an accomplice if I do not have your help.”
“If these men are indeed who you say,” said Bailey with some distaste, “I must reproach you for getting involved with them in the first place.”
“Ah!” bemoaned the innkeeper. “Rest assured I wanted nothing to do with them. When they first approached me under pretense of friendship to rent space in my cellars I firmly steered them away. But later they returned, accosted me in the dead of night with a new offer which was not so friendly, and really what am I to do, my lord, when it is my own life and livelihood being threatened? Ever since then they have paid me for the use of my keys—a grand tail and three catties every week—to buy my silence. I suspect they have paid up also for leverage and use as evidence of my collaboration with them should I fall prey to my conscience and turn the lot of them in. What could I have done, I ask you again, my lord, if you had not appeared to me when you did?”
“How long ago was this,” Bailey asked him, “when they first approached you?”
Mr. Rivers looked at his hands and counted off his fingers.
“Two months and three weeks ago to the day, sir. It was a Friday like this one. In the early hours of the morning I had callers at my door seeking my cooperation, and late in the evening I was set upon again by the same people before getting to bed.”
“And what is it you wish for me to do now? Shall I appeal to the police for you and vouch for your innocence on your behalf?”
The landlord looked positively horrified, going very white in the face. “No, sir! No! My lord, it would be disastrous to say the least. Forgive me, but if you were to interfere in such a manner tonight, things would go very badly for me tomorrow—or the day after when you leave and I am robbed of your protection. Implicated I would certainly be branded, and in these parts that is a sentence from which there is no parole. Even if things work out for the better these are locals, and there’s no telling how big their gang is, or how far their reach extends. When you are gone it will be me who is looked upon as having given away their comrades, and I will have no one to defend me from them then.”
“Then what is it you wish from me?”
The man coughed into his hand. “Forgive me, my lord,” he said again and again, bowing his head
each time to make his point. “Forgive me, but I do not want things to end badly for anyone if it can be helped. I am a simple man, and only wish that this thing had not happened upon me at all. If you can”—and his voice quivers more still, as if embarrassed and afraid of what he had to say— “If you can just speak with them, a simple word or two will do, along with a show of your powers. These are small-minded folk. They will go elsewhere with their business, and I will be absolved.”
“You wish for me to make them leave you alone?”
The innkeeper nodded his head furiously.
“It is a coward’s method, I admit. But I am, as I have said before, a simple man, and it is no concern of mine where this gang ends up so long as it is anywhere but here.” The hapless fellow turned his pleading gaze fully upon his savior. “I am not a wealthy man, surely less so in the eyes of a constant companion of royalty. But I am not also without resources, and I will say I am happy to part with all of it to get myself out from the clutches of these jackals. Ours will be a private arrangement of affairs, and I shall see to it that the secret is kept to my dying days, if only you will help me now.”
Perhaps it was the pitiful state of things which earned Bailey’s sympathy in this matter, for it was certainly not the promise of a generous settlement which moved him to act on behalf of his host. The humble