CHAPTER XIX
WHAT TOOK PLACE AT "THE PIG AND WHISTLE"
It was a night without a moon. Great gray cloud-banks swamped the sky,and there was a heavy mist that blurred the outline of tree and fence andmade the broad, flat stretches of the marshes into one impenetrable blotof inky darkness.
Two men, in ill-fitting corduroys and soiled blue jerseys, their swarthynecks girt about by vivid handkerchiefs, and their big-peaked caps pulledwell down over their eyes, made their way along the narrow lane that ledfrom Merriton Towers to Saltfleet Bay. At the junction with SaltfleetRoad, two other figures slipped by them in the half-mist, and afterpeering at then from under the screen of dark caps, sang out a husky"Good-night, mates." They answered in unison, the bigger, broader onewhistling as he swung along, his pace slackening a trifle so that the twonewcomers might pass him and get on into the shadows ahead.
Once they had done so, he ceased his endless, ear-piercing whistle andturned to his companion, his hand reaching out suddenly and catching thesleeve nearest him.
"That was Borkins!" he said in a muttered undertone, as the two figuresin front swung away into the shadows. "Did you see his face, lad?"
"I did," responded Dollops, with asperity. "And a fine specimen of a faceit were, too! If I were born wiv that tacked on to me anatomy, I'd drownmeself in the nearest pond afore I'd 'ave courage to survive it.... Yus,it was Borkins all right, Guv'nor, and the other chap wiv him, the onewiv the black whiskers and the lanting jor--"
"Hush, boy! Not so loud!" Cleek's voice cut into the whispered undertone,a mere thread of sound, but a sound to be obeyed. "I recognized him,too," interrupted Cleek. "My friend of the midnight visit, and theplugged pillow. I'm not likely to forget that face in a day's march,I can promise you. And with Borkins! Well, that was to be expected, ofcourse. The next thing to consider is--what the devil has a common sailoror factory-hand to do with a chap like Dacre Wynne? Or Merriton, for thatmatter. I never heard him say he'd any interest in factories of any kind,and I dare swear he hasn't. And yet, what's this dark stranger--as thefortune-tellers say--doing, poking his nose into the affair, and tryingto murder me, just because I happen to be down here to investigate thequestion of the Frozen Flames?... Bit of a problem, eh, Dollops? FrozenFlames, Country Squires, Dark Strangers who are sailormen, and a butlerwho has been years in the family service; there you have the ingredientsfor quite a nice little mix-up. Now, I wonder where those two are boundfor?"
"'Pig and Whistle'," conjectured Dollops. "Leastways, tha's where oldBlack Whiskers is a-makin' for. Got friend Borkins in tow as wellternight, so things ought ter be gittin' interestin'. Gawd! sir,if you don't looka fair cut-throat I an't ever seen one.
"Makes me blood run cold jist ter squint at yer, it does! That theremoustache 'ud git yer a fortin' on the stage, I swear. Mr. Narkom'd faintif 'e saw yer, an' I'm not so certing I wouldn't do a bunk meself, ifI met yer in a dark lane, so to speak. 'Ow yer does the expression fairbeats me."
Cleek laughed good-humouredly. The something theatrical in his make-upwas gratified by the admiration of his audience. He linked his armthrough the boy's.
"Birthright, Dollops, birthright!" he made answer, speaking in aleisurely tone. "Every man has one, you know. There is the birthrightof princes--" he sighed. "Your birthright is a willing soul and anunwavering loyalty. Mine? A mere play of feature that can transform mefrom one man into another. A poor thing at best, Dollops, but.... Hello!Lights ahead! What is it, my pocket guide-book?"
"'Pig and Whistle'," grunted Dollops in a husky voice, glad of an excuseto hide his pleasure at Cleek's appreciation of his character.
"H'm. That's good. The fun commences. Don't forget your part, boy. We'resailoring men back from a cruise to Jamaica and pretty near penniless.Lost our jobs, and looking for others. Told there was a factory somewherein this part of the world that had to do with shipping, and have walkeddown from London. Took six days, mind; don't forget that. And a devilishlong walk, too, I reckon! But that's by the way. Your name's Sam--SamRobinson. Mine--Bill Jones.... Our friends are ahead of us. Come along."
Whistling, they swung up to the brightly lit little public-house, setthere upon the edge of the bay. Here and there over the unruffled surfaceof the waters to the left of them, a light pricked out, glowing againstthe gloom. Black against the mouth of the harbour, as though etched upona smoky background, a steamer swayed uneasily with the swell of the waterat her keel, her nose touching the pier-head, a chain of lights outliningher cumbersome hulk. Men's voices made the night noisy, and numerous feetscuttled to and fro over the cobbles of the dockyard to where a handfulof fishing boats were drawn up, only their masts showing above thelanding, with here and there a ghostly wraith of sail.
Cleek paused a moment, drinking in the scene with his love of beauty, andthen assumed his role of the evening. And how well he could play any rolehe chose!
He cleared his throat, and addressed his companion in broad cockney.
"Gawd's truf, Sammie!" he said. "If this fair don't look like a bit of'ome. Ain't spotted the briny for a dog's age. Let's 'ave a drink."
Someone turned at his raucous voice and looked back over the curve of ahuge shoulder. Then he went to the doorway of the little pub, and raiseda hand, with two fingers extended. Obviously it was some sort of sign,for in an instant the noise of voices dropped, and Cleek and Dollopsslouched in and up to the crowded bar. Men made room for them on eitherside, as they pushed their way in, eyeing them at first with somesuspicion, then, as they saw the familiar garments, calling out somehoarse jest or greeting in their own lingo, to which Cleek cheerfullyresponded.
A little to the right of them stood Borkins, his cap still pulled lowover his eyes, and a shabby overcoat buttoned to the neck. Cleek glancedat him out of the tail of his eye, and then, at sight of his companion,his mouth tightened. He'd give something to measure _that_ cur muscle formuscle, strength for strength! The sort to steal into a man's room atnight and try to murder him! The detective planted an arm--brown andbrawny and with a tattooed serpent winding its way round the strong wristto the elbow (oh, wonderful make-up box!)--on the edge of the marble bar,and called loudly for a drink. His very voice was raw and husky with atang of the sea in it. Dollops's nasal twang took up the story, while thebarmaid--a red-headed, fat woman with a coarse, hard face, who wascontinually smiling--looked them up and down, and having taken stock ofthem set two pewter tankards of frothing ale before them, took the moneyfrom Cleek, bit it, and then with a nod dropped it into the till and cameback for a chat.
"Strangers, ain't you?" she said, pleasantly, leaning on the bar andgrinning at them.
"Yus." Cleek's voice was sharp, emphatic.
"Thought so. Sea-faring, I take it?"
"Yus," said Cleek again, and gulped down the rest of his ale, pushing thetankard toward her and nodding at it significantly.
She sniffed, and then laughed.
"Want another, eh? Ain't wastin' many words, are yer, matey? 'Oo's thelittle 'un?"
"Meaning me?" said Dollops, bridling. "None of yer blarney 'ere, miss! Mean' my mate's been on a walkin' tooer--come up from Lunnon, we 'ave."
"You never did!"
Admiration mingled with disbelief in the barmaid's voice. A little stirof interest went round the crowded, smoky room and someone called out:
"Lunnon, 'ave yer? Bin walkin' a bit, matey. Wot brought yer dahn 'ere?An' what're sailor men doin' in Lunnon, any'ow?"
"Wot most folks is doin' nowadays--lookin for a job!" replied Cleek, ashe gulped down the second tankard and pushed it forward again to bereplenished. "Come from Southampton, we 'ave. Got a parss up to Lunnon,'cause a pal told us there'd be work at the factories. But there weren'tno work. Gawd's truf! What're sailormen wantin' wi' clorth-makin' and'ammering' tin-pots? Them's the only jobs we wuz offered in Lunnon. Idon't give a curse for the plyce.... No, Sammy an' me we says to eachother"--he took another drink and wiped his mouth with the back of hishand--"we says this ain't no plyce for us. We'd just come
over frumJamaica--"
"Go on! Travellin' in furrin parts was you!" this in admiration from thebarmaid.
"--and we ain't seein' oursel's turning inter land-lubbers in nosich spot as that. Pal told us there was a 'arbour down 'ere abahts,wiv a factory wot a sailorman might git work at an' still 'old 'isself-respec'. So we walked 'ere."
"Wot energy!"
Black Whiskers--as Dollops had called him--broke in at this juncture, histhin mouth opening in a grin that showed two rows of blackened teeth.
Cleek twitched round sharply in his direction.
"Yus--wasn't it? An', funny enough, we've plenty more energy tercome!... But what the 'ell is this factory work 'ere, any'ow? An' anychawnce of a couple of men gittin' a bit er work to keep the blinkin'wolf from the door? Who'll tell us?"
A slight silence followed this, a silence in which man looked at man, andthen back again at the ginger-headed lady behind the bar. She raised hereyebrows and nodded, and then went off into little giggles that shook herplump figure.
A big man at Cleek's left gave him the answer.
"Factory makes electric fittin's an' such-like, an' ships 'em abroad," hesaid, tersely. "Happen you don't unnerstan' the business? Happen themarster won't want you. Happen you'll 'ave ter move on, I'm a-thinkin'."
"Happen I won't!" retorted Cleek, with a loud guffaw.
"S'welp me, you chaps, ain't none uv you a-goin' ter lend a 'and to amate wot's out uv a job? What's the blooming mystery? An' where's thebloomin' boss?"
"Better see 'im in the mawning," supplemented Black Whiskers,truculently. "He's busy now. Works all night sometimes, 'e does. Butthere's a vacancy or two, I know, for factory 'ands. Bin a bit ofriotin' an' splittin' uv state secrets. But the fellers wot did it aregorn now"--he laughed a trifle grimly--"won't never come troublin' 'ereagain. Pretty strict, marster is. But good work and good pay."
"And yer carnt arsk fer more, that's wot I ses!" threw in Dollops in hisshrill voice.
Now Cleek, all this time, had been edging more and more in the directionof Borkins and his sinister companion who were standing a little apart,but nevertheless were interested spectators of all that went on.
Having at last obtained his object, he cast about for a subject ofconversation and picked the barmaid whose rallies met with the approvalof the entire company, and who was at that moment carrying on a spiritedgive-and-take conversation with the redoubtable Dollops.
"Bit of a sport, ain't she, guv'nor?" Cleek remarked to Borkins, with ajerk of his head in the woman's direction. The butler whirled round andfixed him with a stare of haughty indignation.
"Here, you keep your fingers off your betters!" he retorted angrily, forCleek had dug a friendly elbow into his ribs.
"Oh, orl right! No offence meant! Thought perhaps _you_ wuz the boss, bythe look of yer. But doubtless you ain't nuffink ter do wiv the factoryat all. Private gent, I take it."
"Then you take it wrong!" retorted Borkins, sharply. "And I _have_something ter do with the factory, if you wants ter know. Like ter showyour good manners, I might be able to get you a job--an' one for thelittle 'un as well, though I don't care for Londoners as a rule. There'sanother of 'em up at the place where I lives. I'm 'ead butler to SirNigel Merriton of Merriton Towers, if you're anxious to know who _I_ am."His chest swelled visibly. "In private I dabbles a little in--otherthings. And I've influence. You men can keep your mouths shut?"
"Dumb as a blinkin' dorg!" threw in Dollops, who was close by Cleek'sside, and both men nodded vigorously.
"Well, then, I'll see what I can do. Mind you, I don't promise nothink.I'll think it hover. Better come to me to-morrow. Make it in the eveningfor there's a h'inquest up at the Towers. My master's been copped formurderin' his friend, and I'll 'ave to be about, then. Ow'll to-morrowevening suit?"
Cleek drew a long breath and put out his hand. Then, as if recalling thesuperior station of the man he addressed, withdrew it again and remarked:"You're a real gent, you are! Any one'd know you was wot they callswell-connected. Ter-morrow it is, then. We'll be 'ere and grateful foryer 'elp.... Wot's this abaht a murder? Fight was it? I'm 'appy at thatsort of thing myself."
He squared up a moment and made a mock of boxing Dollops which seemed toplease the audience.
"That's the stuff, that's the stuff, matey!" called out a raw-boned manwho up to the present had remained silent. "You're the man for us, I ses!An' the little 'un, too."
"Reckon I can give you a taste of fightin' that'll please you,"remarked Borkins in a low voice. "Yes, Mainer's right. You're the manfor us.... Good-night, all. Time's up. I'm off."
"Good-night," chorused a score of voices, while the fat barmaid blew akiss off the tips of her stubby fingers, and called out after him: "Comeagain soon, dearie."
Cleek looked at Dollops, and both realized the importance of getting backto the Towers before the arrival of Borkins, in case that worthy shouldthink (as was far from unlikely) of spying on their movements, andchecking up on Cleek's progress in letter writing. It was going torequire some quick work.
"Well, Sammy, better be movin' back to our shelterin' roof an' all thecomforts of 'ome," began Cleek almost at once, and gulping down the lastof his fourth tankard and slouching over to the doorway. A chorus ofvoices stopped him.
"Where you sleepin'?"
"Under the 'aystack about 'arf a mile from 'ere," replied Cleek gliblyand at a venture.
The barmaid's brows knitted into a frown.
"'Aystack?" she repeated. "There ain't no 'aystack along this road from'ere to Fetchworth. Bit orf the track, ain't yer?"
Cleek retrieved himself at once.
"Ain't there? Well, wot if there ain't? The place wot I calls a'aystack--an' wot Lunnoners calls a 'aystack too--is the nearest bit ofshelter wot comes your way. Manner of speakin', that's all."
"Oh! Then I reckon you means the barn about a quarter of a mile up theroad toward the village?" The barmaid smiled again.
"That's it. Good-night."
"Good night," chorused the hoarse voices.
The night outside was as black as a pocket.
"Better cut along by the fields, Dollops," whispered Cleek as they tookto their heels up the rough road. "Got to pass him. This mist will helpus. That was a near shave about the haystack. I nearly tripped us upthere. Awful creature, that woman!"
"Looks like a jelly-fish come loose," threw in Dollops with a snort."There's ole Borkins, sir, straight ahead. 'Ere--in through this gap inthis 'edge and then across the field by the side of 'im.... Weren't such arough night after all, was it, sir?"
Cleek sighed. One might almost have thought that he regretted the fact.
"No, Dollops," he said, softly, "it was the calmest night of its kindI've ever experienced. But we've gleaned something from it. But what thedevil has Borkins got to _do_ with this factory? What ever it is he'sin it right up to the neck, and we'll have to dig around him prettycarefully. You'll help me, Dollops, won't you? Can't do without you, youknow."
"Orlways, sir--orlways," breathed Dollops, in a husky whisper. "Where yougoes, I'm a-hikin' along by yer side. You ain't ever going ter get rid ofme."
"Good lad!" and they redoubled their pace.