The Middle Temple Murder J. S. Fletcher (the reading strategies book .txt) đ
- Author: J. S. Fletcher
Book online «The Middle Temple Murder J. S. Fletcher (the reading strategies book .txt) đ». Author J. S. Fletcher
âYouâre such a cocksure chap, Spargo,â said Breton. âYouâre always going on a straight line.â
âTrying to, you mean,â retorted Spargo. âWell, stop here, and hear what this chap has to say: itâll no doubt be amusing.â
The messenger boy, deeply conscious that he was ushering into Spargoâs room an individual who might shortly carry away a thousand pounds of good Watchman money in his pocket, opened the door and introduced a shy and self-conscious young man, whose nervousness was painfully apparent to everybody and deeply felt by himself. He halted on the threshold, looking round the comfortably-furnished room, and at the two well-dressed young men which it framed as if he feared to enter on a scene of such grandeur.
âCome in, come in!â said Spargo, rising and pointing to an easy-chair at the side of his desk. âTake a seat. Youâve called about that reward, of course.â
The man in the chair eyed the two of them cautiously, and not without suspicion. He cleared his throat with a palpable effort.
âOf course,â he said. âItâs all on the strict private. Name of Edward Mollison, sir.â
âAnd where do you live, and what do you do?â asked Spargo.
âYou might put it down Rowton House, Whitechapel,â answered Edward Mollison. âLeastways, thatâs where I generally hang out when I can afford it. Andâ âwindow-cleaner. Leastways, I was window cleaning whenâ âwhenâ ââ
âWhen you came in contact with the stick weâve been advertising about,â suggested Spargo. âJust so. Well, Mollisonâ âwhat about the stick?â
Mollison looked round at the door, and then at the windows, and then at Breton.
âThere ainât no danger of me being got into trouble along of that stick?â he asked. âââCause if there is, I ainât a-going to say a wordâ âno, not for no thousand pounds! Me never having been in no trouble of any sort, guvânorâ âthough a poor man.â
âNot the slightest danger in the world, Mollison,â replied Spargo. âNot the least. All youâve got to do is to tell the truthâ âand prove that it is the truth. So it was you who took that queer-looking stick out of Mr. Aylmoreâs rooms in Fountain Court, was it?â
Mollison appeared to find this direct question soothing to his feelings. He smiled weakly.
âIt was certânly me as took it, sir,â he said. âNot that I meant to pinch itâ ânot me! And, as you might say, I didnât take it, when allâs said and done. It wasâ âput on me.â
âPut on you, was it?â said Spargo. âThatâs interesting. And how was it put on you?â
Mollison grinned again and rubbed his chin.
âIt was this here way,â he answered. âYou see, I was working at that timeâ ânear on to nine months since, it isâ âfor the Universal Daylight Window Cleaning Company, and I used to clean a many windows here and there in the Temple, and them windows at Mr. Aylmoreâsâ âonly I knew them as Mr. Andersonâsâ âamong âem. And I was there one morning, early it was, when the charwoman she says to me, âI wish youâd take these two or three hearthrugs,â she says, âand give âem a good beating,â she says. And me being always a ready one to oblige, âAll right!â I says, and takes âem. âHereâs something to wallop âem with,â she says, and pulls that there old stick out of a lot that was in a stand in a corner of the lobby. And thatâs how I came to handle it, sir.â
âI see,â said Spargo. âA good explanation. And when you had beaten the hearthrugsâ âwhat then?â
Mollison smiled his weak smile again.
âWell, sir, I looked at that there stick and I see it was something uncommon,â he answered. âAnd I thinksâ ââWell, this Mr. Anderson, heâs got a bundle of sticks and walking canes up thereâ âheâll never miss this old thing,â I thinks. And so I left it in a corner when Iâd done beating the rugs, and when I went away with my things I took it with me.â
âYou took it with you?â said Spargo. âJust so. To keep as a curiosity, I suppose?â
Mollisonâs weak smile turned to one of cunning. He was obviously losing his nervousness; the sound of his own voice and the reception of his news was imparting confidence to him.
âNot half!â he answered. âYou see, guvânor, there was an old cove as I knew in the Temple there as is, or was, âcause I ainât been there since, a collector of antikities, like, and Iâd sold him a queer old thing, time and again. And, of course, I had him in my eye when I took the stick awayâ âsee?â
âI see. And you took the stick to him?â
âI took it there and then,â replied Mollison. âPitched him a tale, I did, about it having been brought from foreign parts by Uncle Simonâ âwhich I never had no Uncle Simon. Made out it was a rare curiosityâ âwhich it might haâ been one, for all I know.â
âExactly. And the old cove took a fancy to it, eh?â
âBought it there and then,â answered Mollison, with something very like a wink.
âAh! Bought it there and then. And how much did he give you for it?â asked Spargo. âSomething handsome, I hope?â
âCouple oâ quid,â replied Mollison. âMe not wishing to part with a family heirloom for less.â
âJust so. And do you happen to be able to tell me the old coveâs name and his address, Mollison?â asked Spargo.
âI do, sir. Which theyâve painted on his entryâ âthe fifth or sixth as you go down Middle Temple Lane,â answered Mollison. âMr. Nicholas Cardlestone, first floor up the staircase.â
Spargo rose from his seat without as much as a look at Breton.
âCome this way, Mollison,â he said. âWeâll go and see about your little reward. Excuse me, Breton.â
Breton kicked his heels in solitude for half an hour. Then Spargo came back.
âThereâ âthatâs one matter settled, Breton,â he said. âNow for the next. The Home Secretaryâs made the order for the opening of the grave at Market Milcaster. Iâm going down
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