The Middle Temple Murder Page 24

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  MOTHER GUTCH

  Spargo, having exhausted the list of questions which he had thought outon his way to Bayswater, was about to take his leave of Miss Baylis,when a new idea suddenly occurred to him, and he turned back to thatformidable lady.

  "I've just thought of something else," he said. "I told you that I'mcertain Marbury was Maitland, and that he came to a sad end--murdered."

  "And I've told you," she replied scornfully, "that in my opinion no endcould be too bad for him."

  "Just so--I understand you," said Spargo. "But I didn't tell you thathe was not only murdered but robbed--robbed of probably a good deal.There's good reason to believe that he had securities, bank notes,loose diamonds, and other things on him to the value of a large amount.He'd several thousand pounds when he left Coolumbidgee, in New SouthWales, where he'd lived quietly for some years."

  Miss Baylis smiled sourly.

  "What's all this to me?" she asked.

  "Possibly nothing. But you see, that money, those securities, may berecovered. And as the boy you speak of is dead, there surely must besomebody who's entitled to the lot. It's worth having, Miss Baylis, andthere's strong belief on the part of the police that it will turn up."

  This was a bit of ingenious bluff on the part of Spargo; he watched itseffect with keen eyes. But Miss Baylis was adamant, and she looked asscornful as ever.

  "I say again what's all that to me?" she exclaimed.

  "Well, but hadn't the dead boy any relatives on his father's side?"asked Spargo. "I know you're his aunt on the mother's side, and asyou're indifferent perhaps, I can find some on the other side. It'svery easy to find all these things out, you know."

  Miss Baylis, who had begun to stalk back to the house in gloomy andmajestic fashion, and had let Spargo see plainly that this part of theinterview was distasteful to her, suddenly paused in her stride andglared at the young journalist.

  "Easy to find all these things out?" she repeated.

  Spargo caught, or fancied he caught, a note of anxiety in her tone. Hewas quick to turn his fancy to practical purpose.

  "Oh, easy enough!" he said. "I could find out all about Maitland'sfamily through that boy. Quite, quite easily!"

  Miss Baylis had stopped now, and stood glaring at him. "How?" shedemanded.

  "I'll tell you," said Spargo with cheerful alacrity. "It is, of course,the easiest thing in the world to trace all about his short life. Isuppose I can find the register of his birth at Market Milcaster, andyou, of course, will tell me where he died. By the by, when did he die,Miss Baylis?"

  But Miss Baylis was going on again to the house.

  "I shall tell you nothing more," she said angrily. "I've told you toomuch already, and I believe all you're here for is to get some news foryour paper. But I will, at any rate tell you this--when Maitland wentto prison his child would have been defenceless but for me; he'd havehad to go to the workhouse but for me; he hadn't a single relation inthe world but me, on either father's or mother's side. And even at myage, old woman as I am, I'd rather beg my bread in the street, I'drather starve and die, than touch a penny piece that had come from JohnMaitland! That's all."

  Then without further word, without offering to show Spargo the way out,she marched in at the open window and disappeared. And Spargo, knowingno other way, was about to follow her when he heard a sudden rustlingsound in the shadow by which they had stood, and the next moment aqueer, cracked, horrible voice, suggesting all sorts of things, saiddistinctly and yet in a whisper:

  "Young man!"

  Spargo turned and stared at the privet hedge behind him. It was thickand bushy, and in its full summer green, but it seemed to him that hesaw a nondescript shape behind. "Who's there?" he demanded. "Somebodylistening?"

  There was a curious cackle of laughter from behind the hedge; then thecracked, husky voice spoke again.

  "Young man, don't you move or look as if you were talking to anybody.Do you know where the 'King of Madagascar' public-house is in thisquarter of the town, young man?"

  "No!" answered Spargo. "Certainly not!"

  "Well, anybody'll tell you when you get outside, young man," continuedthe queer voice of the unseen person. "Go there, and wait at the cornerby the 'King of Madagascar,' and I'll come there to you at the end ofhalf an hour. Then I'll tell you something, young man--I'll tell yousomething. Now run away, young man, run away to the 'King ofMadagascar'--I'm coming!"

  The voice ended in low, horrible cachinnation which made Spargo feelqueer. But he was young enough to be in love with adventure, and heimmediately turned on his heel without so much as a glance at theprivet hedge, and went across the garden and through the house, and lethimself out at the door. And at the next corner of the square he met apoliceman and asked him if he knew where the "King of Madagascar" was.

  "First to the right, second to the left," answered the policemantersely. "You can't miss it anywhere round there--it's a landmark."

  And Spargo found the landmark--a great, square-built tavern--easily,and he waited at a corner of it wondering what he was going to see, andintensely curious about the owner of the queer voice, with all itssuggestions of he knew not what. And suddenly there came up to him anold woman and leered at him in a fashion that made him suddenly realizehow dreadful old age may be.

  Spargo had never seen such an old woman as this in his life. She wasdressed respectably, better than respectably. Her gown was good; herbonnet was smart; her smaller fittings were good. But her face wasevil; it showed unmistakable signs of a long devotion to the bottle;the old eyes leered and ogled, the old lips were wicked. Spargo felt asense of disgust almost amounting to nausea, but he was going to hearwhat the old harridan had to say and he tried not to look what he felt.

  "Well?" he said, almost roughly. "Well?"

  "Well, young man, there you are," said his new acquaintance. "Let us goinside, young man; there's a quiet little place where a lady can sitand take her drop of gin--I'll show you. And if you're good to me, I'lltell you something about that cat that you were talking to just now.But you'll give me a little matter to put in my pocket, young man? Oldladies like me have a right to buy little comforts, you know, littlecomforts."

  Spargo followed this extraordinary person into a small parlour within;the attendant who came in response to a ring showed no astonishment ather presence; he also seemed to know exactly what she required, whichwas a certain brand of gin, sweetened, and warm. And Spargo watched hercuriously as with shaking hand she pushed up the veil which hid littleof her wicked old face, and lifted the glass to her mouth with a zestwhich was not thirst but pure greed of liquor. Almost instantly he sawa new light steal into her eyes, and she laughed in a voice that grewclearer with every sound she made.

  "Ah, young man!" she said with a confidential nudge of the elbow thatmade Spargo long to get up and fly. "I wanted that! It's done me good.When I've finished that, you'll pay for another for me--and perhapsanother? They'll do me still more good. And you'll give me a littlematter of money, won't you, young man?"

  "Not till I know what I'm giving it for," replied Spargo.

  "You'll be giving it because I'm going to tell you that if it's madeworth my while I can tell you, or somebody that sent you, more aboutJane Baylis than anybody in the world. I'm not going to tell you thatnow, young man--I'm sure you don't carry in your pocket what I shallwant for my secret, not you, by the look of you! I'm only going to showyou that I have the secret. Eh?"

  "Who are you?" asked Spargo.

  The woman leered and chuckled. "What are you going to give me, youngman?" she asked.

  Spargo put his fingers in his pocket and pulled out twohalf-sovereigns.

  "Look here," he said, showing his companion the coins, "if you can tellme anything of importance you shall have these. But no trifling, now.And no wasting of time. If you have anything to tell, out with it!"

  The woman stretched out a trembling, claw-like hand.

  "But let me hold one of those, young man!"
she implored. "Let me holdone of the beautiful bits of gold. I shall tell you all the better if Ihold one of them. Let me--there's a good young gentleman."

  Spargo gave her one of the coins, and resigned himself to his fate,whatever it might be.

  "You won't get the other unless you tell something," he said. "Who areyou, anyway?"

  The woman, who had begun mumbling and chuckling over thehalf-sovereign, grinned horribly.

  "At the boarding-house yonder, young man, they call me Mother Gutch,"she answered; "but my proper name is Mrs. Sabina Gutch, and once upon atime I was a good-looking young woman. And when my husband died I wentto Jane Baylis as housekeeper, and when she retired from that and cameto live in that boarding-house where we live now, she was forced tobring me with her and to keep me. Why had she to do that, young man?"

  "Heaven knows!" answered Spargo.

  "Because I've got a hold on her, young man--I've got a secret of hers,"continued Mother Gutch. "She'd be scared to death if she knew I'd beenbehind that hedge and had heard what she said to you, and she'd be morethan scared if she knew that you and I were here, talking. But she'sgrown hard and near with me, and she won't give me a penny to get adrop of anything with, and an old woman like me has a right to herlittle comforts, and if you'll buy the secret, young man, I'll split onher, there and then, when you pay the money."

  "Before I talk about buying any secret," said Spargo, "you'll have toprove to me that you've a secret to sell that's worth my buying."

  "And I will prove it!" said Mother Gutch with sudden fierceness. "Touchthe bell, and let me have another glass, and then I'll tell you. Now,"she went on, more quietly--Spargo noticed that the more she drank, themore rational she became, and that her nerves seemed to gain strengthand her whole appearance to be improved--"now, you came to her to findout about her brother-in-law, Maitland, that went to prison, didn'tyou?"

  "Well?" demanded Spargo.

  "And about that boy of his?" she continued.

  "You heard all that was said," answered Spargo. "I'm waiting to hearwhat you have to say."

  But Mother Gutch was resolute in having her own way. She continued herquestions:

  "And she told you that Maitland came and asked for the boy, and thatshe told him the boy was dead, didn't she?" she went on.

  "Well?" said Spargo despairingly. "She did. What then?"

  Mother Gutch took an appreciative pull at her glass and smiledknowingly. "What then?" she chuckled. "All lies, young man, the boyisn't dead--any more than I am. And my secret is--"

  "Well?" demanded Spargo impatiently. "What is it?"

  "This!" answered Mother Gutch, digging her companion in the ribs, "Iknow what she did with him!"