I flatter myself that I am a man who is not easily disconcerted, but for the second time that day I was completely taken aback. I had watched that cab so closely, had followed its progress so carefully, that it seemed impossible Hayle could have escaped from it. Yet there was the fact, apparent to all the world, that he had got away. I looked from the cab to the cabman and then at my own driver, who had descended from his perch and was standing beside me.
“Well, I wouldn’t have believed it,” I said aloud, when I had recovered somewhat my astonishment.
My own driver, who had doubtless begun to think that the sovereign I had promised him was in danger, was inclined to be somewhat bellicose. It appeared as if he were anxious to make a personal matter of it, and in proof of this he sternly demanded of his rival what he had done with his fare.
“You don’t think I’ve ate him, do yer?” asked that worthy. “What’s it got to do with me what a fare does? I set ’im down, same as I should do you, and now I am on my way ‘ome. Look arter your own fare, and take him ‘ome and put him ter bed, but don’t yer a’come abotherin’ me. I’ve done the best day’s work I’ve ever ‘ad in my life, and if so be the pair of yer like to come into the pub here, well, I don’t know as I won’t a stand yer both a two of Scotch cold. It looks as if ’twould kind a’ cheer the guvner up a bit, seem’ as how he’s dis’pointed like. Come on now!”
It is one of my best principles, and to it I feel that I owe a considerable portion of my success, that I never allow my pride to stand in the way of my business. The most valuable information is not unfrequently picked up in the most unlikely places, and for this reason I followed my own Jehu and his rival into the public-house in question. The man was visibly elated by the good stroke of business he had done that night, and was inclined to be convivial.
“ ’e was a proper sort of bloke,” he said as we partook of our refreshment. “ ’e give me a fiver, ’e did, an’ I wishes as ‘ow I could meet another like ’im every day.”
“They do say as how one man’s mutton is another man’s poison,” retorted my driver, who, in spite of the entertainment he was receiving, visibly regarded the other with disfavour. “If you’d a give us the tip, I’d ‘ave ‘ad my suvering. As it is I don’t take it friendly like that you should a’ bilked us.”
“Yer can take it as yer darned well please,” said the other, as he spoke placing his glass upside down on the counter, in order to prove beyond contradiction that it was empty. I immediately ordered a repetition, which was supplied. Thereupon the cabman continued —
“When I ‘as a bit of business ter do yer must understand that I does it, and that no man can say as I doesn’t. A gent gets into my keb and sez he, ‘Drive me until I tell yer to stop, and go as fast as yer can,’ sez he. ‘Take every back street yer know of, and come out somewhere Hoxton way. I’m not partic’lar so long as I go fast, an’ I don’t git collared by the keb that’s after us. If yer help me to give ’im the slip there’s a five-poun’ note for yer trouble.’ Well, sez I to myself, this is a proper bit of busness and there and then I sets off as fast as the old ‘orse cud take us. We turns up Southampton Street, and you turns up after us. As we was agoin’ down ‘enrietta Street I asked him to let me ‘ave a look at his five-poun’ note, for I didn’t want no Bank of Fashion or any of that sort of truck shoved into me, you’ll understand. ‘You needn’t be suspicious, Cabby,’ sez he, ‘I’ll make it suverings, if you like, and half a one over for luck, if that will satisfy yer? ‘When I told him it would, he give me two poun’ ten in advance and away we went again. We weren’t more than ‘arf a mile away from here — thank ye, sir, I don’t mind if I do, it’s cold drivin’— well, as I was a sayin’ we wasn’t more than ‘arf a mile away from here, when the gent he stands up and sez to me, ‘Look here, Kebby, turn the next corner pretty sharp, and slow down at the first bye-street you come to. Then I’ll jump out,’ ‘Right yer are, guvner,’ sez I, and with that he ‘ands me up the other two poun’ ten and the extry half-suvering. I fobbed it and whipped up the old ‘oss. Next moment we was around the corner, and a-drivin’ as if we was a trying to ketch a train. Then we comes to a little side street, an’ I slows down. Out ’e jumps and down he goes along a side street as if the devil was arter him. Then I drives on my way and pulls up ’ere. Bilked you were, guvner, and I don’t mind sayin’ so, but busness is busness, and five poun’ ten ain’t to be picked up every day. I guess the old woman will be all there when I get ‘ome to-night.”
“That’s all very well, cabby,” I said, “but it’s just likely you want to add another sovereign to that five-pound ten. If you do I don’t mind putting another in your way. I tell you that I want to catch the man I was after to-night. He’s as big a thief as ever walked the earth, and if you will help me to put my hand upon him, you’ll be doing a service, not only to me, but to the whole country at large.”
“What is it you want me to do?” he asked suspiciously. “He treated me fair, and he’ll take it mean of me if I help you to nab him.”
“I don’t want you to do anything but to drive me to the side street where you put him down. Then you can take your sovereign and be off home as quick as you like. Do you agree?”
He hesitated for a space in which a man could have counted twenty, and then set his glass upon the counter.
“I’ll do it,” he said. “I’ll drive yer there, not for the suvering, but for the good of the country yer speaks about. Come on.”
I gave my own man his money, and then followed the other out to his cab. He mounted to his box, not without some help, and we presently set off. Whether it was the effect of the refreshment he had imbibed, or whether it was mere elation of spirits I cannot say, the fact, however, remains that for the whole of the journey, which occupied ten or twelve minutes he howled vociferously. A more joyous cabman could scarcely have been discovered in all that part of London. At last he pulled his horse to a standstill, and descended from his seat.
“This ’ere’s the place,” he said, “and that’s the street he bolted down. Yer can’t mistake it. Now let’s have a look at yer suvering, guvner, and then I’ll be off home to bed, and it’s about time too.”
I paid him the sum I had promised him, and then made my way down the narrow street, in the direction Hayle had taken. It was not more than a couple of hundred yards long, and was hemmed in on either hand by squalid cottages. As if to emphasize the misery of the locality, and perhaps in a measure to account for it, at the further end I discovered a gin-palace, whose flaring lights illuminated the streets on either hand with brazen splendour. A small knot of loafers were clustered on the pavement outside the public, and these were exactly the men I wanted. Addressing myself to them I inquired how long they had been in their present position.
“Best part of an hour, guv’ner,” said one of them, pushing his hands deep down into his pockets, and executing a sort of double shuffle as he spoke. “Ain’t doin’ any harm ’ere, I ‘ope. We was ‘opin’ as ‘ow a gent like yourself would come along in the course of the evening just to ask us if we was thirsty, and wot we’d take for to squench it.”
“You shall have something to squench it, if you can answer the questions I am going to ask you,” I replied. “Did either of you see a gentleman come down this street, running, about half-an-hour or so ago.”
“Was he carrying a rug and a bag?” asked one of the men without hesitation.
“He was,” I replied. “He is the man I want. Which way did he go when he left here?”
“He took Jim Boulter’s cab,” said another man, who had until a few moments before been leaning against the wall. “The Short ‘Un was alookin’ after it for ’im, and I heard him call Jimmy myself. He tossed the Short ‘Un a bob, he did, when he got in. Such luck don’t seem ever to come my way.”
“Where is the Short ‘Un, as you call him?” I inquired, thinking that it might be to my advantage to interview that gentleman.
“A-drinkin’ of his bob in there,” the man answered. “Where d’ye think ye’d be a-seein’ ’im? Bearin’ ‘isself proud like a real torf, and at closen’ time they’ll be chuckin’ ’im out into the gutter, and then ‘is wife’ll come down, and they’ll fight, an’ most like both of ’em’ll get jugged before they knows where they is, and come before the beak in the mornin’.”
“Look here,” I said, “if one of you will go in and induce the gentleman of whom you speak to come out here and talk to me, I would not mind treating the four of you to half-a-crown.”
The words had scarcely left my lips before a deputation had entered the house in search of the gentleman in question. When they returned with him one glance was sufficient to show me that the Short ‘Un was in a decidedly inebriated condition. His friends, however, deeming it possible that their chance of appreciating my liberality depended upon his condition being such as he could answer questions with some sort of intelligence, proceeded to shake and pummel him into something approaching sobriety. In one of his lucid intervals I inquired whether he felt equal to telling me in what direction the gentleman who had given him the shilling had ordered the cabman to drive him. He turned the question over and over in his mind, and then arrived at the conclusion that it was “some hotel close to Waterloo.”
This was certainly vague, but it encouraged me to persevere.
“Think again,” I said; “he must have given you some definite address.”
“Now I do remember,” said the man, “it seems to me it was Foxwell’s Hotel, Waterloo Road. That’s where it was, Foxwell’s Hotel. Don’t you know it?
“Foxwell’s Hotel is a merry, merry place,
When the jolly booze is flowin’, flowin’ free.”
Now chorus, gen’men.”
Having heard all I wanted to, I gave the poor wretches what I had promised them, and went in search of a cab. As good luck would have it I was able to discover one in the City Road, and in it I drove off in the direction of Waterloo. If Hayle were really going to stay the night at Foxwell’s Hotel, then my labours had not been in vain, after all. But I had seen too much of that gentleman’s character of late to put any trust in his statements, until I had verified them to my own satisfaction. I was not acquainted with Foxwell’s Hotel, but after some little search I discovered it. It was by no means the sort of place a man of Hayle’s wealth would be likely to patronize, but remembering that he had particular reasons for not being en evidence just at present, I could understand his reasons for choosing such a hostelry. I accordingly paid off my cabman and entered the bar. Taking the young lady I found there a little on one side, I inquired whether a gentleman had arrived w............