Chapter 41: The Constable, —His Clue, —and the Cab

Miss Coleman, getting up in a fluster, went hurrying to the door.

‘I won’t have that young man in my house. I won’t have him! Don’t let him dare to put his nose across my doorstep.’

I endeavoured to appease her perturbation.

‘I promise you that he shall not come in, Miss Coleman. My friend here, and I, will go and speak to him outside.’

She held the front door open just wide enough to enable Lessingham and me to slip through, then she shut it after us with a bang. She evidently had a strong objection to any intrusion on Sydney’s part.

Standing just without the gate he saluted us with a characteristic vigour which was scarcely flattering to our late hostess. Behind him was a constable.

‘I hope you two have been mewed in with that old pussy long enough. While you’ve been tittle-tattling I’ve been doing, —listen to what this bobby’s got to say.’

The constable, his thumbs thrust inside his belt, wore an indulgent smile upon his countenance. He seemed to find Sydney amusing. He spoke in a deep bass voice, —as if it issued from his boots.

‘I don’t know that I’ve got anything to say.’

It was plain that Sydney thought otherwise.

‘You wait till I’ve given this pretty pair of gossips a lead, officer, then I’ll trot you out.’ He turned to us.

‘After I’d poked my nose into every dashed hole in that infernal den, and been rewarded with nothing but a pain in the back for my trouble, I stood cooling my heels on the doorstep, wondering if I should fight the cabman, or get him to fight me, just to pass the time away, —for he says he can box, and he looks it, —when who should come strolling along but this magnificent example of the metropolitan constabulary.’ He waved his hand towards the policeman, whose grin grew wider. ‘I looked at him, and he looked at me, and then when we’d had enough of admiring each other’s fine features and striking proportions, he said to me, “Has he gone?” I said, “Who?—Baxter?—or Bob Brown?” He said, “No, the Arab.” I said, “What do you know about any Arab?” He said, “Well, I saw him in the Broadway about three-quarters of an hour ago, and then, seeing you here, and the house all open, I wondered if he had gone for good.” With that I almost jumped out of my skin, though you can bet your life I never showed it. I said, “How do you know it was he?” He said, “It was him right enough, there’s no doubt about that. If you’ve seen him once, you’re not likely to forget him.” “Where was he going?” “He was talking to a cabman, —four-wheeler. He’d got a great bundle on his head, —wanted to take it inside with him. Cabman didn’t seem to see it.” That was enough for me, —I picked this most deserving officer up in my arms, and carried him across the road to you two fellows like a flash of lightning.’

Since the policeman was six feet three or four, and more than sufficiently broad in proportion, his scarcely seemed the kind of figure to be picked up in anybody’s arms and carried like a ‘flash of lightning,’ which, —as his smile grew more indulgent, he himself appeared to think.

Still, even allowing for Atherton’s exaggeration, the news which he had brought was sufficiently important. I questioned the constable upon my own account.

‘There is my card, officer, probably, before the day is over, a charge of a very serious character will be preferred against the person who has been residing in the house over the way. In the meantime it is of the utmost importance that a watch should be kept upon his movements. I suppose you have no sort of doubt that the person you saw in the Broadway was the one in question?’

‘Not a morsel. I know him as well as I do my own brother, —we all do upon this beat. He’s known amongst us as the Arab. I’ve had my eye on him ever since he came to the place. A queer fish he is. I always have said that he’s up to some game or other. I never came across one like him for flying about in all sorts of weather, at all hours of the night, always tearing along as if for his life. As I was telling this gentleman I saw him in the Broadway, —well, now it’s about an hour since, perhaps a little more. I was coming on duty when I saw a crowd in front of the District Railway Station, —and there was the Arab, having a sort of argument with the cabman. He had a great bundle on his head, five or six feet long, perhaps longer. He wanted to take this great bundle with him into the cab, and the cabman, he didn’t see it.’