Sgt Beef - Case Without A Corpse Part 41

That man! I said. He's a thief. I want to charge him!

And now, for the first time, the bootmaker turned. He saw that I was indicating him and stopped. But he was ten yards away, and when I dropped my voice to address the policeman, he could not hear me.

He stole a hundred pounds from me this afternoon, in one pound notes. I heard he was coming to Croydon and I've followed him here.

Ah! said the policeman non-commitally.

We started walking towards old Rogers who stood looking rather pathetic and dumb-founded, with his suit-case still in his hand. When we came up to him he was the first to speak.

Why, Mr. Townsend, whatever's the matter? he asked, staring at me wide-eyed.

I felt rather wretched as I turned to the policeman.

My name is Stuart Townsend, I said, I've been staying at Braxham where this man has a shop. ...

The constable broke in. Before we go any further, he said to old Rogers, I'd like to know your name.

Rogers, said the old chap.

Mr. Rogers, what money have you on you?

I can't see what concern that can be of yours, said old Rogers. He spoke not indignantly but in a puzzled voice, as though he really would have liked to know.

Well, there's a mix-up here, was all the explanation he got, and it would simplify things if you'd tell me.

I have . . . some treasury notes. I really don't know how many.

Any objection to my seeing them? For a moment I thought that he was going to refuse. He glanced first at me, then at the policeman.

You may look, he said, and plunging his hand into an inside pocket he drew out a thick bundle.

The policeman turned to me. Are these yours? he asked.

They look like it, I was wise enough to say. I had a packet of a hundred in my bedroom at the hotel to-day. At three o'clock I went upstairs and found this man coming out of the room. I looked in the drawer where I kept them, and found them gone. I am sure enough to charge him.

You are?

Absolutely.

Very well. He turned to old Rogers. I shall have to arrest you, he said.

The old man hadn't spoken a word since I had made my preposterous accusation. And to my surprise he said nothing now. He stared at me with an expression which I find hard to describe. It was not of surprise so much as of wonder. It was as though he were trying in his mind to settle some question about me.

The policeman turned to his colleague for a moment and I contrived to draw near to the old boy. I could not bear to let him feel as he must do about me.

It's all right, I whispered, Beef says it's all right. He says it's a matter of a human life.

He stared at me no longer but with a shrill and angry voice began to address the police. It seemed that my brief sentence, which had been meant to calm him, had had the opposite effect. He stormed at us. It was a trumped-up accusation, he said. I was an impostor. He was a respectable tradesman of many years standing who was going for a well-merited holiday. It was scandalous that he should be delayed in this way. The policeman and I would answer for it.

I have never had more respect and grat.i.tude for the laconic obstinacy of the police. The constable had decided to arrest old Rogers, and arrest him he did. In fact, it seemed that if he needed any more to convince him of the validity of the charge the old man's indignation provided it.

Come along, he said unsympathetically and I saw old Rogers led briskly away.

Beef was waiting for me in a great state of pleasure and excitement.

You wasn't 'arf good! he said, slapping me too heavily on the back. You ort to've been an actor! The way you ran arfter 'im! I shall never forget it. He chuckled. And charged 'im prop'ly you did. I was larfing fit to bust myself when I saw them take 'im orf!

This praise from Sergeant Beef would have been more pleasant if he had been a dramatic critic instead of a policeman. As it was I was conscious of having done a very dubious thing, and one which might land me into all sorts of trouble.

Thank you, I said coldly. And now I think you owe me some explanation.

All right. All right. You shall 'ave all the explanation you want. And your part in this shan't be forgotten, Mr. Townsend.

I should much prefer that it were, I said feelingly.

No you wouldn'tnot when you know the 'ole truth. And you shan't be kep' waiting much longer for that. We're orf to Scotland Yard now. I'm going to make my report. I just rung up Inspector Stute and 'e'll be waiting for us.

That's good, I said, but without any enthusiasm, as we got into our waiting taxi. We were soon humming back towards town.

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

WELL NOW, said Beef, when we were sitting in Inspector Stute's office at Scotland Yard, I'd like to get this job done with. I'm not much of an 'and at telling 'ow I come to get on to anythink, but I'll do my best, and be as quick as I can. He consulted a large silver watch. There was a chap come through Braxham the other day wot said 'e always 'ad a game of darts at night in the Bricklayers' Arms, off the Gray's Inn Road, and I should like to get round and see him before they close.

Am I to understand Beef, put in Stute impatiently, that you really believe you've got to the bottom of this case?

That's it, sir.

You know who was murdered?

Yes. I know 'oo was murdered.

Then where's the corpse?

Buried, sir.

Good heavens. Are you . . .?

Suppose you let me start at the beginning. We shan't never get done this way. I'll try to tell it as it came to me.

Very well, snapped Stute, interested, in spite of himself.

Of course, sir, with all the advantages you gentlemen up 'ere 'ave over us nowadaysand Gawd knows you 'ave got them, with all these new methods and thatthere's one way we come out strong in a case like this. That's knowing the people in our own districts. I mean, you understands their sick . . . sick ...

Psychology? I whispered.

That's it. You understands all thatbut we knows their natures. It 'elps, as you'll see. The very first thing I thought to myself about this case waswhat was young Rogers doing committing suicide like that?

A very profound reflection, Beef.