day, and there was a great press of people outside the Duport Arms, and in the public rooms.
As there was no one at the desk, I rang the bell several times until a sour-faced old man, bent of back, and with a greasy black patch over one eye, appeared from behind a curtain.
‘I wish to leave this for collection.’
He took the letter and examined the inscription by holding it up close to his remaining eye.
‘“B.K.”,’ he muttered to himself, and then said the initials over again, more slowly this time, rolling his eye upwards to the ceiling, as if the information he was seeking might be written there. Then he began to nod his head.
‘Do you know the gentleman?’ I asked.
‘Genlemun? Bless you, no. No genlemun.’
‘Not a gentleman? A tradesman, perhaps?’
‘Hah! Not ’er.’
‘Ah, I see. It’s a lady.’
I turned to go, but he called me back. Lowering his voice, and leaning his whiskery face towards me, so close that I could smell his beery breath, he said:
‘No lady neither. Initials of old ’ooman. Over there.’
He nodded towards the tap-room door, through the glass of which, in a settle by the fire-place, I could see a woman of about sixty years in the act of draining a glass.
‘Gin-an’-water,’ the man informed me, with a rasping chuckle. ‘Third or fourth.’ Still chuckling, he laid the letter face up on the desk, next to the bell, and disappeared back behind the curtain.
I should have immediately left the Duport Arms to return to Evenwood, as Lady Tansor had instructed; but then, remembering that Madame had encouraged me to use my initiative in the pursuit of my great task, I decided to remain a few moments longer, in order to make some observations concerning the mysterious old woman.
These were my impressions of her person, jotted down in my note-book, and later transferred verbatim to my Book of Secrets:
OLD WOMAN (’B.K.’) AT DUPORT ARMS
Age: sixty, or thereabouts. Grey hair, and a pinched, mean face, much lined about the eyes, and red about the nose. Short. Bent back. Dirty finger-nails. Wearing a dress that might have been in fashion twenty years since, but now faded, and darned in several places. Scuffed and dusty boots, the heel of the left worn almost to nothing. Hole in right stocking just above the ankle.
I stood, watching the woman call for another glass of gin-and-water, and wondering what had brought her here, to receive a letter, delivered by hand, from Lady Tansor. What could my Lady have to do with such a person?
Having drained her glass to the very bottom, the old woman was now wiping her mouth with the dirty sleeve of her dress. There was an intimidating look of seasoned cunning about her. Even in her present half-inebriated condition, her eyes were alert, darting here and there, as if on the watch for some danger. Gripping the table for support, she now pulled herself to her feet, and began to walk unsteadily towards the tap-room door.
I moved away as she approached; but my further progress was prevented by a group of farmers, who were just then coming in from the Square. Being obliged to step back to let them pass, I soon felt the old woman’s presence close behind me.
When the last of the farmers had gone by, I began to make my way as quickly as I could towards the front door; but then the one-eyed hall-porter appeared from behind his curtain once more and called to the woman.
‘Ma’am! Ma’am! Letter for you.’
Half walking, half stumbling, the old woman went over to the desk and took the letter from the porter.
‘Who brought it?’ she snapped.
‘Young lady over there,’ replied the one-eyed man, directing her to where I was standing.
‘And who might you be, miss?’ she asked, putting on a quickly assumed, but wholly unconvincing, smile as she drew near. ‘I don’t believe as I’ve had the pleasure of your acquaintance, my dear.’
I had no wish to tell this unpleasant person my name, and so said simply that I was Lady Tansor’s maid. Then, quickly
As there was no one at the desk, I rang the bell several times until a sour-faced old man, bent of back, and with a greasy black patch over one eye, appeared from behind a curtain.
‘I wish to leave this for collection.’
He took the letter and examined the inscription by holding it up close to his remaining eye.
‘“B.K.”,’ he muttered to himself, and then said the initials over again, more slowly this time, rolling his eye upwards to the ceiling, as if the information he was seeking might be written there. Then he began to nod his head.
‘Do you know the gentleman?’ I asked.
‘Genlemun? Bless you, no. No genlemun.’
‘Not a gentleman? A tradesman, perhaps?’
‘Hah! Not ’er.’
‘Ah, I see. It’s a lady.’
I turned to go, but he called me back. Lowering his voice, and leaning his whiskery face towards me, so close that I could smell his beery breath, he said:
‘No lady neither. Initials of old ’ooman. Over there.’
He nodded towards the tap-room door, through the glass of which, in a settle by the fire-place, I could see a woman of about sixty years in the act of draining a glass.
‘Gin-an’-water,’ the man informed me, with a rasping chuckle. ‘Third or fourth.’ Still chuckling, he laid the letter face up on the desk, next to the bell, and disappeared back behind the curtain.
I should have immediately left the Duport Arms to return to Evenwood, as Lady Tansor had instructed; but then, remembering that Madame had encouraged me to use my initiative in the pursuit of my great task, I decided to remain a few moments longer, in order to make some observations concerning the mysterious old woman.
These were my impressions of her person, jotted down in my note-book, and later transferred verbatim to my Book of Secrets:
OLD WOMAN (’B.K.’) AT DUPORT ARMS
Age: sixty, or thereabouts. Grey hair, and a pinched, mean face, much lined about the eyes, and red about the nose. Short. Bent back. Dirty finger-nails. Wearing a dress that might have been in fashion twenty years since, but now faded, and darned in several places. Scuffed and dusty boots, the heel of the left worn almost to nothing. Hole in right stocking just above the ankle.
I stood, watching the woman call for another glass of gin-and-water, and wondering what had brought her here, to receive a letter, delivered by hand, from Lady Tansor. What could my Lady have to do with such a person?
Having drained her glass to the very bottom, the old woman was now wiping her mouth with the dirty sleeve of her dress. There was an intimidating look of seasoned cunning about her. Even in her present half-inebriated condition, her eyes were alert, darting here and there, as if on the watch for some danger. Gripping the table for support, she now pulled herself to her feet, and began to walk unsteadily towards the tap-room door.
I moved away as she approached; but my further progress was prevented by a group of farmers, who were just then coming in from the Square. Being obliged to step back to let them pass, I soon felt the old woman’s presence close behind me.
When the last of the farmers had gone by, I began to make my way as quickly as I could towards the front door; but then the one-eyed hall-porter appeared from behind his curtain once more and called to the woman.
‘Ma’am! Ma’am! Letter for you.’
Half walking, half stumbling, the old woman went over to the desk and took the letter from the porter.
‘Who brought it?’ she snapped.
‘Young lady over there,’ replied the one-eyed man, directing her to where I was standing.
‘And who might you be, miss?’ she asked, putting on a quickly assumed, but wholly unconvincing, smile as she drew near. ‘I don’t believe as I’ve had the pleasure of your acquaintance, my dear.’
I had no wish to tell this unpleasant person my name, and so said simply that I was Lady Tansor’s maid. Then, quickly
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