great difficulty; I doubted that he could have done much better. Still and all, I did not like him, and it is easiest to attribute black deeds to those whom we dislike. If anyone of my acquaintance were to hang for the murder of Teresa O’Reilly, I should like it to be him. I decided to learn more about him.
On my daily errands about the district surrounding Cov-ent Garden I looked for my “bully-boy,” thinking I might have time to follow him at a distance and unobserved, and thus discover something of his haunts and walks. Yet look as I might, I found him not. Had he suddenly disappeared? Left London altogether? No, I decided, his sort would be more likely to be about at night.
By chance, however, I happened to meet Maggie Pratt one morning in Covent Garden whilst I was doing the day’s buying. She recognized me right enough but looked at me with distrust as she attempted to push past.
“Please, Mistress Pratt,” said I, “might I have a word with you?”
“What manner of word would you have?”
“A few questions — ^just a few questions.”
“It seems to me I gave all the answers I have to your master.”
“These are a bit different from his. Perhaps we could move over there, a bit out of the crowd’s way.”
Merely to stop there in the piazza was to risk being bumped and buffeted by the milling crowd. She consented to be led off to one side and out of the flow of humantide.
“Awright now, what is it?” she challenged me, eager to be off.
“When I came to fetch you in Angel Court, you recall that a young man left your place there and you called after him most angrily.”
She looked at me sharply. “I remembers well enough.”
“Who was he?”
‘That’s my affair and none of yours.”
“Was he the same as came often asking after Teresa O’Reilly? You said he was something of my size and shape.”
“But I said it plain it weren’t you.”
“Indeed you did. But that is not the question. Was that the same fellow I saw in Angel Court?”
“If he was or wasn’t has got nothin’ to do with Teresa. Now, if you’ll step aside, I’ll be on my way.”
“But what was his name?”
Lips pursed, she made to push me aside. I had no authority to detain her, and so I stepped back and let her pass. As she bustled on her way, she threw one look back at me over her shoulder — not so much a look of fear, as I somehow expected, but one of annoyance. With a sigh, I turned back and resumed my way to the stall of Mr. Tolliver, the butcher.
There was, obviously, one other who knew something of the fellow in question. Yet I blush to tell that I was reluctant to question Mariah about him for fear of angering her. There was also no little difficulty, I had found, in managing to talk with her at all. She was less dependably to be found at her regular post in New Broad Court. Where she wandered and how far I could not say, for I seldom had time to go searching for her as I dashed about bearing letters and requests for Sir John to all parts of Westminster and the City. On those few occasions on which I did spy her, she was in conversation with one or another, and I had no wish to wait about until the discussion ended and she were free — or else had marched off arm in arm (as I once witnessed) with her companion in conversation.
I did at last find her alone towards the latter part of one afternoon, and I determined to put a few discreet questions to her. I greeted her politely and with a smile, and offered her a shilling.
She smiled sweetly and said to me, “Ah no, young sir, I see how rich you dress! Is not possible to come to me in your old coat and pantaloni and make a bargain to me. I say two shillings before. That is my price. I go no more for one shilling.”
“I want only to talk to you,” said I. “For that I would pay a shilling.”
“Like before?” She laughed quite merrily at that. “You pay me. We talk.”
I placed a shilling in her hand. Again she dropped it down her blouse to
On my daily errands about the district surrounding Cov-ent Garden I looked for my “bully-boy,” thinking I might have time to follow him at a distance and unobserved, and thus discover something of his haunts and walks. Yet look as I might, I found him not. Had he suddenly disappeared? Left London altogether? No, I decided, his sort would be more likely to be about at night.
By chance, however, I happened to meet Maggie Pratt one morning in Covent Garden whilst I was doing the day’s buying. She recognized me right enough but looked at me with distrust as she attempted to push past.
“Please, Mistress Pratt,” said I, “might I have a word with you?”
“What manner of word would you have?”
“A few questions — ^just a few questions.”
“It seems to me I gave all the answers I have to your master.”
“These are a bit different from his. Perhaps we could move over there, a bit out of the crowd’s way.”
Merely to stop there in the piazza was to risk being bumped and buffeted by the milling crowd. She consented to be led off to one side and out of the flow of humantide.
“Awright now, what is it?” she challenged me, eager to be off.
“When I came to fetch you in Angel Court, you recall that a young man left your place there and you called after him most angrily.”
She looked at me sharply. “I remembers well enough.”
“Who was he?”
‘That’s my affair and none of yours.”
“Was he the same as came often asking after Teresa O’Reilly? You said he was something of my size and shape.”
“But I said it plain it weren’t you.”
“Indeed you did. But that is not the question. Was that the same fellow I saw in Angel Court?”
“If he was or wasn’t has got nothin’ to do with Teresa. Now, if you’ll step aside, I’ll be on my way.”
“But what was his name?”
Lips pursed, she made to push me aside. I had no authority to detain her, and so I stepped back and let her pass. As she bustled on her way, she threw one look back at me over her shoulder — not so much a look of fear, as I somehow expected, but one of annoyance. With a sigh, I turned back and resumed my way to the stall of Mr. Tolliver, the butcher.
There was, obviously, one other who knew something of the fellow in question. Yet I blush to tell that I was reluctant to question Mariah about him for fear of angering her. There was also no little difficulty, I had found, in managing to talk with her at all. She was less dependably to be found at her regular post in New Broad Court. Where she wandered and how far I could not say, for I seldom had time to go searching for her as I dashed about bearing letters and requests for Sir John to all parts of Westminster and the City. On those few occasions on which I did spy her, she was in conversation with one or another, and I had no wish to wait about until the discussion ended and she were free — or else had marched off arm in arm (as I once witnessed) with her companion in conversation.
I did at last find her alone towards the latter part of one afternoon, and I determined to put a few discreet questions to her. I greeted her politely and with a smile, and offered her a shilling.
She smiled sweetly and said to me, “Ah no, young sir, I see how rich you dress! Is not possible to come to me in your old coat and pantaloni and make a bargain to me. I say two shillings before. That is my price. I go no more for one shilling.”
“I want only to talk to you,” said I. “For that I would pay a shilling.”
“Like before?” She laughed quite merrily at that. “You pay me. We talk.”
I placed a shilling in her hand. Again she dropped it down her blouse to
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