In common with many other men in Fleet Street, that never-sleeping world of tape and flimsy, Dick had one failing he had a penchant for a particular brand of whisky sold at the Cheese, the ancient house of steak-pudding fame, but he was always moderate, for his great pride was that his sub-editors could place the greatest reliance in him, as indeed they could. Dick Cleugh was certainly smart, even though his hair was often unkempt and a bundle of copy-paper usually poked out of the side-pocket of his well-worn overcoat. Over and over again had he proved himself a very brilliant pressman and had startled London by the latest details he had elicited where the police had failed.
I had arrived at our chambers about six, after a heavy day. I had visited Barking and Wandsworth, and had made an inquiry at Hammersmith, three districts far afield from one another, therefore I felt fagged and hungry. The Hag was engaged in fizzling the usual daily steak in the gas fumes, filling the place with a decidedly appetising odour; nevertheless, between Dick and I there was an arrangement that neither should eat without the other, unless a telegram arrived announcing a protracted absence. Therefore I lit a cigarette, cast myself into the trifle rickety but very comfortable armchair, and waited by the open window. I was just a trifle melancholy that evening, for there had come back to me recollections of a love-bond long since severed, of a face which was once very dear to me. But I was a lonely bachelor now. All was of the past. Soon, however, as I sat thinking, I saw Cleugh hurrying across the square, his silk hat, a trifle rusty, tilted at the back of his head, and a few moments later he burst merrily into the room, saying
Sorry to keep you so long, old chap, but we brought out an extra to-night. Theres a bit of a row down in Parliament. Then, calling to Mrs Joad, who was pottering in the sink beyond, he said, Come along, mother. Look sharp with the horseflesh!
We sat down and commenced our meal, while he, overflowing with spirits, told me how he had been out on an inquiry near to the Welsh Harp, spending a very pleasant afternoon there, and how he meant to write it up for the mornings. The old instinct of the liner was still upon him, and on his littered table he always kept his agate stylus and oiled tissue, known as flimsy, his blacks and his square of tin whereon to write. The sub-editors of the morning papers, the judges of next days intelligence, could always rely on Dick Cleughs stuff, therefore they used it, and he profited at the rate of a penny farthing per line. He was, in brief, purveyor of sensations to the newspaper-reading public.
Im going to take Lil out to-night, my companion said between mouthfuls of steak, for he was ravenously hungry. Smart girl, Lil.
Yes, I answered. Shes really awfully nice. By Jove! old chap, I envy you.
The Mystery Man smiled contentedly with a piece of meat poised gracefully on his fork, then he began humming the latest love-song which the barrel-organs had made popular, beating time with his fork, at the same time placing his hand upon his heart in true operatic style.
This proceeding was, however, interrupted by the entrance of the Hag bearing a telegram for me. On opening it I found it contained only the one word Come, signed by the initial P.
I tossed it across to my companion without comment, and as I did so was surprised to notice a strange, puzzled look upon his dark face.
He glanced at it, then handing it back to me, exclaimed Wonder whats up at Kensington?
Something unusual, or Patterson wouldnt have wired, I said.
Youll go, of course?
Yes. Ill just see what it looks like, and if theres anything in it Ill let you know.
Well, old dawdler, he laughed, if its a good thing, leave a bit of the latest intelligence for me to pick up for my early edition to-morrow. To-night I cant disappoint Lily, you know. Shes a good girl, and never worries.
Ill tell you all about it when I come back; then you can write up something in readiness for to-morrow. If its a mystery my people wont touch it, you know.
Of course, he said. Your staff is only paid to look pleasant.
The mysterious telegram had come from the police headquarters at Kensington, an early intimation that something unusual had occurred. In years of reporting in London I had become friendly with many police inspectors and detectives, and had long ago made arrangements with some of them whereby they would send me a wire by day, or a line by boy-messenger at night with information of the latest sensation. The reason why all were signed with initials was because such intimation was contrary to the order of the Chief Commissioner.
I therefore left Dick sucking his foul briar, and, taking a motor-bus to Kensington, entered the police-station, which stands back hidden in a courtyard opposite St. Mary Abbots Church. In the charge-room, with its bare, grey-painted walls, its steel-railed dock for prisoners, its loud-ticking clock, and its desk, whereon the oblong charge-book lay open, I found my old friend Inspector Patterson in earnest conversation with two men of the working class, who spoke with a strong Cockney accent and addressed him familiarly as guvnor. They were evidently policemens noses, or, in criminal parlance, narks.
Good evening, Mr Urwin, the inspector exclaimed, putting forth his big hand. He was a tall, fair-moustached, easy-going fellow, an excellent officer, tender-hearted where the deserving poor was concerned, but harsh and unbending towards the habitual offender. From constable, as I had first known him in the T or Hammersmith Division, he had been moved to St. Lukes, to Paddington, to Leman Street and to Bow Street, until, owing to the marks which various magistrates had made upon his charge sheets, he had now at last risen to the rank of first-class inspector.
He was discreet in his every action, therefore he did not refer to the telegram he had sent me lest any of the men should overhear, but when we had chatted for a few moments he whispered
Go over to the bar at High Street Railway Station and wait there for me. I want to see you very particularly.
I nodded. Then, after some further conversation, I left him and wandered across to the refreshment room he had indicated.
Chapter Two
The Penny in Paper
About twenty minutes elapsed before Patterson rejoined me, but expressing a fear that we might be overheard there, we went forth together and strolled along High Street, until, coming to a quiet turning which, I think, led past the workhouse, we strolled along it, and there he commenced his explanation.
The fact is, he said in a nervous, hushed voice, theres been a most extraordinary occurrence here to-night. The mystery is the strangest in all my experience, and Ive made inquiries into one or two in my time, as you know.
Tell me all about it, I said, my curiosity whetted.
I wish I could, my dear fellow, he answered.
I mean, tell me all the known facts.
Nothing is known save the discovery, he replied. As soon as it became known I wired to you. When the papers get hold of it, it will make the greatest sensation ever known in London.
Well, thats saying a good deal, I remarked. Who made the discovery?
I did, he answered, adding quickly, but dont mention me, or the superintendent may suspect me of giving you information. He already has a suspicion that Im a bit too friendly with you gentlemen of the press. A contravention of the Commissioners orders against giving information to the papers might get me carpeted up at the Yard, you know.