Peregrine's Progress Part 77

"Bring the fellow to your chambers, despatch a note to Sir Jervas and leave it to his decision."

So we walked on, perfectly ignoring this very pertinacious Bow Street officer; but I, for one, was not sorry when at last we reached the door of my chambers, and halting, turned to behold the Bow Street officer, who had stopped also and appeared to be lost in contemplation of the adjacent chimney pots. And as he stood thus, I was struck by his air of irreproachable respectability and pervading mildness; despite the formidable knotted stick beneath his arm, he seemed indeed to radiate benevolence from the soles of his stout boots to the crown of his respectable, broad-brimmed hat.

"A re-markable vide-avake young man, yours, sir," said he gently, still apparently lost in contemplation of the chimney pots, "a re-markable vatchful young man an' werry attentive!"

"What do you mean, officer?"

"I mean, sir, as he's opened your door afore you knocked."

Glancing at the door, I saw indeed, to my surprise, that it stood slightly ajar; hereupon I reached out to open it when it swung wide and my man Clegg stood before us.

"I saw you approaching, sir," he exclaimed, bowing us in.

Reaching my small library, the officer seated himself at my invitation and depositing hat and stick very precisely beneath his chair, sat looking more unctuously mild than ever, there was about him a vague suggestion of conventicles, and a holy Sabbatarian calm.

"You said your name was Shrig, I think?" said I.

"Jarsper Shrig, sir, at your sarvice."

"Then perhaps, while I write my letter, you will take a gla.s.s of wine, Mr. Shrig?"

"Sir," he answered, "not beating about no bushes, I vill--Mr.

Werricker, sir."

"You know my name?" I exclaimed a little sharply.

"I dedooce same, sir, from them three letters on your secretary as is a-staring me straight in the face, Mr. Werricker."

"Pray, Anthony, oblige me by ringing the bell!" said I, taking up my pen.

Soft-treading, the discreet Clegg duly brought in decanter and gla.s.ses, and Mr. Shrig, watching him pour out the wine, drew from his capacious pocket a little book and opened it, much as though he would have read forth a text of Scripture, but all he said was:

"Thank 'ee, my man!" and then, as the door closed upon the discreetly silent Clegg, "Your 'ealth, gen'elmen!"

The letter to my uncle Jervas being written and despatched, I turned to find Mr. Shrig busied with his little book and a stumpy pencil, much as if he had been composing a sermon or address, while Anthony, lounging upon the settee, watched him with lazy interest.

"A on-commonly taking cove, sir, that young man o' yourn!" said Mr.

Shrig, pocketing book and pencil.

"Not more so than other servants, I believe," I answered.

"And all valets," murmured Anthony, "all valets are predatory by nature, of course--"

"I mean as he's a likely cove. Now, talkin' o' corpses--" began Mr.

Shrig.

"But we are not!" said I.

"Axing your parding, sir, but I am and, perfessionally speakin', never 'ave I seen a prettier corp', than this 'ere young fe-male in question--"

"And your experience in such is vast, I take it?" murmured Anthony.

"None waster, sir! Wast is the werry vord for it."

"Do you think this is a case of suicide or murder?" enquired Anthony.

"Can't say, sir. But somevun's allvays bein' murdered, murderin' or goin' for to murder somevun, somevere or t'other."

"Sounds cheery!" murmured Anthony. "Do you catch many murderers?"

"Pretty fair, sir, pretty fair. I got a special apt.i.tood for it; I can smell murder in the werry air, feel it, taste it--"

"Must be devilish unpleasant!" said Anthony.

"'Tis a nat'ral gift wi' me, sir. Lord love ye, gen'elmen, I can p'int you out a murderer afore the fact's committed--I've got the names o'

four on 'em--no, five--wrote down in my little reader, five werry promisin' coves as is doo for the deed at any moment; I'm a vaitin'

for 'em to bring it off, sirs. Lord, I'm a vatchin' over 'em like a feyther an' mother rolled into vun, an' v'en they do commit the deed, I shall appre'end 'em red-'anded an' up they'll go."

"Your methods are highly original, Mr. Shrig," said I, "but do they always work correctly?"

"Ever an' always, sir--barrin' accidents. O' course, there's many a promisin' murderer died afore 'e could do the deed, death 'as no more respect for vould-be murderers than for their wictims. But whenever I sees a cove or covess with the true murderer's face, down goes that cove or covess' name in my little reader, an' I vatches an' vaits for 'em to bring it off, werry patient."

"Have you written down the name of Haredale in your little book?" I enquired.

"Haredale, Mr. Werricker, sir? V'y no, I ain't. V'y should I, sir? Vot ha' you to tell me about any party, name o' Haredale?"

"Only that you will find such a name on the piece of paper you are after."

Mr. Shrig's roving eye fixed me for a moment.

"Haredale?" he muttered, shaking his head, "Haredale?"

At this juncture, with a soft knock on the door, Clegg presented himself, bearing the following letter from my uncle.

MY DEAR PEREGRINE: I am grateful for your forethought, but you may suffer the man to visit me, for the law is the law--besides, the man Shrig is an old acquaintance. Moreover I have learned all I desired from the sc.r.a.p of paper and it is therefore entirely at Mr. Shrig's service. Should you still be suffering from spleen, liver or the blue devils, go for a gallop on your "Wildfire."

With which salutary advice to yourself and good wishes to your friend Mr. Vere-Manville,

I REST, YOUR AFFECTIONATE UNCLE, JERVAS.

"Mr. Shrig," said I, "you have my uncle's permission to wait upon him at once. Sir Jervas is acquainted with you, it seems?"

"Sir Jervas?" repeated Mr. Shrig, reaching down for hat and k.n.o.bby stick. "Ackvainted? I should say so, sir! A reg'lar bang-up blood, a downright 'eavy toddler--oh, I know Sir Jervas, ackvainted is the werry i-denti-cal name for it! So, with your permission, sir, I'll be padding on my vay."

"You will find him at his chambers in--"

"St. James's Street, nigh opposite to Vite's, Mr. Werricker, sir. Ah many's the drop o' French brandy, gla.s.s o' port or sherry as I've drank to the 'ealth o' your uncle in them werry i-dentical chambers, sir. A gent wi' a werry elegant taste in crime is Sir Jervas. No, don't trouble to come down, sir, your young man shall let me out. A reg'lar treasure that 'ere young man o' yours, Mr. Werricker! Good morning, gen'elmen both, my best respex!"

So saying, Mr. Shrig bobbed his head to us in turn, beamed as it might have been in benediction, and took himself away.