Ben on the Job. J. Farjeon Jefferson

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СКАЧАТЬ dived into a pocket. ‘This is the address wot ’e give me. ’E wrote that. And so I sez okay, and then arter ’e went I telerphoned ter the pleece, like I said, and then I come on ’ere ter you.’

      He held the paper out to her, and she took it and read its message: ‘Mrs Kenton, 46, Jewel Street, SE. This is to introduce Mr Eric Burns, a pal of mine. As you know I have to go away, and I want him to occupy my room till I come back. Ask no questions, etc. Love to Maudie. O.B.’

      She read it through two or three times, as though to memorise it, and then handed the paper back.

      ‘I thought your name was Ben,’ she said.

      ‘That’s right,’ answered Ben, ‘but ’e got callin’ me Heric fer a joke, though I never knoo wot the joke was, and then ’e tacks on Burns ter mike it complete like.’

      ‘And he is O.B.’

      ‘That proberly don’t mean no more on ’is birth certifikit than wot Eric Burns does on mine. Well, mum, there we are, so wot do I do?’

      ‘What do you want to do?’

      ‘Well, come ter that, I s’pose wot’s best.’

      ‘Best for—’

      He filled in her pause.

      ‘Fer you, mum, wouldn’t it be?’ he said. ‘I mean that’s wot I come ’ere for, ain’t it?’

      ‘I don’t understand you.’

      ‘It’s a waiste ter try. I was tryin’ ter work it aht meself once when somebody said it couldn’t be done.’

      ‘I believe they were right. But let us forget ourselves for the moment—what do you think we ought to do?’

      He noticed that it was ‘we’ this time, not ‘you’. He thought hard, so he would make no mistake.

      ‘I expeck it’s like this, mum. If we was ter go by the copybook—you know, “I must be good,” “I mustn’t tell no lies,” “I must wash arter meals,” then p’r’aps I orter tike this bit o’ paiper ter the pleece, tell ’em me story, and let ’em git on with it, never mind the risk. I’ll do that if yer say so—on’y, some’ow, I don’t think yer want ter say so.’

      ‘Why wouldn’t I?’

      ‘Ah, there yer are! I’m givin’ yer feelin’s, not reasons.’

      After an instant of hesitation she asked: ‘But—don’t you think I would want the person who killed my husband to be caught?’

      Ben’s eyes opened wide. ‘Well, nacherly, mum,’ he answered. ‘But arter wot I’ve told yer, yer may think—like me—that p’r’aps I got a better charnce o’ bringin’ it orf than the pleece—things bein’ like they are like?’

      She nodded, then suddenly glanced at a clock on the mantelpiece and jumped up from her chair.

      ‘Wait a moment!’ she exclaimed.

      She ran out of the room, and Ben got an impression during her short absence that she was telephoning. He thought he heard a faint voice coming from some other part of the house, and although he could not hear any words the voice had that odd, telephonic quality as though the speaker were talking to a wall. When she returned, something had changed in her mood. She spoke swiftly and urgently.

      ‘We must hurry!’ she exclaimed. ‘They will soon be back for me. Would you go to that address?’

      ‘Yus,’ he answered. ‘Okay.’

      ‘There may be some risk—’

      ‘Well, it’s gotter be one kind of a risk or another, ain’t it?’

      ‘Perhaps—I don’t know. But—if you learn anything—well, what would you do?’

      ‘Come ter you with it.’

      ‘You’d do that? Whatever it was?’

      ‘I carn’t see why not, mum? See, if we git on ter ’im defernit like, you could pass it on ter the cops as well as me, couldn’t yer?’

      She regarded him uncertainly, then said: ‘Yes—I could. And now you must go quickly—Ben. But there’s one more thing. How are you off for money?’

      Ben blinked rather sheepishly.

      ‘Well, mum, strickly speakin’, I got fourteen shillin’s and threepence, and that’s more yourn than mine. See, it’s the chinge I got orf the taximan arter givin’ ’im your ’usbin’s pahnd note fer the fare.’

      ‘You must keep that for expenses. But is that all you’ve got?’

      ‘Tha’s right.’

      ‘You must have more. Now that—now that I’ve engaged you, you’ll need something to carry on with your job.’

      ‘Oh! Yer engaigin’ of me?’

      ‘Yes. You’re my private detective.’

      He watched her while she opened her bag and took out her purse.

      ‘I see,’ he said. ‘On’y—I wasn’t doin’ this fer money, if yer git me?’

      ‘I know that, but you’ve got to have money if you’re going to be of any use to me. It’s because you haven’t been doing this for money that I trust you. Take this, and if you need any more you must let me know.’

      She handed him five pounds in notes.

      ‘Go on!’ he exclaimed, incredulously. ‘Mike it a couple!’

      But she insisted, and he stowed the notes away anxiously in his one sound pocket.

      Then, in a sudden panic in which he joined, she packed him out of the back door while a car drew up at the front.

       6

       The Kentons at Home

      In spite of the glittering name of its thoroughfare, the front door of 46, Jewel Street had less appeal to the visitor than the front door of 18, Drewet Road. In fact, it had no appeal at all. It was in the middle of an unbroken row of a dozen front doors which were equally spaced in a long low width of depressing, time-worn bricks. Each door had a small square window beside it and a smaller square window above it. In some of the windows were uncheerful birds and gasping plants. The door of No. 46 had once been red, but had now faded to a pale and indeterminate hue, like the lips of an ill, disillusioned girl who no longer had the energy or interest to use a lipstick.

      But, as Ben discovered the moment the door was opened, a very vivid lipstick was used on the other side of the door. Indeed, for an instant СКАЧАТЬ