Ben Sees It Through. J. Farjeon Jefferson

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      ‘No! Yes—’

      ‘Which? Which?’

      ‘Well, I’m all of a fluster! The man went first, and the girl went a few seconds after.’

      ‘Aha!’ exclaimed Joe, his triumph increasing. ‘Aha!’

      The inspector rushed out of the bar, gave an order, and rushed in again.

      ‘Now, then!’ he said. ‘How long were they in here, and look lively!’

      ‘I can’t look lively when you make me so breathless!’ returned the barmaid. ‘Three or four minutes, I should think.’

      ‘What did they do?’

      ‘He came in first, and she came in afterwards—’

      ‘Yes, yes, I know that. She came in after spilling a red herring! What happened when he left?’

      He jerked his thumb towards Joe.

      ‘Nothing happened,’ answered the barmaid.

      ‘Think again!’

      ‘Well, nothing happened that was anything, if you know what I mean. They had drinks—’

      ‘Drinks!’ cried the inspector. ‘Where are the glasses?’

      ‘Washed up.’

      ‘Damn! You’ve washed off their finger-prints!’

      ‘How was I to know—’

      ‘Yes, yes, all right! Did they seem in a hurry?’

      ‘He did! Tossed it down quicker than you talk! I thought to myself, “You’ve got a throat a mile wide, or you’d choke,” I thought. And then out he goes, leaving his cap behind.’

      ‘Cap, eh?’

      ‘That’s right.’

      ‘Good! Where is it?’

      ‘She took it out after him. Naturally I thought—’

      ‘What you were intended to think,’ interposed the inspector, disappointedly. ‘A put-up job, of course. Otherwise she’d have come back, wouldn’t she? And you can’t think of anything else, eh?’

      ‘I can describe ’em,’ answered the barmaid, combatting an unjust sense of failure. ‘The man was a funny little fellow—’

      ‘In a greasy coat and a new cap,’ interrupted the inspector, ‘and the girl was small, too, but trim and neat, pretty and with brown hair.’ He glanced at Joe. ‘I’ve got their descriptions.’ He glanced back at the barmaid. His head moved as sharply as his tongue. ‘Well, if that’s all you can do for us—’

      ‘No, I can do a bit more!’ exclaimed the barmaid, suddenly recollecting. ‘They come from China!’

      ‘China?’ repeated the inspector, staring.

      ‘Yes! I know, because when she drank she said Buenos Aires or something, and it meant “Good luck and we’ll meet again.”’

      ‘Why, that fixes it!’ cried the inspector. ‘“Good luck to our escape and we’ll meet again outside!” You’ve been treated to a nice little bit of acting, miss! But your Buenos Aires don’t sound exactly Chinese to me.’

      ‘Well, she said it was,’ frowned the barmaid.

      ‘And the next time you see her, if she says she’s eating kippers you can bet your life it’s haddock! I suppose you can’t get any nearer that foreign toast?’

      ‘I’m sure of the Buenos, but the Aires don’t sound right. Would it be Dairies? No, that’s cows, and this made me think of a donkey … Ah, I’ve got it. Buenos Dias! Funny how things come back all of a sudden. Buenos Dias—’

      ‘And if that isn’t Spanish, it’s damn like it!’ interposed the inspector, with another quick glance at Joe. ‘Now, you see, they’re all three tied together. The sailor knocks a policeman down while the Spaniard makes his get-away, and the girl puts a drink down while the sailor makes his get-away. And the girl speaks Spanish, so is obviously thick with the Spaniard. The circle’s complete. Well, we’ll have ’em all three under lock and key before bedtime tonight, or I’ll take up knitting!’

      Upon which he swung round and left the pleasantly fuggy bar for the cheerless night outside.

      ‘There you are,’ said Joe.

      ‘Yes, and he couldn’t stop thanking you, could he?’ retorted the barmaid.

      The retort hit Joe bang in the middle. Joe preferred recognition even to service. He looked pensive.

      The barmaid also looked pensive.

      ‘Them two!’ she murmured. ‘Would you have believed it?’

       6

       Sanctuary in a Barn

      This time Ben did not run in a circle. He found himself piloted by someone who preferred zizags. In Ben’s best moments he also preferred zigzags, but he had not had many best moments since he had left the ship, and he found it exceedingly restful, even while he panted, to act under orders again.

      He realised, of course, the motive of this hastily resumed flight. The red-faced man was the motive. Those unpleasant pale blue eyes had never lost their suspicion, and it had been quite obvious that the fellow had not left the bar to go home. He had left the bar to return to it with company, and neither Ben nor Molly was in a mood for any company saving their own.

      So they zigzagged ingeniously through dark and windy lanes. The darkness hid their forms and the wind drowned their gasps. But Molly, the pilot, was taking no chances. Elements might assist, but it was wit that won in the end, and when they came to forked roads she suddenly whispered, ‘Wait!’ and darted up one of them.

      Ben waited. He endured with wavering fortitude a score of lonely seconds. The wind blew his cap off, and he only just saved it from sailing over a hedge. If he had not saved it, the whole course of his immediate future would have been changed.

      ‘I ’ope she ain’t goin’ ter be long!’ he thought, fixing the rescued cap more tightly on his anxious head.

      She reappeared an instant later, materialising out of the blackness like a happy ghost. But it was a ghost with only one shoe.

      ‘Where’s it gorn?’ asked Ben.

      Perhaps he would not have noticed the absence so soon if the unshod foot had not been so pretty. Neat, it was! But then she was neat all over. Lummy, she could tell some o’ them toffs off when it came to looks! Neat as a pin—and СКАЧАТЬ