Down To The Abbey (A Jules Poiret Mystery Book 12) Read online

  “Come, get on! Was there anyone inside?”

  “I would think there was! I twigged him at once by the description you gave me. I’ve never seen a gentleman togged out as he was with a tall hat and a short coat in a really bang-up style. To be certain, I went right up to him, because it was getting dark and had a good look at him. He had got out of the trap and was marching up and down the pavement, with an unlit cigar stuck in his mouth.”

  Old Man Davidson began to grow impatient with all this rigmarole. “Come, tell me what took place,” he said angrily.

  “Precious little. The young swell didn’t seem to care about dirtying his shoes. He kept slashing about with his cane and staring at all the gals. What an ass that masher is! Wouldn’t I have liked to have punched his head! If you ever want to hide him, daddy, please think of yours truly. He wouldn’t stand up to me for five minutes.”

  “Go on, my lad, go on.”

  “Well, we had waited half an hour, when suddenly a woman came fast around the corner and stops before the masher. Wasn’t she a fine gal! But they spoke in whispers.”

  “So you didn’t hear what they said?”

  “Do you take me for a donkey? The gal said, “Do you understand?” Then the swell lad, says he, “Do you promise?” and the gal, she answers back, “Yes.” Then they parted. She went off to Pollard Road and the masher tumbled into his wheel box. Now hand over them five shilling.”

  Old Man Davidson didn’t seem surprised at this request and he gave over the money to the young loafer with the words, “When I promise, I pay down on the nail, but remember what I say. You’ll come to grief one day.”

  The old man lingered until he had seen the young man go off. “I have not lost my day,” he murmured. “Won’t Berrick be awfully pleased?”

  The office of the influential friend of Old Man Davidson was situated in Ligonier Street. Mr. Berrick had a registry office for the engagement of both male and female servants. A sign fastened on the side of the door announced the hours of opening. It was the long existence of Mr. Berrick in a business which was usually very short-lived that had obtained for him a great amount of confidence throughout the whole of London. Employers said that he sent them the best of servants and the domestics in their turn asserted that he only dispatched them to good houses. Berrick was able to draw considerable profit from them and was the owner of the building before which Will Platts was standing. The five hundred shilling of Old Man Davidson had been well spent and his clothes did credit to his own taste and the skill of his tailor. Indeed, in his fine feathers he looked so handsome, that many women turned to gaze after him. He however took but little notice of this. “A registry office!” he said scornfully. “Is he going to propose a position of a hundred shilling a month to me? There is no use in staying here.” Something kept him from leaving immediately, though. He ascended a flight of stairs and paused before a door on which “OFFICE” was written. “Come in!” came the reply at once to his knock. He pushed open the door and entered a room, which closely resembled all other similar offices. Between the windows was a tin plate, with the words, “All fees to be paid in advance,” in large letters on it. In one corner a gentleman was seated at a writing table making entries in a ledger as he was talking to a woman, who stood beside him.

  “Mr. Berrick?” asked Will hesitatingly.

  “What do you want with him?” asked the man, without looking up from his work. “Do you want to enter your name? We’ve now vacancies for three bookkeepers, a cashier and a confidential clerk. Can you provide us with good references?”

  “I beg your pardon,” answered Will, “but I would like to see Mr. Berrick. One of his friends sent me here.”

  This statement obviously impressed the official and he replied almost politely, “Mr. Berrick is much occupied at present, sir, but he will soon be disengaged. Please be seated.”

  Will sat down on a bench and examined the man, who had just spoken with some curiosity. Mr. Berrick’s associate, Captain Harry Haven was a tall and athletic man, obviously enjoying the best of health. He had served in the army. He was young and considered a good-looking gentleman. The entries that he was making in the ledger didn’t prevent him from keeping up a conversation with the woman standing by him. The woman, who looked like a cook, might be described as a thoroughly jovial soul. She seasoned her conversation with pinches of snuff and spoke with a strong Brummie accent.

  “Now, look here,” said Haven, “do you really mean to say that you want a place?”

  “I do.”

  “You said that six months ago. We got you an impressive one and three days afterward you were gone.”

  “And why wouldn’t I? There was no need to work then.”

  Haven laid down his pen and eyed her curiously for a second or two then he said, “I say! Show some loyalty to our friend, Mr. Berrick.”

  She half turned away her head and began to complain of the meanness of her former mistress, who instead of allowing the cooks to do the provisioning, did it herself and so cheated them out of their commissions.

  Haven nodded, just as he had done half an hour before to a lady, who had complained bitterly of the misconduct of her servants. He was compelled by his position to sympathize with both sides.

  The woman had now finished her tirade and drawing the amount of the fee from a well-filled purse, put it on the table, saying, “Please, Captain Haven, register my name as Claire Innerleithen and get me a real good position. It must be a cook, you understand and I want to do the provisioning without the missus getting in the way.”

  “Well, I’ll do my best.”

  “Try and find me a wealthy widower or a young woman married to a very old gentleman. Now, do look around, Captain. I’ll drop in again tomorrow,” and with a farewell, she left the office.

  Will listened to the conversation with feelings of anger and humiliation and in his heart he cursed Old Man Davidson for having introduced him into such company. He was looking for some plausible excuse to leave, when the door at the end of the room was thrown open and two men came in, talking as they did so. One was young and well dressed, with an easy, swaggering manner. The other was an elderly man, with an unmistakable formal air about him.

  “Then, my dear sir,” said the younger man, “I may venture to entertain hopes?”

  “Remember, Sir Alfred,” answered the other, “that if I were acting alone, what you require would be at once at your disposal. Unfortunately, I have others to consult.”

  “I place myself entirely in your hands,” replied the other and left.

  The appearance of the fashionably dressed young man reconciled Will to the establishment in which he was.

  “An aristocrat!” he murmured, “and the other swell-looking gentleman must be Mr. Berrick.”

  Will was about to step forward, when Haven respectfully spoke to the older man.

  “Who do you think, sir,” he said, “I have just seen?”

  “Tell me quickly,” was the impatient reply.

  “Claire Innerleithen.”

  “The woman, who was in the service of the Countess of Sissinghurst?”

  “Exactly so.”

  Mr. Berrick whistled between his teeth. “Where is she living now?”

  Haven was overwhelmed by this simple question. He had omitted to take the client’s address. This omission made Berrick so angry that he forgot all his good manners and broke out with an oath that would have shamed a London cab driver. “How could you be such a fool? We’ve been looking for this woman for five months. You know this as well as I do and yet, when chance brings her to you, you let her vanish again.”

  “I say, sir! Don’t worry. She’ll be back again, sir, tomorrow.”

  “And what do you think she cares for ten shilling? She won’t be back. She drinks and is off her head…”

  Inspired by the thought of remedying his error and regaining the trust of the man, who gave him his first real position after leaving the army after the war, Haven grabbed his hat.
r />   “She has only just gone,” he said, “I can easily overtake her.”

  But Berrick stopped him. “I want to know her whole daily life. Remember that no item, however unimportant it may seem, is not of consequence.”

  Haven disappeared in an instant and Berrick continued to grumble.

  “What a fool!” he murmured. “If only I could do everything myself. I’ve been searching for months, trying to find the clue to the mystery which this woman holds and now she has again escaped me.”

  Will, who saw that his presence was not noticed, coughed to draw attention to it. In an instant Berrick turned quickly around.

  “Excuse me,” said Will.

  “You’re,” said Mr. Berrick, civilly, “Will Platts, are you not?”

  The young man bowed in agreement.

  “Forgive my absence for an instant. I will be back immediately,” said Berrick.

  He passed through a door and in another instant Will heard his name called.

  Compared to the main office, Berrick’s office was luxurious, because the windows were bright, the paper on the walls fresh and the floor carpeted. But few of the visitors to the office could boast of having been admitted into this sanctum. Generally business was conducted at Haven’s table in the outer room. Will, however, who was unacquainted with the prevailing rule, was not aware of the distinction with which he had been received. Berrick, on his visitor’s entrance, was comfortably seated in an armchair in front of the fire, with his elbow on his desk. It was a perfect world in itself and indicated that its owner was a man of many trades. It was piled with books and documents, while a great deal of the space was occupied by square pieces of cardboard, on each of which was a name in large letters, while underneath was writing in very small characters.

  With a benevolent gesture, Berrick pointed to an armchair and in encouraging tones said, “And now let us talk.”

  It was plain to Will that Berrick was not acting, but that the kind and patriarchal expression on his face was natural to it and the young man felt that he could safely entrust his whole future to him.

  “I have heard,” commenced Berrick, “that your means of livelihood are very precarious or rather that you’ve none and are ready to take the first position that offers you a means of subsistence. That, at least, is what I hear from my friend Davidson.”

  “He has explained my case exactly.”

  “Good! Before continuing to the future, let us speak of the past.”

  Will gave a start, which Berrick noticed, because he added, “I hope you will excuse the freedom I’m taking, but it is absolutely necessary that I know to what I’m binding myself. Davidson tells me that you’re a charming young man, strictly honest and well educated and now that I have had the pleasure of meeting you, I’m sure that he’s right, but I must be certain before I act on your behalf with third parties.”

  “I don’t have anything to hide, sir. I’m ready to answer any questions,” replied Will.

  A slight smile, which Will didn’t detect, played around the corners of Berrick’s mouth. With a gesture, with which all, who knew him were familiar, he pushed back his gold rimmed glasses on his nose.

  “I thank you,” he answered. “It is, however, not so easy as you suppose to hide anything from me.” He took one of the packets of cardboards from his desk and shuffling them like a pack of cards, continued, “Your name is Will Platts. You’re in your twenty-fourth year?”

  “That is correct, sir.”

  “You’re an illegitimate child?”

  The first question had surprised Will, the second absolutely astounded him.

  “Quite true, sir,” he replied, not attempting to hide his surprise, “but I had no idea that Mr. Davidson was so well informed. The partition which divided our rooms must have been thinner than I thought.”

  Berrick took no notice of this remark, but continued to shuffle and examine his pieces of cardboard. Had Will caught a clear glimpse of these, he would have seen his name on the corner of each.

  “Your mother,” Berrick went on, “kept a fish and chips shop the last fifteen years of her life.”

  “Just so.”

  “But a business of that description in a town like Swansea does not bring in very remunerative results and luckily she received for your support and education a sum of three thousand shilling per year.”

  This time Will sprang up from his seat, because he was sure that Old Man Davidson could not have heard this secret at the boarding house on Pollard Street.

  “Great Scott!” he cried, “Sir, who could have told you a thing that has never passed my lips since my arrival in London and of which even Selma is entirely ignorant?”

  Berrick raised his shoulders.

  “You can easily comprehend,” he said, “that a man in my line of business has to know many things. If I didn’t take the greatest precautions, I would be deceived daily and so lead others into error.”

  Will had not been more than an hour in the office, but the orders given to Haven had already taught him that Berrick ran more of a detective bureau than merely providing domestics to the wealthy.

  “Though I may be curious,” Berrick went on, “I’m discreet. How did your mother receive this annuity?”

  “Through a London banker.”

  “Do you know him?”

  “Not at all,” answered Will, who had begun to grow uneasy under this questioning. There was, however, nothing in Berrick’s manner to justify the doubts of the young man, because he appeared to ask all these questions in a matter-of-fact way, as if they were purely affairs of business.

  After a protracted silence, Berrick resumed, “I’m half inclined to believe that the banker sent the money on his own account.”

  “No, sir,” answered Will. “I’m sure you’re mistaken.”

  “Why are you so certain?”

  “Because my mother, who was the incarnation of truth, often assured me that my father died before my birth. I loved and respected her too much to question her on these matters. One day, however, I dared to ask her the name of our benefactor. She burst into tears. I never learned his name, but I know that he was not my father.”

  Berrick affected not to notice the emotions welling up in his young client.

  “Did the allowance cease at your mother’s death?” he continued.

  “No, it was stopped when I came of age. My mother told me that this would be the case. “Will,” she said, “at your birth a friend promised to help me to bring you up and he kept his word. But you’re now twenty-one and must expect nothing more from him.”

  Berrick stood up from his seat and for a few minutes paced up and down the room and then halted with his arms folded in front of the young man.

  “I will not ask any further questions,” he said. “Be assured, however, that I know everything about you, but I cannot tell you by what means.”

  This ambiguous speech caused a tremor of terror to pass through Will, which was plainly visible on his expressive face.

  “Are you afraid?” asked Berrick, readjusting his glasses.

  “I’m much more surprised than afraid, sir,” stammered Will.

  “Come, come! There is no use racking your brain. You will find out all you want quickly enough and had best make up your mind to put yourself in my hands without reserve, because my only desire is to be of service to you.”

  These words were said in the most benevolent manner and as he resumed his seat, he added, “Your mother, whom you justly say was a thoroughly good woman, did her best in order to keep you in college in Swansea.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But your mother’s desire was to see you in Cambridge or Oxford. Perhaps she hoped that her wealthy friend would help you still further. Unluckily, however, you had no inclination for study.”

  Will frowned, but Berrick went on.

  “What did you do instead of studying? You wasted your time over music and composed songs and thought yourself a perfect genius.”

  Will had listened
up to this point with patience, but at this sarcasm he protested loudly, but it was in vain, because Berrick went on pitilessly.

  “Your departure from Swansea was your last act of folly.”

  “Sir, I had hoped…”

  “What? To arrive at fortune by the road of talent? Foolish boy! Every year a thousand poor wretches thus intoxicated come to London. Do you know the end of them? They die of starvation or join the criminal class.”

  Will knew he was right.

  “But,” Berrick went on, “you didn’t leave Swansea alone, you took with you a young woman named Selma Bugbrooke.”

  “Let me explain.”

  “It would be useless. The facts speak for themselves. In six months your savings had disappeared. Then came poverty and at last your thoughts turned to suicide. You were only saved by my old friend Davidson.”

  Will felt his temper rising, because these plain truths were hard to bear, but fear lest he would lose the ear of his benefactor kept him silent.

  “I admit everything, sir,” he said calmly. “I was a fool and almost mad, but experience has taught me a bitter lesson. I’m here today and this fact should tell you that I have given up all my dreams.”

  “Will you give up Selma?”

  As this bold question was put to him, Will turned pale with anger.

  “I love Selma,” he answered coldly. “She believes in me. She has shared my troubles with courage and one day she will be my wife.”

  Berrick bowed with a mocking air. He said, “Is that so? Then I beg a thousand pardons. It is urgent that you should have immediate employment. Pray, what can you do? Not much of anything like most college bred boys. You can do a little of everything and nothing well. Had I a son and an enormous income, I would have him taught a trade.”

  Will bit his lip, but he knew the picture was a true one.

  Berrick suddenly said, “What do you say to a position with a salary of twelve thousand shilling?”

  This sum was so much bigger than Will had dared to hope for, that he believed Berrick was amusing himself at his expense.

  “It is not kind of you to laugh at me under the present circumstances,” he said.