Produced by eagkw, Robert Cicconetti and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Thisfile was produced from images generously made availableby The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
GREAT PORTER SQUARE: A MYSTERY.
BY B. L. FARJEON,
_Author of "Grif," "London's Heart," "The House of White Shadows," etc._
_IN THREE VOLUMES._
VOLUME I.
LONDON: WARD AND DOWNEY, 12, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. 1885. [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.]
PRINTED BY KELLY AND CO., GATE STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS AND KINGSTON-ON-THAMES.
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
I.--Introduces Mrs. James Preedy; hints at the trouble into which she has fallen; and gives an insight into her social position 1
II.--What was printed on the quarto bill: a proclamation by her Majesty's Government 19
III.--Extracted from the "Evening Moon" 25
IV.--The examination of Mrs. Preedy, continued from the "Evening Moon" 33
V.--Contains further extracts from the "Evening Moon" relating to the Great Porter Square mystery 50
VI.--The "Evening Moon" speaks its mind 56
VII.--In which the "Evening Moon" continues to speak its mind 62
VIII.--The "Evening Moon" postpones its statement respecting Antony Cowlrick 88
IX.--In which the "Evening Moon" relates the adventures of its Special Correspondent 90
X.--The Special Reporter of the "Evening Moon" makes the acquaintance of a little match girl 121
XI.--The "Evening Moon" for a time takes leave of the case of Antony Cowlrick 142
XII.--Mrs. Preedy has dreadful dreams 147
XIII.--Mrs. Preedy's young man lodger 154
XIV.--In which Becky commences a letter to a friend in the country 167
XV.--In which Becky continues her letter, and relates how she obtained the situation at No. 118 175
XVI.--In which Becky writes a second letter to her friend in the country, and gives a woman's reason for not liking Richard Manx 183
XVII.--In which Becky, continuing her letter, relates her impressions of Mrs. Preedy's young man lodger 193
XVIII.--The "Evening Moon" reopens the subject of the Great Porter Square murder, and relates a romantic story concerning the murdered man and his widow 219
XIX.--The "Evening Moon" continues its account of the tragedy, and describes the shameful part enacted by Mr. Frederick Holdfast in his father's house 244
GREAT PORTER SQUARE:
A MYSTERY.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCES MRS. JAMES PREEDY; HINTS AT THE TROUBLE INTO WHICH SHE HAS FALLEN; AND GIVES AN INSIGHT INTO HER SOCIAL POSITION.
Mrs. James Preedy, lodging-house keeper, bred and born in the vocation,and consequently familiar with all the moves of that extensive class ofpersons in London that has no regular home, and has to be cooked for,washed for, and generally done for, sat in the kitchen of her house,No. 118, Great Porter Square. This apartment was situated in thebasement, and here Mrs. Preedy received her friends and "did" for herlodgers, in so far as the cooking for them can be said to be includedin that portentous and significant term. The floor of the kitchen wasoil-clothed, with, in distinguished places, strips of carpet of variouspatterns and colours, to give it an air. Over the mantelpiece was asquare looking-glass in a mahogany frame, ranged on each side of whichwere faded photographs of men, women, and children, and of one gentlemanin particular pretending to smoke a long pipe. This individual, whoseface was square, whose aspect was frowning, and whose shirt sleeves weretucked up in an exceedingly free and easy fashion, was the pictorialembodiment of Mrs. Preedy's deceased husband. While he lived he was "aworryer, my dear," to quote Mrs. Preedy--and to do the lady justice, helooked it; but being gone to that bourne from which no lodging-housekeeper ever returns, he immediately took his place in the affections ofhis widow as "the dear departed" and a "blessed angel." Thus do we oftenfind tender appreciation budding into flower even at the moment theundertaker nails the lid upon the coffin, and Mr. Preedy, when thebreath was out of his body, might (spiritually) have consoled himselfwith the reflection that he was not the only person from whose gravehitherto unknown or unrecognised virtues ascend. The weapons of the deadwarrior, two long and two short pipes, were ranged crosswise on the wallwith mathematical tenderness. When her day's work was over, and Mrs.Preedy, a lonely widow, sat by herself in the kitchen, she was wont tolook regretfully at those pipes, wishing that he who had smoked themwere alive to puff again as of yore; forgetting, in the charity of herheart, the crosses and vexations of her married life, and how often shehad called her "blessed angel" a something I decline to mention fordefiling the kitchen with his filthy smoke.
The other faded photographs of men, women, and children, representedthree generations of Mrs. Preedy's relations. They were not a handsomefamily; family portraits, as a rule, when the sun is the painter, arenot remarkable for beauty, but these were a worse lot than usual. Intheir painful anxiety to exhibit themselves in a favourable light, Mrs.Preedy's relations had leered and stared to such a degree that it musthave been no easy matter for them to get their features back into theirnatural shape after the photographer in the City Road was done withthem. To make things worse, they were in their Sunday clothes, and ifthey had just been going into the penitentiary they could not havelooked more unhappy and uncomfortable.
On the mantelpiece, also, were two odd broken lustres which, in thecourse of their chequered career, had lost half their crystal drops;two fat vases, with a neat device of cabbage roses painted on them;an erratic clock, whose vagaries supplied a healthy irritant to itsmistress; and a weather indicator, in the shape of an architecturalstructure representing two rural bowers, in one of which, suspended oncatgut, dwelt an old wooden farmer, and in the other, also suspended oncatgut, a young wooden woman. When the weather was going to be stormy,the wooden old farmer swung out, and with an assumption of preternaturalwisdom stared vacantly before him; when it was going to be fine,the wooden young woman made her appearance, with a smirk and a leerindicative of weak brains. They never appeared together; when one was inthe other was out; and that they were more frequently wrong than rightin their vaticinations concerning the weather (being out when they oughtto have been in, and in when they ought to have been out: which, in anodd way, has a political signification) did not in the slightest degreeaffect the wooden impostors. In this respect they were no worse thanother impostors, not made of wood, who set themselves up as prophets(announcing, for instance, from time to time, the end of the world),and exhibit no sense of shame at the continual confounding of theirpredictions.
The other furnishings of the room were in keeping. The kitchen range;the dresser, with its useful array of plates and dishes, and pots andpans; the sideboard, with its obstinate drawers, which, when they didallow themselves to be pulled out, gave way with a suddenness whichbrought confusion on the oper
ator; the six odd chairs, one of blackhorsehair, bits of which peeped up, curious to see what was goingon; one very sad, of green rep, representing faded gentility; two ofwood and two of cane, and all of different breeds; the sofa, with atreacherous sinking in its inside, indicative of spasms and rickets; thesolid, useful kitchen table, upon which many a pudding had been made,and many a slice cut from lodger's joints; the what-not of walnut wood,utterly useless, despite its pretension; the old-fashioned high-backedpiano, with very little music in it, which had been taken for a debtfrom two old maiden sisters who had seen better days, and who haddrifted, drifted, till they had drifted to Great Porter Square; theextraordinary production in water colours, which might have been a shipon fire, or a cornfield in a fit, or a pig cut open, or a castle on asunlit mountain, or the "last-day," or a prairie of wild buffaloes,executed by one of Mrs. Preedy's nephews, and regarded as a triumph ofart; the two coloured prints, one of the Queen, the other of PrinceAlbert; the six odd volumes of books, all tattered and torn, like theman in the nursery rhyme;--these were the elegant surroundings which setthe stamp upon Mrs. Preedy's social standing in the neighbourhood ofGreat Porter Square.
There were four doors in the kitchen--one leading into the passage whichcommunicated with the upper portion of the house, another affordingan entrance into Mrs. Preedy's bedchamber, another disclosing a darkcupboard, apparently about four feet square, but which, being used as abedroom by the maid-of-all-work, must have been slightly larger, and thelast conducting to the scullery, which opened into the area, through theiron grating of which in the pavement above, human nature monotonouslypresented itself in a panoramic prospect of definite and indefinitehuman legs and ankles. Here, also, glimpses of a blissful earthlyparadise were enjoyed by the various maids-of-all-work who came and went(for none stopped long at No. 118), through the medium of the baker, andthe butcher, and even of the scavenger who called to collect the dust.Many a flirtation had been carried on in that dark nook. Beneath arearailings, as in the fragrant air of fashionable conservatories, Love islord of all.
Mrs. Preedy was alone. Not a soul was in the kitchen but herself. In thedark cupboard the maid-of-all-work was enjoying, apparently, a sleep aspeaceful and noiseless as the sleep of a flower. It was nearly twelveo'clock at night, and not a sound was to be heard but Mrs. Preedy'sheavy breathing, as, with many a sigh, she read, in the columns of amuch-thumbed newspaper, an item of news in the shape of a police report,which must have possessed a singular magnetic power, inasmuch as she hadread it so often that she ought to have known it by heart. Nevertheless,upon the present occasion, she did not miss a single word. Spectacleson nose, she followed the report line by line, keeping faithful markwith her forefinger until she reached the end; and then she commenced itall over again, and inflicted what was evidently a serious mortificationupon herself. For it was not to be doubted, from the various shades ofinquietude and distress which passed over her face as she proceeded,that the subject matter was exceedingly distasteful to her. It wouldhave been the dryest of dry work but for the glass of gin and water fromwhich Mrs. Preedy occasionally took a sip--moistening her grief, as itwere. The liquid might have been supposed to have some kind of sympathyfor her, exciting her to tears, which flowed the more freely the moreshe sipped.
Once, treading very softly, she crept out of the room into the passage,and looked up the dark staircase. As she did so, she was seized witha fit of trembling, and was compelled to cling to the balustrade forsupport. She crept upstairs to the street door, at which she listenedfor a familiar sound. With her hand on the handle she waited untilshe heard the measured tread of a policeman; then she opened the doorsuddenly. It was a complaining, querulous door, and as she opened it ajarring sound escaped from its hinges. This sound produced an effectupon the policeman. He started back in affright, and with one leapplaced himself outside the kerb of the pavement. No cause for reasonablealarm presenting itself, he looked up, and saw Mrs. Preedy standing uponthe threshhold.
"O, it's you, Mrs. Preedy?" he said, half-questioning.
"Yes," she replied, "it's me."
"You startled me," he said, coming close to her. "As the door openedit sounded like a smothered cry for 'Help,' and I won't deny that itstartled me."
"I don't wonder at it," said Mrs. Preedy; "sometimes the least soundsends my 'eart into my mouth."
By one impulse they both looked at the house next door, No. 119 GreatPorter Square. The next moment they turned their heads away from thehouse.
"Will you have a glass of gin?" asked Mrs. Preedy.
"I've no objections," replied the guardian of the night.
He stepped inside the passage, and waited while Mrs. Preedy wentdownstairs--now with a brisker step--and returned with a glass ofliquor, which he emptied at a gulp. Thus refreshed, he gave the usualpoliceman's pull at his belt, and with a "thank 'ee," stepped outsidethe street door.
"A fine night," he said.
"Yes," said Mrs. Preedy.
"But dark."
"Yes," acquiesced Mrs. Preedy, with a slight shudder, "but dark. 'Asanythink been discovered?" with another shrinking glance at No. 119.
"Nothing."
"'As nobody been took up?" she asked.
"No," replied the policeman. "One man come to the station last nightand said he done it; but he had the delirium trimmings very bad, and wefound out this morning that he was in Margate at the time. So of courseit could'nt have been him."
"No," said Mrs. Preedy, "but only to think of it--though it's more thantwo months ago--sends the cold shivers over me."
"Well, don't you be frightened more than you can help. _I'll_ look afteryou."
"Thank you," she said.
"Good night."
"Good night."
She closed the door and crept down to her kitchen, and sat down oncemore to a perusal of the newspaper.
There were other papers on the table at which she occasionally glanced,and also a quarto bill printed in large type, with a coat of arms at thetop, which caused her to shudder when her eyes lighted on it; but thisone paper which she read and re-read in anguish and tribulation of soul,appeared to enchain her sole attention and sympathy. The quarto billwas carefully folded, and what was printed thereon was concealed fromview; but its contents were as vivid in Mrs. Preedy's sight as theywould have been if they had been printed in blood.
The truth was, Mrs. Preedy was in trouble. A terrible misfortune hadfallen upon her, and had occasioned a shock to her nervous system fromwhich she declared she could never recover. But even this afflictionmight have been borne (as are many silent griefs from which, notunfrequently, the possessors contrive to extract a sweet and mournfulconsolation), had it not been accompanied by a trouble of a morepractical nature. Mrs. Preedy's means of livelihood were threatened,and she was haunted by grim visions of the workhouse.
The whole of the upper part of her lodging-house--the dining rooms, thedrawing rooms, the second and third floors, and the garrets or attics,the boards of which were very close to the roof--were ordinarily let tolodgers in various ranks and stations of life, none apparently abovethe grade of the middle class, and some conspicuously below it. Manystrange tenants had that house accommodated. Some had come "down" inlife; some had been born so low that there was no lower depth for them;some had risen from the gutters, without adding to their respectabilitythereby; some had floated from green lanes on the tide which is everflowing from country to city. How beautiful is the glare of lights, seenfrom afar! "Come!" they seem to say; "we are waiting for you; we areshining for you. Why linger in the dark, when, with one bold plunge, youcan walk through enchanted streets? See the waving of the flags! Listento the musical murmur of delight and happiness! Come then, simple ones,and enjoy! It is the young we want, the young and beautiful, in thiscity of the wise, the fair, the great!" How bright, even in fragrantlanes and sweet-smelling meadows, are the dreams of the great cityin the minds of the young! How bewitching the panorama of eagerforms moving this way and that, and crossing each other in rest
lessanimation! Laughter, the sound of silver trumpets, the rustle of silkendresses, the merry chink of gold, all are there, waiting to be enjoyed.The low murmur of voices is like the murmur of bees laden with sweetpleasure. Distance lends enchantment, and the sound of pain, the cry ofagony, the wail and murmur of those who suffer, are not heard; the rags,the cruelty, the misery, the hollow cheeks and despairing eyes, are notseen. So the ships are fully freighted, and on the bosom of the tideinnocence sails to shame, and bright hope to disappointment and despair.
But it mattered not to Mrs. Preedy what kind of lives those who lodgedwith her followed. In one room a comic singer in low music-halls; inanother a betting man; in another a needle-woman and her child; inanother a Frenchman who lay abed all day and kept out all night; inanother a ballet girl, ignorant and pretty; in another the poor young"wife" of a rich old city man; and a hundred such, in infinite variety.Mrs. Preedy had but one positive test of the respectability of herlodgers--the regular payment of their rent. Never--except, indeed,during the last few weeks to one person--was a room let in her housewithout a deposit. When a male lodger settled his rent to the day, hewas "quite a gentleman;" when a female lodger did the same, she was"quite a lady." Failing in punctuality, the man was "a low feller," andthe woman "no better than she should be, my dear."
At the present time the house was more than half empty, and Mrs. Preedy,therefore, was not in an amiable mood. Many times lately had she saidto neighbour and friend that she did not know what would become ofher; and more than once in the first flush of her trouble, she hadbeen heard to declare that she did not know whether she stood on herhead or her heels. If the declaration were intended to bear a literalinterpretation, it was on the face of it ridiculous, for upon such apoint Mrs. Preedy's knowledge must have been exact; but at an importantperiod she had persisted in it, and, as the matter was a public one,her words had found their way into the newspapers in a manner notagreeable or complimentary to her. Indeed, in accordance with thenew spirit of journalism which is now all the fashion, three or foursmartly-conducted newspapers inserted personal and quizzical leadingarticles on the subject, and Mrs. Preedy was not without good-naturedfriends who, in a spirit of the greatest kindness, brought theseeditorial pleasantries to her notice. She read them in fear andtrembling at first, then with tears and anger, and fright andindignation. She did not really understand them. All that she didunderstand was that the cruel editors were making fun of the misfortunesof a poor unprotected female. Curious is it to record that the departedMr. James Preedy came in for a share of her indignation for being deadat this particular juncture. He ought to have been alive to protect her.Had the "blessed angel" been in the flesh, he would have had a warm timeof it; as it was, perhaps, he was having---- But theological problemshad best be set aside.
Mrs. Preedy read and read, and sipped and sipped. Long habit had endowedher with a strength of resistance to the insidious liquid, and, althoughher senses were occasionally clouded, she was never inebriated. Sheread so long and sipped so frequently, that presently her eyes beganto close. She nodded and nodded, bringing her nose often in dangerousproximity with the table, but invariably, at the critical moment, aviolent and spasmodic jerk upwards was the means of saving that featurefrom fracture, though at the imminent risk of a dislocation of theslumberer's neck.
While she nods in happy unconsciousness, an opportunity is afforded oflooking over the newspapers, especially that which so closely concernsherself, and the quarto bill, printed in large type, the contents ofwhich she so carefully conceals from sight.
Great Porter Square: A Mystery. v. 1 Page 1
