by B.Y. Yan
rear of the tent. On looking around it a huge gash could be discerned in the fabric. And parting it with his hands Bailey saw that it led into the square towards some rubble and a half collapsed pillar of white-stone in the distance.
“Any luck?” he asked Breakerfast then, who was looking over his shoulder out of the opening into the square, wearing an expression of some satisfaction.
“I’m afraid not,” the patrolman replied shaking his head. “If he has gone out this way at all it will be impossible to catch him, for the path is a clear one to the edge of the square and from there into the squalor of the shacks.” As he spoke he was frantically gesturing towards Bailey with his hands. And wide-eyed the young man could only nod his agreement without understanding what was meant by it. Holding one finger up to his lips for complete silence Breakerfast led him tiptoeing their way around the dresser again until they stood before it with the patrolman’s eyes on the brass knobs. He reached for it slowly.
“Well perhaps we can count on du Gale, don’t you think?” asked Bailey, catching on swiftly.
“Oh yes, sir,” cried Breakerfast loudly in agreement. “He is a good old dog, and he will have the scent before long—Gods and great swine! Unhand him at once!”
Almost as soon as he touched the knob the dresser took on a life of its own! Shaking and shuddering in great agitation the doors were suddenly thrown wide open, and Bailey was nearly bowled over by the man who emerged from within swinging in a wild fit. They tumbled together to the floor and fell scrapping and scratching like dogs at each other’s throats. In an instant Breakerfast had joined the fray, brave fellow that he was trying to pull the assailant away from his friend, but catching a stiff one about the jaw he was knocked down and sat there in a daze. His noble gesture, however, had not been in vain, for in that time Bailey found his footing, though his man slipped from his arms and threw himself upon him with renewed vigor and ferocity. And for the span of a minute and change it was a measured short jab against a formidable right hook which might have ended badly for the detective had Breakerfast not regained enough of his senses to produce handcuffs from his pocket. I shall not bore you with the details of their struggles, only that it was a short and quick one in which their quarry ended up overwhelmed by the advantage in numbers. He was persuaded to admit defeat at last with a pistol clapped to his head.
Once he had seen his cause was lost, however, his mannerisms changed at once. He shuffled madly towards Bailey on his knees, and latching onto his coattails began to openly weep.
“Mercy, sir!” he cried, “Mercy! Whatever it is you’ve got me for, I didn’t do it!”
As Bailey was still rubbing his throat and Breakerfast his chin they were inclined to disbelieve him at first. But he explained his actions thusly:
“Well it all comes down to nerves, sir! And mine was plenty frayed when the soldiers marched on in here at first light and took control of the whole establishment. I read a little, sir, though I may not look it, and anyway once the papers started writing about masked giants I understood at once that the stink eye was going to fall on me on account of our working together. So you can understand how I was torn between flying at once and waiting the matter out to prove my innocence. But once the rifles emptied the Lockers save for me, well, you will forgive me when I say things started to break down inside my head.”
“So you slashed the tent and hid in the dresser,” said Bailey. “If not for the fact that my man here noticed it is snowing outside and there are no tracks leading away from the gash you would have fooled us.”
“It was supposed to be a blind, sir,” the fellow confessed meekly. “But all for naught now it seems; and I must now place my fate in your hands.”
“You can begin by telling me what I am here to learn,” said Bailey. “You are Mr. d’Rooksfield, I presume?”
“That is me, sir.”
“Well rest assured that you do not have my interest, and if you will tell me everything there is to know about this giant you work with things will go kindly for you.”
“Gasper,” said d’Rooksfield at once. “He was a sight, that one, for seldom men reaches such heights. Ours was a full partnership putting on a good show for pennies. From week to week he was the titan of legend, and I the hero of the people to slay him, or he a lovable underdog, the gentle giant to the antics of my dastardly heel slave-owner. That was the gist of our working relationship.”
A nod from Bailey indicated that Breakerfast was to proceed with the questioning in his place, and the patrolman immediately took the lead.
“Together you must have been a draw for the Circle.”
“Oh that we were, sir,” d’Rooksfield replied earnestly.
“Then you were close outside of work as well?”
“In our jobs it pays to be, for it is brotherhood above all else which we must foster so that our performance may be carried out in safety. If you cannot trust a man completely, sir, you wouldn’t let him dump you on your head five nights a week before a live crowd. So yes, I count myself among his confidants, though I will now happily tell you everything I can to become yours.”
So began a very short interview in the little time they had before du Gale returned, but everything the wrestler had to say on the matter threw little light on the behavior of the giant. From his descriptions they gathered he was an aloof sort, though not particularly inclined to keep his opinions to himself; he fancied good drinks, was courteous to women and children, adored sweets and loathed the government. It is this last particular characteristic which Bailey latched onto.
“Was he an anarchist?”
“A patriot, sir,” replied d’Rooksfield, “true and true. But he had his own ideas of what it should mean to be a patriot, which he was always eager to share over the course of supper or a smoke under the stars.”
“And was he set with these ideas from the day you met him, or were they imparted to him afterwards by another?”
“I would say that he was of that sort of mind already when he became my partner.”
“How long ago was that?”
“We have been working together for almost four years now.”
“How old is he now?”
“We were to celebrate his nineteenth birthday next Friday.”
“Observe, my lord,” said Breakerfast to Bailey, “that a young man seldom applies himself to anything unless compelled to do so by outside forces. As it was a most dangerous course upon which he met his end, we will have something to go on once we can determine the source of his influences. And since we have our prisoner’s word that he was already so indoctrinated we will have to look beyond those later days to earlier ones in order to catch a clue.” Back to d’Rooksfield now: “You are by your own admission closer than anybody to him, so I will hope to learn from you what your own master was ignorant of. Tell me everything you know of the giant before he became your partner. If he has let slip of a close relative, or the smallest hint of his own upbringing withhold nothing from me now.”
“Well,” said d’Rooksfield thoughtfully, “I believe I’ve heard him mention a father before.”
“Good, good,” encouraged Breakerfast, “And?”
“There was also a mother, but they both passed early, one after another as if they could not fathom to be parted from each other.”
“Who else?”
“The captain of his whaling ship has always treated him kindly. He was also engaged at one point, but the thing was broken off when she too, passed from an island illness that was running rampant then. There was also the broker for cab licenses that he quarreled with since arriving, but he speaks of nothing so much as his niece whom he seldom sees.”
“And his tattoo? What do you make of it?”
“What tattoo, sir?”
“Do not play the ignorant with me, Mr. d’Rooksfield. You of all people should have an idea. It is right here”—Breakerfast showed him on his own arm— “and it is plainly an owl with its wings spread wid
e, taking off in flight.”
“Ah! Well there you have me at a disadvantage, my lord. I always thought it was only an anchor. His associates at the whaling lodge where we found him probably uses it as a symbol of their brotherhood.”
At that moment du Gale returned. He lifted the tent flaps and passed inside wearing a scowl, which deepened further as his eyes widened in astonishment taking in the sight set before him. But as prudent a fellow he was, he understood at once his place, and fell silent beside Bailey without interrupting his man’s questioning of the captive. Fortunately, he did not have long to wait, for it was apparently that Bailey had heard all he needed, and the interview was in the process of being wound up.
“I’m all done with him,” said the detective to du Gale as he motioned for him to draw up. “You may release him.”
“But sir—!” ejaculated du Gale at once in outrage.
“There was no crime committed,” interrupted Bailey with an upraised hand. “Perhaps a case could be made for bad decisions, but beyond that there is little to recommend anything. And anyway I have given my word to the fellow, and it should serve well enough to sooth your ego to hear that I shan’t mention your embarrassment to another living soul.”
Still the inspector fumed, but alas there was little he could do about it. Surely it was apparent to me as it would be to you that it was a very poor way to handle things,
