The bully had hold of Verity by shirt and trousers and was slamming him back repeatedly against the wall. Verity's fists beat on the pouched face but Strap seemed to feel nothing. And then, as the breath was beaten from his body, Verity's arms fell limp and the light from the window began to grow black. He tried to shout for Samson but the words came only as spasms of breath from his exhausted lungs.
Then Samson was back in the fight, clutching at a leg from the broken chair and bringing it down on Jack Strap's head. But Samson was too short to deliver the blow effectively. Strap shook his head, as though to dislodge a troublesome insect, and then began to beat Verity against the wall again. Satisfied that one of his adversaries was out of action for the time being, he left Verity to slide down the wall to the floor, and swung round on Samson. From the waist of his trousers, the bully had drawn his brass-weighted belt. The time had come to finish Samson once and for all. Whirring the weighted leather at his side he closed upon the dazed policeman.
Samson staggered back, stumbling over fallen furniture in an attempt to get beyond Strap's range. It was Verity who got first to his knees, then to his feet, and attacked the enemy from the rear. To hold him back from Samson, he leapt upon Strap's shoulders, hanging there with his arms locked round the bully's throat. Strap hardly seemed to notice. He moved forward, driving Samson into a corner of the room.
As they passed the dressing-table, Verity snatched up a large bottle of lavender water and began to beat the massive skull with the thick glass. And still Strap hardly appeared to notice. With Verity's weight riding on his back, he whirred the loaded belt faster and faster as he prepared Samson for the coup de grace.
His arms thrown up before his face, Samson was crouched in the corner beyond all possibility of self-defence. Strap had begun his career as a fairground fighter, taking on three men simultaneously in the exhibition ring. It would have needed the greater part of the Private-Clothes Detail to match him now.
And then Verity came to his senses. He stopped beating Strap on the skull and loosened his grip on the leathery throat. Very gently he undid the top of the lavender water and poured the contents of the bottle down over the bully's face and into his eyes. Strap thrashed about him with a bellow of fury, fists scrubbing at his eyes to wipe away the blinding pain. Samson edged away from the corner in which he had been trapped. He grabbed a fallen curtain, ran a running noose round Strap's ankles and brought the bully down by a tremendous heave.
As Verity fell on his adversary's back, Samson took the handcuffs from his belt and managed to snap one of them round Strap's right wrist. The second wrist defied all his efforts. It was Verity who reached out and drew the bed closer until the free cuff could be locked round its iron frame.
'Samson!' he shouted. 'Get Meiklejohn! All of 'em! Anyone yer can! Call from the window!'
He jumped clear and left Samson in the room with his prisoner. His last glimpse was of Samson shouting through the open window, while the half-blinded bully bellowed and roared his way round the room, towing after him the iron bedframe to which he was now shackled. Verity opened the door of the only other room on this floor and found it empty. On tiptoe he went up the next flight of stairs. He had no idea who, if anyone, might be in the attics above but it was quite possible that Strap was not the only one of Kite's men in the house. And if Kite and Old Mole had ordered the deaths of Madame Rosa, her maid, and Cosima Bremer, they would not have hesitated to add his own to the list.
He opened the first attic door. The sunlit little room contained three beds, presumably used by Madame Rosa's pupils during term. Otherwise the apartment was empty. He opened the next door and saw two empty beds. Where else could she be? He took a step forward into the room. And then, worse than anything that Strap had done to him, there was the sudden shock of an atrocious impact on his skull. He slid down in an explosion of light and a slow darkness closed above him.
He had no idea how long he had been lying there. As he drifted towards consciousness again there was such pain in his head that he could not bear to move it. Bella's voice came to him, weeping and far off.
‘Oh, Mr Verity! Oh, Mr Verity!'
He opened his eyes and saw that he was lying on the little bed nearest to the door. Bella was looking down at him.
'Mrs Verity!' His voice rasped and thickened however much he tried to prevent it. 'Bella!'
Her hands were clasped in consternation.
'Oh, Mr Verity! We never thought it was you! We never meant it for you!'
To one side of him, on the floor, was a length of metal pipe.
'Mrs Verity!' Admiration and reproach were finely balanced in his voice.
'Oh, Mr Verity! Poor, dear, Mr Verity!'
There were two other people in the room. He saw, in double vision, the adolescent figure of Jane Midge. Then, as his eyes cleared, he made out Meiklejohn working with a hacksaw at another length of piping. He looked back at Bella, scandalously attired in nothing beyond bodice and pantalets.
‘ 'ere Mrs Verity!' he said excitedly. 'Where's yer clothes?'
'They took the dress for the servant girl,' she said primly. 'The big man and that other one with dark cropped hair.'
'Old Mole,' Verity said thickly. 'Meiklejohn! What's been happening while I was lying here?'
'Nothing much,' said Meiklejohn sawing determinedly to free Jane Midge. 'Half of Brighton constabulary is in the square outside. That's all.'
'And Jack Strap?'
'They caught him just below, on the promenade. Pulling a bed behind him. He's cuffed and ironed, in the lock-up.' 'And them bodies?'
'Madame Rosa and her maid. While you was decoyed to the beach that time, seems that Sealskin Kite's lot took over this house and coopered the pair of 'em. On'y Strap was to pretend to be the old girl coming and going. That way they could keep Mrs V. and Midge prisoners here. And they could come and go through the foundation wall to get from this to next door.'
Verity lay there, too exhausted to discuss the matter further. In any case, he knew all there was to know by this time.
A dress was found for Bella and early in the evening they were taken home. In the corner of the square stood the yellow hackney coach with Stringfellow and Jolly on the box. Verity followed Bella inside after the cabman's tearful reunion with his daughter. All Bella's tears of joy had been shed on her husband's recovery. She sat in the coach with him, calm and contented.
'I never would a-done you such damage, Mr Verity,' she said softly. 'You know that.'
'There, there, Mrs Verity!'
'Only it was that nasty Strap person we was expecting. And I got this bit of lead pipe free yesterday. And though I couldn't quite reach the door, being chained to the iron pipe by an ankle, I could make the lead one reach there. So, of course, when the door opens and someone comes through. . .' 'There, there, Bella! There, there!'
They passed the evening crowds and the quiescent tide, but their eyes rested tranquilly on one another. Presently, however, Bella sat back and wrinkled her pretty nose.
' 'ere, Mr Verity! Where you say you been exactly?'
22
Three times Verity had stood to attention in front of the desk to receive Croaker's reprimands. But this time there was a difference. The lime-washed office of the Brighton constabulary was familiar enough, but the face behind the desk had changed. Brushing his white cavalry commander's moustaches compulsively, Superintendent Gowry seemed to pierce the plump sergeant with the gaze of his calm blue eyes. Gowry was the supreme 'Governor' of the Private-Clothes Detail, a stickler for discipline. But, unlike Croaker, the ex-artillery supply officer, Gowry had been a fighting soldier. As such, he had been trained in the old-fashioned military ideals of decency and loyalty towards the men who served under him.
'Sergeant,' he said quietly, 'it is a matter of great regret to me that I should be compelled to perform this duty in Mr Croaker's place.'
'Yessir,' said Verity as contritely as he knew how.
'Mr Croaker, gallant officer and le
ader of men that he is, will remain an invalid for the rest of the month. Both arms and one leg in plaster.'
'Sir?'
'Your inspector's valiant attempt to apprehend Jack Strap in Brunswick Square, as the villain was fleeing towards the promenade, is an example of courage to you all. Indeed, had you and Samson not been so remiss as to attach the man to a potential weapon, the injuries might have been avoided.'
'You mean Strap hit Mr Croaker with the bed, sir?'
'Yes,' said Gowry shortly. 'Mr Croaker was furthermore the victim of a cowardly assault by a masked villain, still unidentified, during the search of Brunswick Square and the discovery of Fraulein Bremer's body there.'
'Well I never, sir!'
'Be that as it may, Mr Croaker is now hors de combat.'
Verity's honest face creased in total incomprehension. Gowry looked at him coldly.
'Which brings us to the matter of your suspension, sergeant.'
'Yessir.'
'You were in the wrong, of that there is no doubt,' Gowry's fingers played indecisively upon the desk as he sought for words. 'I find you wrong in leaving your post. I find you foolish, as I hear from Mr Croaker, in merely pretending that your wife had gone off with another man in a cab. Never once did you offer evidence of the gravity of what had happened in fact.'
Verity opened his mouth protestingly but Gowry waved him to silence.
'However, sergeant, the ordeal you have suffered and the courage you have shown must be weighed in the scales likewise. Your suspension is lifted, your pay is restored. There will be no board of inquiry.'
' 'umbly grateful, sir.'
'You have saved two lives,' Gowry continued. 'The evidence of Strap and the dying testimony of O'Meara has thrown the fraud in reverse. A good deal of the money, though perhaps not all of it, will be recovered from the thieves, alive or dead.'
'Very gratified to 'ear it, sir.'
Gowry opened the folder in front of him. It was Verity's dossier.
'Not much here to sing about. Eh, sergeant?' 'No, sir. 'fraid not, sir.'
'Reprimands, warnings, insubordination,' Gowry's fingers flicked through the pages, 'assault, suspicion of complicity, complaint by a young person Cox.'
'Yessir.'
'To which I must make my own addition,' said Gowry solemnly. 'Yessir.'
'Commander's commendation for valour.'
The blood surged to Verity's head and his plump cheeks glowed with the pride of recognition at last.
'Dunno what to say, sir!' he gasped.
'No need to say anything,' Gowry's quill was scratching on the cerulean blue paper. 'Mr Croaker would have known how to reward you, had he been here.'
'Oh yes, sir,' said Verity heavily. 'I 'spec he would all right.'
Gowry closed the folder and looked up.
'Two weeks compassionate leave in respect of Mrs Verity's recent distress. Absence to commence at noon today.'
'Sir!'
The dark eyes in the plump red face were nearly brimming with tears of jubilation. Under the sturdy right arm the tall hat was dented by the pressure of excitement as he held it smartly in its place.
Gowry pushed back his chair and stood up. He held out his right hand.
'Oh, damn it,' he said reasonably. 'Don't go round with a swollen head acting like a conquering hero, sergeant. But congratulations! Well done, man!'
Verity stood before the superintendent, as bewildered now as he had ever been after Croaker's reprimands. So much had been given him. But he had still to ask a favour of Gowry, a request which he had promised himself, promised Bella, even promised the soul of Stunning Joe.
'Sir,' he said shamefacedly. ' 'ave the honour to make a request, sir. With respect, sir.'
Gowry sat down again, the lines of his white-whiskered old face suggesting that he sensed ingratitude on Verity's part.
'Request, sergeant?' 'Yessir. For a young person, sir.' Gowry looked at him bleakly. 'Miss Jolly may think herself extremely lucky. . .' 'No, sir! Not 'er, sir. Poor young dancing orphan, sir. Jane Midge that was kept prisoner with Mrs Verity.' 'What about her, sergeant?'
'Well, sir,' said Verity awkwardly. 'She's not old, only fourteen, and she been a real brave soldier. Being an orphan and having to flash her legs in a gaff ain't her fault, sir.'
'Well, sergeant?'
'Well, sir, what it means for her is Mrs Rouncewell, ex-police matron, sir. Steam laundry down Elephant and Castle. I gotta great respect for Mrs Rouncewell, sir, but. . .'
'But what, sergeant?'
'Jane's on'y a pretty child yet, sir,' said Verity firmly. 'She been brave and she done no wrong to speak of. It ain't the place for her, sir, not with persons of fallen virtue. And there's no call for a child like Jane to be birched over and over, or have that opening medicine put down her, same as Ma Rouncewell has to do with hardened creatures, sir.'
'Then come to the point of your request, sergeant.'
'Just this, sir. You being who you are, sir, p'raps you might know of a respectable lady and gentleman that'd be glad of a clean, honest girl to be took in and made useful. She been a faithful girl, sir, as well. Faithful even to Stunning Joe O'Meara in her way.'
Gowry sighed, as if the problem were hopeless, but Verity knew that he had won his point. The superintendent, former cavalry officer on active service, had the old-fashioned strengths and weaknesses of his kind. He would cut his way murderously through a press of dark-skinned enemy in a colonial skirmish. And then he would stand close to tears at the sight of an abandoned child of the batde or a fine horse in its death agonies.
'Mrs Rouncewell ain't took her yet, sir,' said Verity gently. 'She's still in the other room.'
In a moment more Jane Midge stood beside him at Gowry's desk. It was Verity's idea that she should keep on the dancing clothes in which she had been abducted. Gowry glanced up at the cut of her straight brown hair with its narrow slant of fringe, the firm pretty features of her pale face. When she touched her lower lip with her teeth it might equally well have been apprehension or knowing impudence. But the thin silk of her tight harem pants showed all too clearly the muddy bruises left by Jack Strap's belt. Gowry's face tightened with anger at what he saw. Then he looked up gently at her.
'Can you sew, Jane?'
The girl nodded.
'Will you sew for Mrs Gowry? Should you like to be her milliner, Jane? To read to her and keep her company? And perhaps, one day, to learn to play and sing for her?'
It was plain to Verity that Gowry had no clear idea of the proper duties. But the girl curtsied and cried out her answer.
'If you please, sir!'
Verity sighed with satisfaction. He knew his commander well enough to guess his reaction when the sight of such distress was set before him. Of all the couples whom he knew, Superintendent Gowry and his wife were the most likely to bring up the dancing girl in the best way of all, like their own lost daughter.
There was a reverential hush in the little kitchen at Tidy Street as Verity described the interview with Superintendent Gowry. It was Stringfellow who spoke first, after Verity had finished.
'Always told yer,' he said smugly. 'Mr Gowry's a gent. Croaker's not. That's the difference between 'em. Show me a man that's ridden into battle with his men, and I'll show you a gent. That Croaker was nothing but commissariat supplies for the artillery. Any wounds he ever got was in the backside, running away.'
He got up, lolloped over to the cupboard and pulled the cork from a bottle with his teeth. It appeared to contain horse linament but when poured into glasses the smell was more palatable. He raised his own glass to Verity, Bella and Jolly in turn.
' 'ere's to me old sojer. 'ere's to a true brave girl. And 'ere's to the prettiest little nark that the constabulary ever 'ad!'
He drained the glass and refilled it hastily before Bella could speak the unease that was in her gaze. They all drank toasts and then luxuriated in the sense of unaccustomed ease. Two weeks' leave by the sea was a holiday beyond anything which th
ey could have afforded under normal circumstances. Ruth, the servant-maid, and even Jolly, were still bemused by the good fortune which had spread to them as well.
They were still sitting round the wooden table in the kitchen when there was a hammering on the street door. Ruth, her brown eyes widening prettily under her cropped fair curls, scurried to answer it. They heard her voice saying coquettishly: 'I’ll see if Mr Verity and Madam is at 'ome.'
'Mrs Verity!' hissed Verity. 'This gotta stop! She ain't to talk like that! 'alf Paddington Green is laughing its head off over us!'
But Ruth returned with something like an appearance of fright in her soft young face.
' 's a gentleman!' she gasped. 'To see Mr Verity personal!'
There was a sudden bustling about. Verity snatched up his frock-coat and put it on. Then he walked into the little front parlour while Ruth ushered the visitor in. He was a young man dressed in black who made a particular effort at refinement of speech and manners in the presence of humbler families. As though beginning a formal dance he executed a florid little bow in front of Verity.
'Hoskins,' he said solemnly. 'Steward of the Household to 'is Excellency the Earl of Stephen.'
They sat down and Hoskins explained the reason for his visit. Verity was uneasily aware of the shifting floorboards just outside the door and the silent presence of witnesses each pushing for position to overhear what was passing between the two men inside.
'Lord Stephen,' said Hoskins,' 'as the honour to be director of the London and Suburban Bank. A bank what stood to lose almost £10,000 by the late notorious fraud of Mr Kite. Fortuitously, seeing as so much of the money been traced back and recovered, the loss shan't come to even half what it might have been.'
Verity made an agreeable little sound of pleasure at this disclosure, and Hoskins continued.
'In consequence of a felicitous outcome, 'is lordship desires to make a show of appreciation towards your good self and the young person Jolly also instrumental in the matter. To wit, one hundred pounds to yourself and fifty to the young person.'
SV - 05 - Sergeant Verity and the Swell Mob. Page 25
