“Just a moment,” said Mr. Sarton, interrupting the prisoner. ”How long had you been there? How much ale had you drunk?”
”That’s a little hard to say, sir. What’s today? What day of the week?”
“Why, it is Thursday.” Mr. Sarton turned to his clerk. ”Is it not?” The clerk muttered something in the affirmative.
“Well, if it’s Thursday,” said the spokesman for the three, ”then we was in there since Tuesday.”
“Tuesday? You mean you were drinking ale in that place for two days?”
“Aw, it wasn’t so bad. Every once in a while they’d come through and sweep it out, and if we needed a lie-down, there was always a whore to oblige. You can ask the innkeeper if it wasn’t just so. His name’s Harley.”
Mr. Sarton, taking note of Clarissa’s presence beside Sir John, gave him a warning: ”I shall ask you, Mr. Strong, to watch your language, for there is a child present in the courtroom. That is the only warning I shall give. If you err again in that way, I shall hold you in contempt of my court. Is that understood?”
“Yes sir,” said he.
“Continue.”
“Well, in comes this one-armed cod, and, without so much as a by-your-leave, he sits right down at the bar. And then he-”
“Let me interrupt,” said Mr. Sarton. ”There was an empty place at the bar?”
“There was, yes sir.”
“And you expected him to ask your permission before he took it?”
“Well, an’t that the proper way? I mean, there was an empty place at the bar, true enough-in fact, there was more than one-but there might not’ve been. There mighta been one more of us and him gone off to take a-” He caught himself just in time. ”To answer one of nature’s calls, if you get my meaning, sir.”
“Indeed I do. Continue.”
“Well, he was friendly enough in his way, I s’pose. He offered to buy a round of ale for us, and we accepted his offer. He said he’d come to Deal lookin’ for work, and then he began askin’ all these questions.”
“Such as?”
“Oh, he wanted to know such things as, who were we, and what did we do, and did we think there was any chance for a job in our line of work. And we didn’t like it.”
“Why not? Those seem innocently enough intended to me.”
“Maybe so, sir, but it wasn’t what the questions were as how he asked them.”
“And how did he ask them?”
“Well, he asked them in such a way like he really expected an answer.”
“Isn’t that how it’s usually done? Isn’t that how I am putting questions to you now?”
“Yes sir, that’s just it, y’see. He was askin’ questions like it was our duty to answer them, just like it’s our duty to answer your questions now.”
“I understand. Continue.”
“Well, sir, we just decided we’d go and leave him alone with all his questions. We drank up, and we left.”
“Then how did this great brawl occur?”
“I was gettin’ to that. We were standin’ round outside, the three of us, when out comes this one-armed cod, and he was just askin’ for a fight.”
“You mean that literally? He asked to fight you three?”
“No sir, he wasn’t even that proper about it. He just up and attacked us.”
“He attacked all three of you?”
“You might say so, sir. Anyways, he didn’t fight fair. He did a lot of head-butting and kicking and suchlike, not the kind of fighting I’d call fair. And … well … that’s our story of how it happened. An’t it boys?”
He looked round him at his two companions. They grunted, nodded, and gave their assent.
”All right, Mr. Strong, you may be seated,” said Mr. Sarton. He turned to his clerk and asked a whispered question. In return, he received a response spoken just as quietly. ”Now, Mr. Perkins, if you will please, give us your side of the matter.”
Constable Perkins rose and came forward so that he stood just opposite Mr. Sarton with only the table between them. He took a deep breath and began:
“In its general outline, sir, I cannot take exception to what you have heard from Mr. Strong just now. Yet it’s in the details that my version differs. Let me say, first of all, that I’m a native of these parts. I grew up here and worked on farms hereabouts till I was enlisted in the Army. I saw service in the American colonies during the war with the French after which I’ve gone through life with but half an arm here on the left side. This has made it hard for me to get and keep work. I tried London. I thought I might try where I was born in.”
At this point he paused, apparently to organize his thoughts. Mr. Perkins had a good head upon his shoulders, and when called upon, could deliver testimony as well or better than any of the Bow Street Runners. Here he was called upon to testify in his own behalf. So far he was making a good job of it.
“Now that you have explained your presence here in Deal,” said Mr. Sarton, ”let us go quickly to your entrance into the Turk’s Head and your meeting with the three men seated behind you.”
“As you say, sir. I had been asking about work at every inn in town. I had heard that Alfred Square was a most lively part of town, and the Turk’s Head, I’d heard, was the liveliest place of all. So I come to Alfred Square-oh, about eleven o’clock it must’ve been, not yet midnight, anyways. Though I’d drunk a little ale, asking at one place and then another, I was still sober. You may take my word on that, sir. I headed into the Turk’s Head, and I saw that all the tables were filled up, but there was plenty of room at the bar-just these three behind me sitting there. There were plenty of empty places there. Now, I should’ve taken that as a caution, shouldn’t I? If these three were sitting all by themselves like that, must be because nobody wanted to be near them. I should’ve taken a hint that they were troublemakers-but I didn’t.
“Instead, I took a place right nearby, ordered an ale and asked if I might buy them another of what they were drinking. They were willing enough to accept an ale from me but not to answer my questions-or so it seemed to me. For when I asked how it was they earned their bread, a common enough question amongst those wishin’ to have a bit of talk over their ale, there was a bit of wrangling over how it should be described. Finally, him who addressed you, sir, came up with a phrase that seemed to satisfy them all. He said, ‘You might say we was casual laborers.’ I said they seemed to be doing well at it, for they had already boasted they’d been drinking at the Turk for two days running. ‘But,’ I put it to them, ‘in what trade are you casual laborers? Would there be work for me in it?’ At that they commenced to laughing most uproariously. When I asked what I had said that struck them as so funny, this man, Samson Strong, he told me they was in the owling trade, and he asked me, did I know what that was. I told him being from round Deal I had a pretty good idea. Then he offered me what I can only call a sneer, and he asked if I really thought there was likely to be any work for a one-armed man in the owling trade. Then one of the other two-I cannot say which-he told me, ‘Try again when you finished growing that other arm.’ That struck them as the funniest thing that had yet been said. To be honest, sir, I do not take kindly to such remarks regardin’ my disability. And so I fear I made some hasty remarks which I would rather not repeat here.”
“And why would you rather not?” asked Mr. Sarton.
“Well,” said Mr. Perkins, ”you already cautioned the other fella about usin’ improper language in this court because of the presence of children and all. I’m afraid all of what I had to say to them was in suchlike language.”
“I see, but give us some idea of it, will you? What-without being exact-did you say approximately?”
“All right, sir, I would say that the burden of it was that I, with my one arm, was a better man than any one of them-no, better than all three of them.”
“Was this issued in the way of a challenge?”
“I don’t think so, sir. It was more like a statement of fact.”
In
spite of himself, the magistrate smiled at that. ”Continue.”
“Well, right then the three of them put their heads together and commenced to whispering amongst themselves. Then, making a few nasty remarks and a lewd gesture or two, they walked out of the Turk’s Head, and I thought to myself, ‘Good riddance!’ Well, I sat about long enough to finish my ale and decided it was time to leave. Well sir, I get outside, and I find them waiting for me. One of them says, ‘We’ll just see if you’re as good as you think you are.’ And in all modesty, sir, I do believe I proved myself to them. Just one more thing: I suppose I did not fight fair-or let’s say I did not fight usual. But not havin’ but one arm, I believe I’m entitled to a little leeway in that way. Yes, I did butt, and yes, I did kick-in truth, I’m quite good at kicking-but there was three of them and just one of me.”
“You may sit down, Mr. Perkins. Constable Trotter, will you come forward, please?”
The constable did as his chief bade him to do; he took his place before him, his feet well planted, his hat tucked under his arm.
“Will you give me your account of it from the time you came upon the scene?”
“Yes sir.” He cleared his throat and began his tale. In truth, he had not much to tell, for by the time he had come along, the three troublemakers from the Turk’s Head were all down upon the pavement, moaning in pain or senselessly silent. In fact, Constable Trotter might have taken Mr. Perkins to be one of the crowd of onlookers who had gathered outside the Turk’s Head, except that when one of the trio shifted and attempted to rise, ”the one-armed man” (as the constable described him) stepped forward and delivered him a swift kick in the backside. Having seen this, he seized Mr. Perkins by the shoulder and, his club at the ready, asked him if he were the party responsible for this.
Now to quote Constable Trotter: ”He cheerfully responded that he was, and that he’d been keeping them quiet, just waiting for me to come along. He also offered diverse weapons which, he said, he had taken from them: knives, iron knuckles, and suchlike. These I’ve shown you, and you have before you now.”
“And so he gave you no trouble?” asked Mr. Sarton.
“Oh no, sir, none at all-quite the opposite. He got them on their feet so’s I could put the hand-irons on them. I only had two sets with me, so I cuffed them each-to-each, and told him to come along, too. And he did-without so much as a word in argument.”
As it developed, all were marched off to the Good King George, which served the magistrate as a gaol, when needed. I later learned that the inn had been put to this use since the old gaol had burned down near a year before. The town fathers had not yet found money to build another. The three from the Turk’s Head were locked up in a single room; since Mr. Perkins was already a registered guest, he simply retired to his assigned room and slept the night in the bed he’d grown used to. And here he was now before the magistrate, about to be judged along with his victims.
Mr. Sarton dismissed the constable and instructed all four to come before him, which they did. ”Now,” said he, ”as to the charges against you three, by your own admission you were drunk-nor should I wonder at that, for after all, two days of continuous drinking will indeed produce such a result! And so I fine you ten shillings each on that charge. As for brawling, certainly you are guilty of it. Nonetheless, you suffered so by your wrongdoing that it would be excessive to fine you in addition to what you have already paid in bruises and bumps. So if you will step over and pay the court clerk to the amount of ten shillings each, you may then leave.”
The three exchanged glances. Clearly, they were pleased by what they had heard. They hastened to the clerk, and each made a separate pile of coins before him. By the time I might have counted to a hundred, they were gone.
“Now, Mr. Perkins, if you will step forward, let us discuss your case. I am here in rather an awkward position. I tend to believe your story in its details and not the one told by Mr. Samson Strong. You see, my usual method is to listen to both sides and make a reckoning somewhere between the two. I have never supposed that when two stories were told me which covered the same events that one was completely true and the other completely without truth-that is, until now. I tend to accept your version of it absolutely-and that for a couple of reasons. First of all, I know those men are capable of just what you describe. I have heard it said often that they were in the owling trade, as they told you. And drunkards they may be, but they are dangerous men, and you had best keep an eye out the back of your head for them, for at your back is where the next attack will come.” At that point he paused.
“Yes sir,” said Mr. Perkins. ”I’ll do that, sir.”
“And secondly, I tend to accept what you tell me because it is you doing the telling.”
“How’s that, sir?”
“Simple enough. I consider myself a fair judge of character, and yours impresses me. I should be very surprised if I were to find that you had lied to me in the details, as you call them-and disappointed, too. In short, I like the way you conduct yourself. And so, Mr. Perkins, I dismiss the charges against you. You gave me your word that you were not drunk when you entered the Turk’s Head, and I accept your word on that. And as for the charge of brawling, what you told me-and what I heard from Constable Trotter-convinces me that you were defending yourself against an unprovoked attack. And so, sir, you are free to go. But before you do, I wonder if you would mind stepping closer that we might discuss a confidential matter.”
Mr. Perkins hesitated, perhaps as puzzled by the request as I was, but then he came forward and leaned across the table. What passed between them then came to us only as unintelligible murmurings. Their conference did not last long-a minute or two at most-and when it concluded, Mr. Perkins came erect once more and bobbed his head in a little bow, which was for him quite unusual. He turned round then and started for the door, but as he passed near to us, he rolled his eyes, indicating (to me at least) that he had just been given a great surprise.
I leaned to my left and whispered this into Sir John’s ear. He, in turn, gave a rub to his chin, and whispered to me, ”Catch him up and tell him to wait until I arrive. Then come and fetch me.”
I scrambled past Sir John and Clarissa and to the door-then into the hall and out the door to the street. I need not have hurried so, for I found Mr. Perkins just beyond the door.
“Ah, Jeremy lad, have I something to tell you!”
“And I want to hear it, but so does Sir John. Wait for us.” He nodded his assent and moved out of sight of the windows.
“We’ll be back soon as ever we can,” said I to him.
Re-entering, I found Sir John in conversation with Mr. Sarton. Clarissa stood close beside them. I perceived after a moment that Clarissa was about to be interrogated by Mr. Sarton regarding her discovery of the as-yet-unnamed corpus. Sir John was taking his leave, promising to return within the half of an hour.
“Jeremy has promised to take me for a walk,” said he, ”that I might smell the sea air. Nothing clears a man’s head like the smell of the sea. Don’t you find it so, Mr. Sarton?”
“In half of an hour then, sir. Our guest should be coming along at about that time.”
I wondered at that, but so eager was I to learn Mr. Perkins’s secret that I did not trouble Sir John once we were outside. Having spied our friend at the end of Middle Street, where he had withdrawn, we hastened to him. Yet I noticed that Sir John was having a bit of difficulty keeping up the pace he himself had set.
“Is your hip troubling you, sir?” I asked him.
“A bit, but that is my affair, Jeremy. I’ll not have you nagging at me like Lady Kate.”
“As you say, sir.”
We met Mr. Perkins at a point halfway to the corner of the street. He was as eager to tell Sir John as he had been only minutes before to tell me.
“I’ve no intention of guessing, Mr. Perkins, for you will surely tell me.”
“He offered me a job.”
“He what?”
“Mr. S
arton offered me a place as constable here in Deal.”
“Well,” said Sir John, ”what did you say? Did you accept?”
“I said I would have to think about it. He said that he understood that, right enough, and if I wished to talk about it, he would be available from nine o’clock on. I told him again I’d think about it.”
“Why did you say that? What did you mean?”
“I had no way of knowing what you would want me to do.”
Sir John’s forehead wrinkled in a frown as he considered the matter for a moment. ”In all truth, I do not understand you, Mr. Perkins. You are one of the best, if not the best, of all my constables. I would say as much to any who asked me. Yet I can certainly understand that you might wish to return to these parts since you grew up here. I would in no wise hinder you in that.”
“But that an’t it, sir. That an’t it at all. When I said I didn’t know what you’d want me to do, I meant I didn’t know how it would fit into your plans. After all, you sent me out to gather some information on the owling trade hereabouts. I thought you might want me to keep on finding out what I could, or if not, maybe you’d like me to start acting as your bodyguard, as was originally discussed by us.”
“I must admit,” said Sir John, ”that things have changed a bit.”
“In what way?”
“Well, in a number of ways. Much has happened since you met with Jeremy yesterday noon. What say, lad?” said Sir John to me. ”Shall we bring Mr. Perkins to date?”
Together we tried. Sir John provided the framework, and I filled in the details. We told first of the examination of the body by Mr. Sarton, and of the clever deduction he had put forth regarding the chalk, which proved, to our satisfaction, that the body had been moved from some other place. Then did I provide Clarissa’s tale of the original discovery of the body near the entrance to the chalk mine.
“Ah,” said Mr. Perkins, ”I’d like to see what’s in that mine.”
“So would we,” said I.
“Most curious of all,” said Sir John, ”it seems that they locked Clarissa in her room. I can only suppose that it was done to keep her away from Mr. Sarton after they had moved the body from where she had found it. They do seem to be trying to keep that chalk mine a secret.”
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