me arskin’ if you killed ’im?’
‘How could I, as I’ve only just come?’
‘Sez you!’
‘What’s that mean? All right, all right, let’s get on with it! If you didn’t kill him, what are you doing here?’
Now what was the answer to that one? Ben pondered.
‘Come along! Out with it! You’ve been running like a bloody hare—’
‘Well, wasn’t you arter me?’
Ben thought that quite good, but it did not seem to satisfy his interrogator, who thrust his face closer to Ben’s. It was a nasty face, you couldn’t get away from it—and you wanted to get away from it!
‘You’re a queer cove, if ever I’ve seen one,’ grunted the man. ‘Is anybody else after you?’
That was a teaser, but Ben evaded it. ‘Ain’t one enough?’ he retorted. And then to divert further questioning on the point and to clear himself generally, he burst out, ‘’Ave a bit o’ sense! Yer chaised me in ’ere, didn’t yer, so if I’ve on’y jest come in ’ere ’ow could I of ’ad time ter kill that bloke, let alone ’ow I did it and why? Orl right! Now yer know why I’m ’ere, but yer ain’t said yet why you’re ’ere—’
‘I’m here because you’re here, you fool!’ exclaimed the man impatiently. ‘Haven’t you just said yourself I chased you in? Or would the right word be “back”? If you’d been here before you’d have had plenty of time, wouldn’t you?’
‘Yes, and so’d you,’ returned Ben, ‘with nobs on!’
Now, of course Ben knew he had not been here before, but—yus, come ter think of it serious like—he did not know that this unpleasant bushy-browed individual had not. Suppose he had? After all, in regard to the reason for their presences here at this moment, both were lying. Ben was not here through being chased by this man since it was not this man who had chased him. Therefore the man must have accepted Ben’s version for his own convenience, and his presence must be due to some other cause! Lummy, it was a fishy business from the word go! Because—another thing—here was a deader on the floor, and neither of them was making any move to get a policeman!
Suddenly the man’s mood changed. Or seemed to. ‘Don’t let’s lose our wool,’ he said. ‘Let’s find out who this fellow is, shall we? And how about picking up that broken chair?’
He moved forward and began to stoop over the victim of the as yet unsolved tragedy. His large hands groped about the dead man’s clothes. Ben glanced at the broken chair but did not pick it up. A piece of rope lay near it.
‘You wanter be careful,’ Ben warned his companion.
Ben’s mood was changing, also, although he could not decide just what it was changing to or whether the change would last. Bushy Brows had not become any more lovable, but his mood certainly seemed less threatening.
‘What do I want to be careful about?’ asked Bushy Brows. ‘He’s not going to jump up and bite me!’
‘Yer never know—I seen a chicken run abart withaht its ’ead,’ retorted Ben, ‘but I wasn’t thinkin’ o’ that. Wot I meant was—well, seein’ as ’ow this ain’t like jest stealin’, but a bit more serious like, and seein’ as ’ow you and me ain’t done it, sayin’ we ain’t—’
‘Do you know what you’re talking about?’
‘Yes. I’m torkin’ abart not bein’ supposed ter touch the body, that is, not afore—’
Bushy Brows interrupted with a laugh, and then looked at Ben hard.
‘You’re a caution, and no mistake,’ he said. ‘Do you know, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you before!’
‘Tha’s right—nobody ’as,’ agreed Ben.
‘I believe it! In fact, old boy, I’m beginning to think this meeting may turn out a good thing for both of us—but we won’t go too fast, eh? It’s nice and quiet here, and there’s plenty of time, and you’ve only just come in, and I’ve only just come in—that’s how it is, isn’t it?—so we’ve nothing to worry about while I find out what’s in this fellow’s pockets! Have we?’
Nice and quiet—plenty of time—nothing to worry about? Hadn’t they? ‘Tork abart fishy!’ thought Ben, unhappily. ‘Lummy, wot’s this leadin’ ter? I—wunner—?’ He tried to stop wondering, for wondering can be exceedingly troublesome. It leads to thinking—or is it the thinking that leads to the wondering? Whichever way it is, just when you’re wanting peace and rest it comes along and throws a spanner into the works. Gives you—what do they call it?—a sense of responsibility like …
And there was something else that Ben was wondering, though this had nothing to do with Bushy Brows. He was wondering why there was something familiar—or seemed to be—about the dead man on the ground? He’d never seen him before, he’d swear himself pink he hadn’t, and yet—
‘Ah! Here’s something!’ said Bushy Brows.
‘Wot?’ asked Ben.
Bushy Brows did not answer at once. He was counting coins and notes. When he had finished he reported, ‘Five pound eight and six. Would you like the eight and six?’
‘Nah, then, none o’ that!’ replied Ben.
Bushy Brows grinned.
‘You’re not going to tell me, Eric, you’ve never made a bit on the side?’
‘’Oo’s Heric?’
‘He was a good little boy.’
‘Was ’e? Orl right. I’m Heric.’
‘As you like. Then I’m to have the lot?’
‘Oi!’
‘Well?’
‘You better put that back!’
‘If I did, what would be the good of having found it? It’s no good to him any more, is it? Come off it, Eric! We’re getting to know each other, and you can’t pull that stuff on me!’
He grinned again as he pocketed the money.
Getting to know each other? Again Ben wondered. Was this a trick to catch him out? He’d known it played before. A ’tec comes along, mikes yer think ’e’s crooked, cheats yer orf the stright, and ’e’s got yer! Not that anybody had ever got Ben that way, because by that odd kink in his character Ben was straight, but he’d seen it done, and orf goes the poor bloke to the lock-up, and orf goes the ’tec to promotion … Lummy, here was an idea, though! Why shouldn’t he play the trick? Beat Bushy Brows at his own game, if it was a game, and if it wasn’t, see how far he could make him go? Corse, it’d be a bit of a risk if things went wrong, but this bloke on the floor was getting on Ben’s nerves, and ’e must of ’ad a ’orrible time afore ’e got lookin’ like ’e did! Blarst this wunnerin’! Fair blast it! But Ben knew he would not
