Chapter 32 Chapter Thirty-One

(Emergency.) "Who is it?" Brittles untied the chain, opened the door a crack, blocked the candlelight with his hand, and looked out. "Open the door," someone from outside replied, "We are the police officers from Bowu Street, and we received your call today." Hearing these words, Brittles felt more relieved, he opened the door wide, and a fat man in a coat appeared in front of him. The man wiped his shoes on the cleaning mat without saying a word, and walked away calmly. When you come in, it's like you're at your own home. "Send a man out and get my chap off, do you hear, young man?" said the sergeant. "He's out there tending the horses. Do you have a garage here where you can drive the car in for five minutes and ten minutes? "

Brittles answered in the affirmative and pointed to the outside of the house. The fat man turned back to the garden gate and helped his companions drive the carriage in. Brittles showed great admiration and took care of them. Bright.They settled the car, went back to the house, and were let into a living room again.The two detectives took off their coats and hats, and this revealed the truth. The person who knocked on the door was of medium build, with a strong physique, about fifty years old, with black and shiny hair cut very short, with half sideburns, a round face, and a pair of alert eyes.The other, red-haired, bony and well-booted, was an unflattering look; an upturned nose looked sinister.

"Tell you masters that Blathers and Dafoe are here, do you hear me?" The stronger one wiped his hair and put a pair of handcuffs on the table. "Oh. Good evening, sir. May I speak to you in private, if you wish?" The words were addressed to Mr. Rothbury, who had just appeared.The gentleman gestured to Brittles to step back, led the two ladies in, and shut the door behind him. "This is the mistress of the house," said Mr. Rosebery, pointing to Mrs. Maylie. Mr. Blathers bowed.His master invited him to sit down, and he put his hat on the floor, seated himself in a chair, and beckoned Dafoe to do the same.The latter gentleman seemed not very familiar with the rules of high society, or felt too uncomfortable in this situation-the two must be the one-the muscles of his limbs twitched for a while, just sat down, and hurriedly moved his hands and feet. Put the tip of the stick in your mouth.

"Well, about this robbery here, sir," said Blathers, "what are the details?" Mr. Rosbery, evidently eager to gain time, went through the events in great detail and added a great deal of nonsense, while Mr. Blathers and Mr. Dafoe looked confident and nodded to each other now and then. "Of course, I can't say for sure until I get to the bottom of the matter," said Blathers, "but at the moment it's my opinion—and I can go so far—that it wasn't the rednecks who did it." , um, Dafoe?" "Of course not," Dafoe replied. "Now, for the sake of the two ladies, let me clarify the word redneck, and I understand you to mean that this attack was not the work of rednecks, is it?" said Rosbury, with a hint of a smile.

"Well, sir," replied Blathers, "that's all about the robbery, isn't it?" "That's all," replied the doctor. "Well, what's the matter with people talking about a baby here?" said Blathers. "Nothing at all," replied the doctor. "It's just a frightened servant's fancy that he was involved in the attempted robbery. Nonsense, sheer nonsense." "If that's the case, it's easy to handle." Dafoe added. "He's quite right," Blathers nodded approvingly, fiddling with the handcuffs as if they were a pair of castanets. "What was the boy's name? What did he say about his condition? Where did he come from? Didn't he fall from the sky, sir?"

"Of course not," replied the doctor, glancing nervously at the two ladies. "I know his whole history, and we can talk about it later. I think you'd be happy to go and see where the thieves went first?" "Nevertheless," replied Mr. Blathers, "we'd better survey the scene first, and then examine the servants. That's the old case." They got the lights ready at once, and Mr. Blathers and Mr. Dafoe, accompanied by the local policeman, Brittles, Giles, and all the rest, went to the cabin at the end of the passage, and from Looked out the window, then walked across the grass and looked in through the window.After this, a candle was held up to inspect the shutters, then a lantern was used to inspect the tracks, and a pitchfork was prodded in the bushes.After the work was done, all the audience held their breath and watched them return to the villa.Mr. Giles and Brittles were ordered to reprise their parts in the thriller of the night before, and they performed at least six or seven times.There was only one major plot that contradicted itself in the first time, and there were only a dozen or so in the last time.With this result, Blathers and Dafoe went out into a long consultation with a degree of secrecy and seriousness compared with the consultations of many eminent physicians in the most complicated cases. It's just a child's play.

Meanwhile the doctor paced restlessly up and down the adjoining room, while Mrs. Maylie and Ruth watched him anxiously. "It's a headache," he said, stopping after trotting in countless circles. "I just can't do anything." "No," said Ruth, "if the whole history of the poor boy was told to these people, it should get him exonerated." "I doubt it, my dear lady," said the doctor, shaking his head. "I don't think he'll be pardoned, either by telling them or by telling a higher judge. In a word, they'll say, what's his business? A A runaway kid. Judging by worldly reasons and possibilities alone, his story is highly suspicious."

"Do you believe it or not, seriously?" Ruth stopped him. "I believe that, strange as the story is, I may have been an old fool in doing so," replied the doctor. "At any rate, it would be inappropriate to tell such a story to a seasoned policeman." "Why not?" Ruth asked. "Because, my dear judge," replied the doctor, "because there is much shame in the matter from their point of view. The boy can prove only what appears to be against him, but not On the plus side. These bastards, they'll ask what's the reason, what's the reason, don't believe anything. According to his own account, you see, he used to hang out with a gang of thieves for a while on suspicion of Pickpocketed a gentleman's wallet and entered the police station. Then he was forcibly abducted and taken from the gentleman's house to a place where he could neither say anything nor point out the situation there. Not even the faintest recollection. Those people seemed to take him as a treasure, and brought him to Jets, whether he wanted to or not, through a window, planning to rob a house. Next, just as he He was about to wake up the people in the house, about to do this thing that would clear him of all crimes, when a goddam head waiter rushed out halfway and shot him. He seems to be accumulating virtue for himself. You still don't understand all this?"

"Of course I understand," Ruth couldn't help smiling seeing the doctor's anxious look. "Still, I don't see anything in it to convict the poor boy." "No," replied the doctor, "of course not. God bless you women with discerning eyes. Your eyes see only one side of any problem, good or bad, that is, always fixate on the first what's in front of you." After delivering this experience, the doctor put his hands in his pockets and began pacing up and down the room even more rapidly than before. "The more I think about it," said the doctor, "the more it seems to me that if we tell these people the whole story of this boy, we're going to have a lot of trouble. I'm sure no one will believe it. How about it, if you just keep procrastinating and publicizing all possible doubts, your charity plan to save him from the sea of ​​suffering will still encounter great obstacles."

"Oh. What then?" cried Ruth. "My God, my God! What are they doing with these people?" "Yes, what are you doing here!" exclaimed Mrs. Maylie. "After all, I wish they hadn't come here." "It seems to me," said Mr. Rosbery, sitting down calmly, looking as if he were going to risk it all, "that we'll just have the audacity to try and see through.Our purpose is noble, and it is justifiable for us to do so. The child has obvious symptoms of fever, so it is not appropriate to talk too much. This is a great blessing.We must make full use of them, and if we do not solve the problem, we have done our best.Come in. "

"Okay, sir," Blathers entered the room, followed by his colleague, he didn't bother to say more, and closed the door firmly first. "This was not a premeditated incident." "What the hell premeditated sexual incident?" The doctor was very impatient. "Ladies," said Blathers, turning to the two ladies, as if sympathizing with their ignorance, and expressing contempt for the doctor's ignorance, "we call a premeditated robbery when someone is involved." "No one suspects them in this case," said Mrs. Maylie. "It is very likely, ma'am," replied Blathers, "that it is on that account that they may have attended." "It's more probable from the presentation," Dafoe said. "We found it done by a Londoner," Blathers went on to report, "because the means were first-class." "Very beautiful indeed," Dafoe commented softly. "There were two persons involved in the matter," went on Blathers, "and they had a small child with them, as you can see from the size of the windows. That's all for now. We'll go and see where you've settled. This kid upstairs, if I can." "Maybe they'd better have something to drink first, Mrs. Maylie?" The doctor looked bright, as if he had a new idea. "Oh! Really!" Ruth cried eagerly, "As long as the two of you want to, we can do it right away." "Well, miss, thank you." Blathers said, lifting his sleeve and wiping his mouth. "It's a job to dry your mouth. Whatever you want, miss. Don't burden you too much." "How about something?" asked the doctor, following the young lady to the cupboard. "A little wine, sir, if it is at all necessary," replied Blathers. "It is very cold from London, ma'am, and I have always found wine to be very warming." This interesting observation was addressed to Mrs. Maylie, who listened with great humility.While these words were being spoken, the doctor slipped out of the room. "Ah!" said Mr. Blathers, instead of holding the glass by the stem, he grasped the bottom of the glass with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand, leaning against his chest. "Ladies, I've seen a lot in this business." "Brathers, that was the robbery in the alley near Edmonton." Mr. Dafoe tried to help his colleagues recall. "It's kind of like this time, isn't it?" echoed Mr. Blathers. "That time Chicoweed did it. He did it." "You're always blaming him," Dafoe replied. "That's Pate the Great, and I tell you, the chimney has nothing to do with it, like me." "Damn you!" said Mr. Blathers. "What do you know? Do you remember that time when money was robbed from the chimney? It was astonishing. Better than anything I've ever read." The novels are wonderful." "What's the matter?" Ruth asked impatiently, encouraging any sign of cheerfulness in the two unwelcome guests. "It was a robbery, miss, which was hardly ever made out," said Blathers. "There was a Chimney Chicoweed—" "The chimney means the big nose, miss," interposed Dafoe. "Of course Miss knows, doesn't she?" demanded Blathers. "Why do you keep interrupting, man. There's a Chimney Chickweed, Miss, who keeps a tavern over the Battle Bridge. He has a There is a basement where many young men like to go to watch cockfights and badger hunting. I have seen a lot, and it took a lot of thinking to arrange these pastimes. At that time, he hadn't joined any hall yet. One night he was robbed of three hundred and twenty-seven guineas in a canvas bag, stolen from his bedroom in the middle of the night by a tall man with a black blindfold, who was hiding under his bed, After he got it, he jumped out of the window, which was only one floor high. His hand was very sharp, but the chimney was also very sharp. He woke up when he heard the noise, jumped out of bed, and shot him with a large-caliber short gun. The neighbors were alarmed. They immediately shouted and shouted. Looking around, they found that the chimney had hit the robber, and there were bloodstains all the way to a fence far, far away. Not to be seen. Anyway, he's gone with the cash. And the name of Mr. Chicoweed, a licensed liquor merchant, appears in the Gazette with other bankrupts. Relief of all kinds, Annuity, I don't know how much, it's all done for the poor man. He lost the money this time, and he was very depressed. He wandered around the street for three or four days, pulling his hair desperately, and many people Fearing that he would kill himself. One day he hurried into the station and talked for a while with the magistrate behind closed doors, after which the magistrate rang the bell and called Jem Spence went in (Jem was a good constable) and ordered him to assist Mr. Chicoweed in arresting the man who had robbed his house. 'I saw him, Scout,' said Chicoweed, 'he came yesterday morning from I walk past my house.''Then why don't you go up and get him?' said Spies. Said the guy, 'But we'll catch him. Because he walked by again between ten and eleven o'clock at night.' Speech put a clean linen in his pocket and a Put the comb and leave, maybe he will have to stay for a day or two. He hid behind a small red curtain in that tavern, and he didn't even take off his hat. As long as he said hello, he could rush up immediately. Night Deep down, he was smoking his pipe, when suddenly Chicoweed yelled: 'Here it is! Thief! Murder!' Jem Space rushed out and saw Chicoweed walking Shouting, running like hell down the street. Spyce gave chase. Chicoweed kept running, and people surrounded him, everyone yelling 'Stop the thief!' Chicoweed kept going Shouting like crazy. Spies just turned a corner, but he couldn't see anyone else. Turn around quickly. When he saw a group of people there, he plunged in: "Which one is a thief?" Damn it,' said Chicoweed, 'I let him go again.' It was a strange thing, but there was no one to be seen, and they went back to the tavern. The old place, from behind the curtainHe kept looking out, just to find a tall man with a black eyepatch, and his own eyes hurt from seeing it.In the end, he had to close his eyes to relax for a while.At that moment he heard Chicoweed yell: 'Here he is! ' He rushed up again, and Chicoweed was half a block away, twice as far as yesterday, and the man was gone again.After a while or two of this, half of the neighbors believed that it was the devil who robbed Mr. Chicoweed, and that the devil kept teasing him afterwards, and the other half said that poor Mr. Chicoweed had died because of his grief. Become crazy. " "What does Jim Space say?" asked the doctor, returning to the room as soon as the story began. "Jem Spyce," continued the Inspector, "for a long time he said nothing, and listened to everything, though it was invisible to others, which proved that he knew his trade well. But, He went into the bar one morning, pulled out his snuffbox, and said, 'Chicoweed, I've found the robber this time.' 'Really,' said Chicoweed, 'well, I My dear Spyce, I'd be willing to die if it would get me revenge. Oh, my dear Spyce, where's that scoundrel?' 'Here,' said Master Spyce, asking if he'd come. A pinch of snuff, 'Stop that. You did it yourself.' It was he who did it, and he got a lot of money for it. If he hadn't acted too much, no one would have looked into it. Come out, that's another matter," said Blathers, putting down his glass and rattling the handcuffs. "That's wonderful, really," said the doctor bluntly. "Now, if it's convenient for you two, you can go upstairs." "At your convenience, sir," retorted Blathers.The two detectives, keeping pace with each other, followed Mr. Rosbery up the stairs to Oliver's bedroom, Mr. Giles leading the way, holding a candle. Oliver had been dozing off, but he seemed to be getting worse, and was even hotter than when he first appeared.The doctor helped him up on the bed and sat for a few minutes.He stared at the two strangers, and had no idea what was going on—indeed, he didn't seem to remember where he was or what had happened. "This boy," said Mr. Rosebery, mildly and enthusiastically, "because of his naughtiness, this boy broke into the back yard, which is the yard of Mr. What is it, and was accidentally wounded by a spring gun?" Well, came to this family this morning for help, but was immediately detained and abused by the gentleman holding the candle, what a whim he is. As a doctor, I can attest that the gentleman has put the child's Lives are in extreme danger." After listening to this introduction to Mr. Giles, Mr. Blathers and Mr. Dafoe stared at him intently.The bewildered foreman stared blankly at the two detectives, then turned his eyes to Oliver, and from Oliver to Mr. Rothberleigh, with a mixture of panic and perplexity that was ridiculous. "You don't mean to deny it, I'm afraid?" said the doctor, gently relocating Oliver. "It's all out of—goodness of mind, sir," replied Giles, "that I really thought it was the boy, or I wouldn't have had any trouble with him. I'm not unkind, sir. " "What kind of boy do you think it is?" asked the veteran detective. "A child brought by robbers, sir," replied Giles, "they—they must have a child." "Oh. Do you still think so?" asked Blathers. "Think what, now?" Kyles replied, looking at the interrogator foolishly. "You idiot, think it's the same kid, don't you?" Blathers grew impatient. "I don't know, I really don't know," Kyles said with a sad face, "I can't guarantee it's him." "And what do you think it is?" asked Blathers. "I don't know what to make of it," answered poor Giles, "I don't think it's the boy, really, I'm almost sure it isn't at all. It can't be, you know." "Is this man drunk, sir?" asked Blathers, turning to the doctor. "What a fool, you," said Dafoe, addressing Mr. Giles with the utmost contempt. During this brief conversation, Mr. Rothbury, who had been taking the patient's pulse, rose from his chair by the bed, and said that if the two police officers had any doubts on the subject, they might as well go to the next room. , called Brittles to ask. They accepted the proposal, went into the next room, and Mr. Brittles was called in, and himself and his respected superiors were thus plunged into such a strange labyrinth of contradictions and impossibilities. Apart from proving that he himself was extremely dizzy, he couldn't prove anything.True enough, he claimed he would not have recognized the real thief if he had been called to him immediately.He only took Oliver for him, both because Mr. Giles said it was him, and because Mr. Giles had confessed in the kitchen five minutes earlier that he was beginning to feel very worried that he might be being too rash. A little bit. Amongst many fanciful conjectures, the question was raised whether Mr. Giles had indeed shot anyone, after examining the other pistol which was paired with the one which he had fired the night before. It was rather impressive to find that, apart from gunpowder and brown paper plugs, nothing more lethal had been fitted.The only exception was the doctor, since he had just pulled the pellet out about ten minutes before.That being said, no one can match the impression he left on Mr. Giles.After hours of agonizing over the fear that he had mortally wounded a fellow man, he seized on this new idea with such eagerness that it was a treasure.In the end, the two police officers did not think too much about Oliver, and they left the Jets policeman to spend the night in the town by themselves, and agreed to come back next morning. In the early morning of the next day, news came that two men and a child had been arrested the night before for suspicious behaviour, and were taken to Kingston jail.The gentlemen Blathers and Dafoe went to Kingston for this purpose.It was found that the so-called suspicious behavior boiled down to the fact that they were found sleeping under a hay bales--a major crime, but punishable only by imprisonment, according to the benevolent point of view of English law and the The fact of his fraternity towards all the subjects of the kingdom, in the absence of other evidence, is not sufficient to justify the death penalty for the sleeper, or sleepers, for a night robbery by violence .The two gentlemen, Blathers and Dafoe, had to go away empty-handed. In short, after several further inquiries, and at great difficulty, the justice of the peace readily agreed to bail Oliver under the joint names of Mrs. Maylie and Mr. Rosbery, subject to his attendance.Blathers and Dafoe returned to London with a reward of two guineas, but they had different ideas of the object of their journey.The latter gentleman looked at the whole situation, thought it over and over again, and was inclined to believe that this attempted night-time burglary was the work of the master Pate.The former was equally inclined to attribute the whole credit to the great Mr. Chicoweed, the great smoker. At this time, under the concerted care of Mrs. Maylie, Ruth and the kind-hearted Mr. Rosebery, Oliver's body is recovering day by day.If fervent prayers from the heart, brimming with gratitude, ever reach heaven—otherwise what else would they pray—the blessings that this orphan prayed for them have infiltrated their hearts in the form of peace and joy. .