The Betrayal of John Fordham

Now, I do not profess to be an expert in handwriting, but placing F. Lambert's letter by the side of Maxwell's, which I had taken from John Fordham's desk, a certain resemblance (by no means perfect) forced itself upon my attention. Accompanied by the agent, I went to the office of an expert, who partially confirmed my suspicion, but declined to pledge himself to it without a more minute examination. I left the letters with him, and directed him to forward them to London with his report. This was one of the clues I obtained during my brief stay in Liverpool. The more important one (which led to a startling result) was obtained in the following manner:

On our way from the office of the expert in handwriting to that of the agent, the latter mentioned that, although he had seen Mr. Mollison only once, a clerk in his employ had met him in the street after the house was taken. Without delay I interviewed this clerk, who admitted that he had seen Mr. Mollison a fortnight after the agreement was signed. Having taken no particular notice of that gentleman, he could furnish me with no better description of him than his master had supplied, except that he looked like a gentleman.

"Which was more than the man who was with him did," he added.

"Oh," I said, "he was not alone?"

"No," was the reply, "he was walking with a friend."

"With a friend?" I said. "Though one was a gentleman and the other was not?"

"Well, I suppose they were friends, because they were laughing at something."

"What did the other man look like?"

"A common sort of man; but he was dressed well enough. I can't say he seemed easy in his clothes."

"What made you notice him particularly?"

"As I came up to them Mr. Mollison said, 'You did it cleverly, Jack.' 'Oh, I can show 'em a trick or two,' said the man he called Jack; and then they burst out laughing. That made me turn round and look at the clever one."

"What did you notice in him?"

"That his face was pock-marked, and that he had a club foot."

"Was he tall or short?"

"Short."

"Did they see you looking at them?"

"I think so, because just then they turned the other way."

"And did you not follow them?"

"What should I follow them for?"

I pressed him hard, but he could tell me nothing more.

All the way back to London my thoughts ran chiefly on this club-footed, pock-marked Jack. Such a business as mine brings a man into queer company, and, without boasting, I may say that I am acquainted with half the bad characters in London. Some years ago I was a detective in the police force, but thinking I could do better, I said good-bye to Scotland Yard, and started a private office of my own. I like a free hand, and I got it and have done well with it.

Jack. With a club foot. A short man, who did not seem easy in good clothes. His face pock-marked. What better marks of identification could a detective desire? I was on the threshold of discovery, and yet some perverse streak kept me from seeing it. Not till the train was a mile from St. Pancras did I suddenly cry aloud – for all the world as though the name flashed itself out on one of the advertisements in the carriage – "Jack Skinner!"

Yes, Jack Skinner. He answered the description perfectly. He was short, he was pock-marked, he had a club foot, he was accustomed to wear fustian. I was really annoyed with myself that I had not thought of him at once. But it happens so sometimes.

Jack was his proper name. I dare say. Skinner was a nickname, bestowed upon him for certain peculiarities by which he was distinguished. The house-agent's clerk heard him say, "I can show 'em a trick or two." I should think he could. No man better. But for all that, he hadn't done any good for himself. Jack and I were old friends. I nicked him once as clean as a whistle, and got him three months. "You're too much for me, guv'nor," he said with a grin. He had a wholesome fear of me, but it was a long time since I had set eyes on him.

The board was before me, with a lot of pieces on it. My next move was to hunt Jack down. I will not waste time by relating how I did it. A fortnight it took me before I had him under my thumb. I don't mind confessing (I didn't tell him as much) that I was not prepared for the disclosures he made. They took me fairly by surprise, and let a lot of light upon the Rye Street Mystery.

I shall let Jack speak for himself. The story he related shall be told in his own words.

PART III

CHAPTER XXVIII.

JACK SKINNER MAKES A STATEMENT

Look 'ere. It ain't a plant, is it? I'm a bad lot, I know, about as bad as they make 'em, but when it comes to committin' a murder, it ain't in me to do it. If I 'ad the 'eart to kill a man, I ain't got the pluck – Wot's that yer say? I 'ad a 'and in it? I'll take my oath on my mother's Bible I 'adn't. I don't remember my mother – I wos chucked on the world wery young, guv'nor – and I don't know as she ever 'ad a Bible, but that don't make no difference, do it? If she did 'ave a Bible, and it was afore me now, I'd take my oath on it. I can't speak fairer nor that, can I? I wos there – I don't deny I wos there when it wos done but I 'adn't no more to do with it than the babby unborn. If it wos the last word I 'ad to speak with my dyin' breath, I'd swear I didn't 'ave no 'and in it, and I couldn't prevent it no more nor you could, guv'nor, bein', as I dessay you wos, a 'undered mile away at the time. Why, it come upon me like a clap of thunder, and upon Mr. Louis, too, pore chap, and there 'e wos – good Lord! I can 'ardly bring my tongue to say it – there 'e wos, layin' on the flore, stone dead, and the blood porein' out of 'im.

'Ere, I can't stand it no longer, I can't. From that night to this I've never 'ad a easy minute. 'Underds and 'underds of times since then I've seed 'im layin' afore me as 'e laid that night. It wos only yesterday, while I wos playin' a game o' pyramids, and the red balls wos scattered all over the table, that all of a suddent there wos the pore chap layin' on the green cloth in the middle of a dozen large, round clots o' blood. It was only a wision, I know, like any number of others I've 'ad, but it turned me sick, and put me off my play so that I couldn't pot a ball all through the game. Never a green field I see but there 'e is, layin' in the middle of it, with the grass all red about 'im. It ain't a pleasant sight, guv'nor, is it? It sets me all of a tremble, and over and over again I've sed to myself, "Make a clean breast of it, Jack, and bring it 'ome to the man wot done the deed. You can't be 'ung for it, you can't, Jack," ses I to myself, "cos your 'and wos never raised agin 'im. Make a clean breast of it, wunst and for all, and get rid of the wisions that's a 'aunting of yer day and night." And now, on the top o' that, you come to me, guv'nor, and ses, "Yer've got to tell me everythink, Jack, about that there murder. Prove to me yer didn't do it, and not a 'air of your 'ead shall be touched. Scot free yer shall go, and for wunst in your life yer'll 'ave the satisfaction of bein' on the right side o' justice." Ses you to me, "Keep yer mouth shut, and yer'll find yerself in a 'ole. Queen's evidence is your game, Jack, if yer know wot's good for yerself."

Well, guv'nor, when I put alongside o' that wot I've read in the papers about somebody givin' of 'isself up for the murder, it makes me think I'd best accept yer orfer. Guv'nor, I do accept it. 'Ere's my 'and. But there's somethink you've got to do fust. You've got to take yer Gospel oath that yer'll be as good as yer word, and that I sha'n't be 'urt for wot I didn't do. You're willing? Well, take it.

That's bindin', mind yer, and don't forgit yer'll be burnt in 'ell fire if yer've swored false. 'Ave yer got anythink else to say afore I start? I don't want to be meddled with once I begin, 'cause it'd be bound to muddle me, and I should git off the track. I must tell everythink I know about myself and my pals and Mr. Louis? It's a large order, but all right. A clean breast I've promised to make, and a clean breast it shall be. 'Ere goes.

There wos three of us, outside of 'im that's gone. Maxwell (that's the only name I knowed 'im by), and Morgan (that's the only name I knowed 'im by), and me. They called me Jack, and if yer don't mind I'll call the other Louis. It saves a lot of time to drop the misters.

There ain't much to tell about myself up to the time I fust set eyes on Maxwell and Morgan. I never learnt a honest trade, and in course I 'ad to do somethink for a livin'. I've been a billiard marker, a race-course runner, a ticker snatcher, a crossin' sweeper (not longer at that nor I could 'elp, it wos playin' it so low), a tout for sharps, a decoy for mugs, a thimble-rigger, a tipster, a nigger minstrel, and I don't know what else. Wunst I wos that 'ard up that I carried a Punch and Judy for a showman mean enough to skin a flint; 'e wouldn't pay me wot wos doo, so me and Toby took our 'ook together. There wos a week I run arter cabs from the railway stations on the chance of a job to carry the luggage in. Yer can't play it much lower nor that, can yer, guv'nor? The things I could tell 'd fill a book if I 'ad the gift to set 'em down. If I'd been eddycated up to it I might 'ave done well among the swells, I'm that neat with the pasteboards. I can shuffle 'em in any way I want, kings at top, aces at bottom, in the middle, anywhere you like. My fingers wos made for it. Set down at all-fours with me, and I'll tell yer every card in yer 'and. With three peas and a thimble I've earnt many a thick 'un. And now yer've got my pickcher. If open confession's good for the soul, I ought to feel comfortable about mine.

It wos billiards as fust brought me and Maxwell and Morgan together. I wos marker at the Jolly Ploughboy under a false name, and when they come in I wos practising the spot stroke, no one else bein' in the room. I'd made thirteen spots, and wos well set for a run, but the minute I set eyes on 'em I began to kid, and missed a lot of winnin' 'azards. I wosn't born yesterday, yer know. They stood watchin' me a little till I laid down my cue and arst 'em if they wanted a game. They looked at each other, and larfed. "O-ho," sed I to myself, "'untin' for mugs."

"If he ain't 'ere at four o'clock," sed Maxwell to Morgan, "we needn't egspect 'im till five."

"That's so," sed Morgan.

They waited till five minutes past four, but the party they wos egspectin' didn't turn up.

"We'll secure the table," sed Maxwell, and arst me 'ow many I'd give 'im in a 'undered.

"'Ow many 'll yer give me?" wos the question I put to 'im.

"That's cool," sed 'e, "a billiard marker wantin' points."

"I ain't been long at the game," sed I, by way of apology.

"We want the table till seven," sed Maxwell, "to play with a friend wot's comin' to see us, so you and me 'll 'ave a game even."

"I'll try my luck," sed I, and we set to work, Morgan bein' so obligin' as to mark for us.

"Let's 'ave a bet on it," sed Maxwell.

"I'm agreeable, as fur as a shillin' goes," sed I; "it's as much as I can afford to lose."

It wos a funny game. 'E 'adn't taken 'arf-a-dozen shots afore I sor 'e wos kiddin', missin' easy shots, and makin' difficult ones, and pretendin' they wos flukes. But I could kid as well as 'im, and I don't think 'e suspected my play 'arf as much as I suspected 'is. We passed each other over and over agin; now 'e wos a'ead, now me. Morgan seemed to be amused at the game, and wos wery free with 'is remarks. At 'arf-past four Maxwell wos eighty-two, and I was twelve behind.

"Let's make it two 'undered," 'e sed, "and double the stakes."

"All right," sed I, "we ain't dabs either of us."

We went on with the game, scorin' wery slow. At ten minutes to five we wos "140 all," neck and neck. Maxwell looked up at the clock.

"Our friend 'll be 'ere in ten minutes," sed 'e; and I'm blest if 'e didn't set to work and score fifty-eight off the balls, within two of the game.

"Ten to one in shillin's you lose, marker," sed Morgan, when 'is pal commenced 'is big break.

"Done with you, sir," sed I, but I didn't like the bet a bit when I sor wot Maxwell could do with the balls. Luckily for me 'e missed 'is last shot, a loser off the white, and I knew it wos all up with me if I give 'im another chance. So I pulled myself together, and played up in real earnest. I wanted sixty to win, and I run 'em out jest as the clock struck five. They looked staggered a minute, and then they bust out larfin', and threw me my winnin's. As I wos pocketin' the twelve bob with a innercent look (the money come wery 'andy jest then, guv'nor) the friend they wos waitin' for pops 'is 'ead in. It was pore Louis. I can't say I ever took to 'im, 'e wos that stuck up, but when a cove comes to sech a end as 'e come to it sorftens the 'eart.

The minute I sor 'im I spotted wot they wos up to. Maxwell and 'im wos old friends accordin' to their talk, but Morgan wos a new pal, and it wos 'im as tackled Louis at billiards. Louis had plenty of money to sport; 'e'd been backin' winners, and 'ad pulled off a double event, two thousan' to twenty. It made my mouth water to 'ear 'em talk about it. Maxwell 'ad been nicked the other way through backin' losers.

"Wot does it matter?" 'e cried. "Every dawg 'as 'is day. It'll be our turn next."

"You think yerself clever, you do," sneered Louis. "You've only got to touch a thing to make a mess of it."

"You're the clever one," sed Maxwell, but I sor 'e didn't like the slap.

"Wot do you think?" said Louis, rattlin' the money in 'is pocket.

Morgan and 'im played pyramids at fust, a dollar a ball. Louis fancied 'isself a bit, and they kep' praising 'is good shots, but 'e wos as much a match for the man 'e wos playin' with as a mouse is for a cat. It didn't take me long to see that Morgan could give Louis four balls out of fifteen, and beat 'is 'ead off. But the way 'e kidded! I never sor anythink like it. 'E let Louis win three games right off, and then they played a match at billiards, five 'undered up. Maxwell backed Louis, and they 'ad any amount of larfin' and charfin' over the game. It wosn't my place to say anythink; it's a marker's business to 'old 'is tongue if e' wants to keep 'is place. Besides, wosn't I as bad as they wos, and wouldn't I 'ave won money of Louis if 'e'd give me 'arf a chance? Not that Morgan took any of 'is tin that afternoon. 'E won five pound, and so did Maxwell, and 'e chuckled over it as if 'e'd won a 'atful. They went away when the game wos over, and didn't come into that billiard room agin while I wos marker there.

"I didn't stop long, it's true. There was a devil of a row one night, and a man who knew me rounded on me and called me a thief. While the row wos goin' on in come the landlord with 'is fightin' potman, and I was bundled out neck and crop. It ain't easy to get a honest living, guv'nor. I wasn't flush of tin, when I lost my situation; 'arf a quid was all I 'ad, and that was soon blooed. Then I 'ad sech a spell o' bad luck that it drove me fairly wild. Windsor races wos on, and I thought I'd try my luck there, so I borrowed a old pack o' cards, a deal board, and a couple of tressels, and tramped it to the course, startin' in the night to get there in time. I give yer my word I wos 'most starved, and as for my togs – well, I 'ad to tie the soles of my boots to the uppers with bits of string. Between the races I set up my table, and begun to show my card tricks. Unfortunately I ain't wery good at patter, and you know, guv'nor, no one better, wot a long way that goes with a crowd. I tried to make clever speeches, but couldn't, and the consekence wos that the day wos nearly over, and eightpence was all I managed to screw out o' the mangy lot. A tanner o' that went in 'ard-biled eggs, and bread, and a go o' stooed eels, and there wos I with tuppence left to take me back to London. It wos Saturday, and there wos no chance of gittin' anythink to-morrer. A tight 'ole, wasn't it? A life like mine ain't all beer and skittles, I can tell yer.

"Down-'earted as I wos, I went on with my tricks, and never did 'em better in all my life. But it wos no go; them as gathered round wouldn't part. I wos beggin' of 'em to chuck in their coppers when who should I see among 'em but Maxwell. 'E didn't speak to me jest then and 'e didn't give me nothink; presently 'e went away, and come back with Morgan, and they stood watchin' me shuffle the pasteboards. Then they looked at each other, and sed somethink I didn't 'ear. Morgan walked off, leavin' Maxwell be'ind. 'E took me aside.

"Yer down on yer luck," said 'e.

"Never 'ad sech a cussed run in all my born days," sed I, showin' my rags.

"You're clever with the pasteboards," sed 'e.

"Wish I could git my livin' out of 'em," sed I.

"Per'aps yer can," sed 'e. "If I orfer yer a job will yer take it?"

"Will a duck swim?" I answered.

'E scanned me all over, jest as if 'e was measurin' me for somethink, and sed, "You ain't over-partickler, I suppose?"

"Me over-partickler!" I cried. "That's a good 'un. Wot sort of a job?"

"Pickin' feathers," he said, as serious as a judge.

"Wot sort of bird?" I arst.

"Pigeon," he answered. "A fine fat 'un."

"I'm yer man," sed I, and then 'e took a card from 'is pocket, and told me to call at the address to-morrer at one o'clock. 'Is rooms wos on the fust flore, 'e said, and I was to march straight into the 'ouse and up the stairs, and say nothink to nobody. As 'e wos tellin' me this Morgan came runnin' up to 'im and whispered somethink about a 'orse that wos goin' to run in the next race, and they made off together.

"Mean cuss!" thought I, for the least 'e could 'ave done wos to give me a bob or two on account, seein' the state I wos in. 'Owsomever, the chance of a job cheered me up a bit.

When the races wos over I looked about for Maxwell or Morgan, but they wosn't in sight, and there wos nothink for it but to shoulder my traps and tramp it to London. Not a pleasant journey, guv'nor, with the rain comin' down in torrents. Past five in the mornin' when I got back, and I wos that 'ungry I could have eat a brick if I could 'ave got my teeth in it. I ain't tellin' yer this to egscuse myself for wot I did afterwards, only I want yer to know that I wos never in my life so desperately 'ard up as I was that night when I footed it from Windsor to London through the peltin' rain. I wouldn't like a dawg belongin' to me to go through wot I did, and if it 'adn't been for a woman givin' me the best part of 'er mug of corfey at a night stall at two in the mornin' it's my opinion I should 'ave 'ad to throw up the sponge.

The address on the card was Newman Street, Soho, and I wos there to the minute. Up I limped – I'd run a nail into my foot – to the fust flore, as Maxwell told me to do, the street dore bein' on the swing. If anybody 'ad opened it to me they'd 'ave slammed it in my face, and small blame to 'em, I wos sech a scarecrow. The landin' was so dark that I could 'ardly see, but my 'and touched a knocker, and I used it free. Maxwell 'imself answered it, and I follered 'im to 'is room.

"By gum," said 'e, "you've got yerself up for egshibition! 'Ave yer spent that twelve bob yer won of us at billiards?"

"Give me somethink to eat," sed I. "I'm 'arf starved."

He took a pie of some sort out of a cupboard, and I made short work of it.

"Beer or whisky?" 'e sed, when I wos arf way through.

"Both," I answered, and 'e laughed as 'e put a bottle o' beer and 'arf a tumbler of whisky afore me. I finished the beer and put the whisky atop of it. It warmed me, I can tell yer.

"Now for business," he sed; "but fust go into that bath room, and wash the dirt off your 'ands." I got 'em as clean as I could, and then 'e sed, "There's a pack o' cards on the mantelshelf. Let's 'ave a game o' piquet."

I stared at 'im, and sed I didn't know the game.

"I'll learn it yer," he sed. "You beat me at billiards; I want to see if yer can beat me at piquet."

"I ain't got no money to lose," sed I.

"We'll play for nuts," sed 'e with a wink.

'E told me all the pints of the game, and in 'arf-a-hour I 'ad it at my fingers' ends, and knew as much about it as 'e did 'isself.

"D'yer want me to play on the square?" I arst.

"I want to see 'ow yer can palm the cards," he answered. "I told yer at Windsor yesterday that the job I 'ad to orfer yer wos to pick feathers. A fat pigeon, with feathers of gold. Do yer twig?"

"Yes," I sed.

"I can palm the pasteboards pritty well myself," he went on, "but I ain't allus to be depended on. Morgan's a muff, 'is fingers are all thumbs. 'Old up yer 'ands. Good – as steady as a rock. Come on; it's your deal."

We played, and I 'ardly ever dealt myself a 'and without four aces, or four kings, or a point of sixteen or seventeen from the ace. In less than a hour I won nigh upon a thousand points of 'im. 'E watched me close, but 'e couldn't find out 'ow it wos done, and 'e said with a sour grin that I wos the prince o' sharps, and that 'e wouldn't like to play me for money.

Then 'e let me into the secret. There wos a young feller 'im and Morgan wos wery intimate with; 'e 'ad money of 'is own, and 'ad won more at the races, where the three of 'em went together. They'd won a little off 'im at cards, but they 'ad a notion e' wos gettin' suspicious of 'em, though they wosn't sure. Per'aps 'e wos, per'aps 'e wosn't. Their scheme was to introduce a fourth gentleman who'd jine the game.

"You're the fourth gentleman," sed Maxwell.

"Me!" I cried. "Why, I've only got to open my mouth to show wot I am."

They 'ad considered that. I wos a common, ignorant man, with a good 'eart – I wos to be sure to 'ave a good 'eart – as 'd made a fortune on the goldfields. I wos to lose money as well as the pigeon, and that'd make 'im less suspicious. The difference atween me and 'im wos that he paid in good money and I paid in flash notes.

"One night," sed Maxwell, "arter yer've lost double as much as 'im yer'll set down with me while 'e's in the room, and in an hour or two yer'll win back double as much as yer've lost. That'll egg 'im on, and 'e'll try to do the same with me or you – it don't matter which – and then we'll clean 'im out. We'll 'ave every shillin' 'e's got. We play for ready money – no infernal cheques – and when we've done with 'im 'e can go to the devil. See?"

I did see. It wos a artful plot, and like enough to turn out jest as 'e calkylated.

"Wot am I to gain by it?" I arst.

"A reg'lar swell rig-out," 'e answered, "fine togs, a gold watch and chain, and a ring, and two pound a week to keep yerself. When the job's finished yer'll get a fourth of the winnin's."

I didn't throw away the chance – not me! Fine togs, a gold watch and chain, a ring, and two pound a week – why, it wos a reg'lar slice o' luck, with me starving, and not knowing where to git my next meal from!

"I'll jine yer," said I. "'Ere's my 'and on it. Who's the pigeon?"

"D'yer remember that friend of our'n as Morgan played billiards with at the Jolly Ploughboy?" arst Maxwell.

"Send I may live!" I cried. "If that's 'im we're done! 'E'll know me agin as sure as guns."

"I'll eat my 'ead if 'e does," sed Maxwell. "You 'ad a mustarsh and a pair o' whiskers, and you've got 'em now. Shave 'em off, and slip into yer new togs, and yer own mother wouldn't know yer."

He wos right. Yer wouldn't believe the difference it made in me. When I looked in the glass I thought I wos some one else.

Louis never suspected, and Maxwell sed I played my part tip-top. 'E acted square as fur as 'is fust promises went. The watch and chain wos only silver gilt, and the ring was Abyssinian gold and sham stones, but the togs wos all right, and so wos the two quid a week. I told 'im if 'e did me in the end when the job was finished, I'd make it warm for 'im.

I've come across some bad 'uns in my time, but I never come across sech a scoundrel as that Maxwell. 'E'd 'ave skinned 'is own mother if 'e could 'ave made anythink out of it and if 'e could 'ave put the skinnin' on a pal. For that's where 'e beat us – 'e knew 'ow to make 'isself safe if we wos blown on. Louis wos mad on 'orse-racin', and so wos all of us, for the matter of that, but 'e took the cake. We went all over the country, whenever there wos any sport on, and yer may bet yer life we never give our own names nowhere. I think that Louis stuck to us because 'e wos mad to git back the money 'e'd lost to Maxwell and Morgan; 'e wos regularly pricked, and sometimes went for Maxwell like a mad bull. But Maxwell kep' cool; 'e only lost 'isself once, and you'll 'ear of it presently. 'E couldn't keep wot 'e won; 'e dashed it down on the race-course, and wos more orfen stone broke than not. 'E wos allus goin' to win a pot on the next race, and it never come off – never once. 'E knowed sech a lot, yer see. That's wot's the matter with most of us. We're so clever.