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Page 85
The staff of the Second Friendly was inconsiderable in
numbers--an outer office harboured a small boy and a tall
young man; an inner one accommodated Mr. Stebbing, also a
young man, sandy-haired and freckled, who, having inspected
Detective-Sergeant Jettison's professional card, gave him the
best chair in the room and stared at him with a mingling of
awe and curiosity which plainly showed that he had never
entertained a detective before. And as if to show his visitor
that he realized the seriousness of the occasion, he nodded
meaningly at his door.
"All safe, here, sir!" he whispered. "Well fitting doors in
these old houses--knew how to make 'em in those days. No
chance of being overheard here--what can I do for you, sir?"
"Thank you--much obliged to you," said Jettison. "No
objection to my pipe, I suppose? Just so. Ah!--well, between
you and me, Mr. Stebbing, I'm down here in connection with
that Collishaw case--you know."
"I know, sir--poor fellow!" said the secretary. "Cruel thing,
sir, if the man was put an end to. One of our members, was
Collishaw, sir."
"So I understand," remarked Jettison. "That's what I've come
about. Bit of information, on the quiet, eh? Strictly
between our two selves--for the present."
Stebbing nodded and winked, as if he had been doing business
with detectives all his life. "To be sure, sir, to be sure!"
he responded with alacrity. "Just between you and me and the
door post!-all right. Anything I can do, Mr. Jettison, shall
be done. But it's more in the way of what I can tell, I
suppose?"
"Something of that sort," replied Jettison in his slow,
easy-going fashion. "I want to know a thing or two. Yours is
a working-man's society, I think? Aye--and I understand
you've a system whereby such a man can put his bits of savings
by in your hands?"
"A capital system, too!" answered the secretary, seizing on a
pamphlet and pushing it into his visitor's hand. "I don't
believe there's better in England! If you read that--"
"I'll take a look at it some time," said Jettison, putting
the pamphlet in his pocket. "Well, now, I also understand
that Collishaw was in the habit of bringing you a bit of
saved money now and then a sort of saving fellow, wasn't he?"
Stebbing nodded assent and reached for a ledger which lay on
the farther side of his desk.
"Collishaw," he answered, "had been a member of our society
ever since it started--fourteen years ago. And he'd been
putting in savings for some eight or nine years. Not much,
you'll understand. Say, as an average, two to three pounds
every half-year--never more. But, just before his death, or
murder, or whatever you like to call it, he came in here one
day with fifty pounds! Fairly astounded me, sir! Fifty
pounds--all in a lump!"
"It's about that fifty pounds I want to know something," said
Jettison. "He didn't tell you how he'd come by it? Wasn't a
legacy, for instance?"
"He didn't say anything but that he'd had a bit of luck,"
answered Stebbing. "I asked no questions. Legacy, now?--no,
he didn't mention that. Here it is," he continued, turning
over the pages of the ledger. "There! 50 pounds. You see the
date--that 'ud be two days before his death."
Jettison glanced at the ledger and resumed his seat.
"Now, then, Mr. Stebbing, I want you to tell me something very
definite," he said. "It's not so long since this happened, so
you'll not have to tag your memory to any great extent. In
what form did Collishaw pay that fifty pounds to you?"
"That's easy answered, sir," said the secretary. "It was in
gold. Fifty sovereigns--he had 'em in a bit of a bag."
Jettison reflected on this information for a moment or two.
Then he rose.
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