Mr. Beale

“ Homo leant forward and again joined their hands and a note of unexpected solemnity vibrated in his voice when he spoke.
"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder."
Beale drew a deep breath then:
"Very pretty indeed," said a voice.
The detective swung across the window to bring the speaker into a line of fire.
"Put down your gun, admirable Mr. Beale." Van Heerden stood in the centre of the room and the bulky figure of Milsom filled the doorway.
"Very pretty indeed, and most picturesque," said van Heerden. "I didn't like to interrupt the ceremony. ”

“ Beale, put 'em up," said a voice behind him. "Right above your head, Mr. Beale, where we can see them."
He turned slowly, his hands rising mechanically to face Parson Homo, who still sat at the table, but he had discarded his Greek book and was handling a business-like revolver, the muzzle of which covered the detective.
"Smells rotten, doesn't it?" said Homo pleasantly.
Beale, too, had sniffed the musty odour, and knew that it came from the bag the girl had wrenched from his grasp. It was the sickly scent of the Green Rust! ”

“ Even Mr Prothero, in spite of his son, was glad to find her, and to have her at the farm again. Colonel Vaughan admires her very much.'
'I hope not too much,' said Miss Hall quietly.
'What an absurd idea!' said Miss Gwynne, colouring from beneath her broad hat. 'He is a man that admires beauty and talent, wherever it is to be found. I do like that sort of person; free from vulgar prejudice.'
'Not quite, I think, my dearest Freda. He is not so easily read, perhaps, as you in your straightforward nature fancy.'
'If he isn't prejudiced, you are, at any rate,' said Freda. ”

“ Beale's letter to Mr. Morriss that he promised, under certain contingences, such as failure to see or communicate with him in a given time, to furnishing a key by which the papers would be fully explained. As the failure to do either actually occurred, and the promised explanation has never been received, it may possibly remain in the hands of some relative or friend of Beale's, or some other person engaged in the enterprise with him. That they would attach no importance to a seemingly unintelligible writing seems quite natural ”

“ Why did Mr Prothero come, papa? isn't he a farmer?'
'And isn't your papa a farmer? and am not I a farmer, Master Harold?' exclaims Sir Hugh, catching the boy up in his arms.
'I am so sorry Aunt Freda is going away,' says quiet little Minnie to her mother.
'And tho am I, my dear.'
'And tho am I, mamma,' lisps Dot, exactly as lisps her mamma.
'I hope she will be happy,' says Mr Gwynne, aside to the colonel; 'do you think she will?'
'Yes, I am sure she will; she is evidently sincerely attached to Rowland Prothero, and he to her. He is a good man and a gentleman, one cannot deny that. Pshaw! ”

“ Beale admiringly.
"I ain't goin' to stick it on never no more," said Dickie. "They called it lying and cheating, where I was—in my dream, I mean."
"Once let a nipper out of yer sight," said Mr. Beale sadly, "and see what comes of it! 'No. 2' a-goin' to stick it on no more! Then how's us to get a honest living? Answer me that, young chap."
"I don't know," said Dickie, "but we got to do it som'ow." [117]
"It ain't to be done—not with all the unemployed there is about," said Mr. Beale. "Besides, you've got a regular gift for sticking it on—a talent I call it. ”

“ Mr Rowland Prothero perceived the tears, and retired to his sofa, taking up his book and pretending to read.
'Can I help you, Mrs Prothero? There does not seem a moment to lose. I will send for a doctor, or do anything I can,' said Miss Gwynne.
'Thank you, dear Miss Gwynne,' replied Mrs Prothero, 'I will put her in Owen's room.'
'Who can we get to bring her in? Shall I go and fetch one of the men? Netta, do get some one to help us.'
'I will help you, if you will allow me,' said Mr Rowland, rising from his sofa, and looking at Miss Gwynne with a glance of warm approval. ”

“ Unless you should be under any misapprehension, Mr. Beale, it is my duty to tell you that I am a representative of the criminal classes, a fact which our learned friend," he nodded toward the distressed professor, "never ceases to deplore," and he smiled blandly.
They had dropped into English and the professor after waiting uncomfortably for the visitor to explain his business had dropped back to his work with a grunt.
"I am Parson Homo and this is my pied-à-terre. We professional criminals must have somewhere to go when we are not in prison, you know." ”

“ Beale and Deptford and the feel of dirty clothes and the smell of dust-bins. It was no light thing to come back from that to this. And now he made a resolution—that he would not set out the charm of Tinkler and seal and moon-seeds until he had established Mr. Beale in an honourable calling and made a life for him in which he could be happy. A great undertaking for a child? Yes. But then Dickie was not an ordinary child, or none of these adventures would ever have happened to him. ”

“ Sikes—and not Mr. Beale who had been seen at noon on Saturday in the hotel in company with the manager; and as he very much resembled Mr. Beale's description, we had come to him to clear the matter up once for all. I put it most tactfully, I assure you, sir; but he got purple and banged the table. ‘Impudent lies! I never was near the place since March last. I don't care what the management says; I never was near the place on Saturday. Haven't been to London, except to a theatre, in months. Tell the Enterprise people that if they make any future mistake of the kind I'll have them up. ”

“ The big hands were outspread in despair.
"The Herr Doctor has many enemies," mumbled Heyler. "I can tell you nothing, Herr Peale."
"Tell me this," said Beale: "is there any place you know of where the doctor may have taken a lady—the young lady into whose room you went the night I found you?"
"A young lady?" The old man was obviously surprised. "No, no, Herr Peale, there is no place where a young lady could go. Ach! No!"
"Well," said Beale, after a pause, "I guess I can do no more with you, professor." He glanced round at the cretonne recess: "I won't inconvenience you any longer, Mr. Homo." ”

“ The room where he was discovered belonged to another American named Green. Mr. Beale, on his release, had described to the reporters how he had been lured to the room under the pretext of purchasing a rare painting, robbed, and left tied up and gagged. The description of his assailant tallied with the man wanted by the Yard as Cox, or Carter. Pointer flew across within a couple of hours after opening his morning paper, and found Mr. Beale surrounded by a knot of reporters. Beale looked up at him with a saturnine grin.
“Yes, it's me, Chief. I'm too young and inexperienced for this wicked world. ”

“ Mr and Mrs Howel Jenkins will be no longer the Howel and Netta of old days; we shall be the upon, not the fawners!'
'I'd scorn to fawn on any one, Howel,' says Netta indignantly; 'I never did in my life. I always gave Miss Rice Rice as big a stare as she gave me.'
'You will be able to give her a bigger now,' laughs Howel. As they journeyed on, Howel pointed out all the different objects that were likely to interest his mother and Netta. Every one, or nearly every one, knows what an exciting event is a first journey to London, it matters not whether performed at eighteen or sixty-five. ”

“ Beale; "a reg'ler wash all over—this very night. I always like a wash meself. Some blokes think it pays to be dirty. But it don't. If you're clean they say 'Honest Poverty,' an' if you're dirty they say 'Serve you right.' We'll get a pail or something this very night."
"You are good," said Dickie. "I do like you."
Mr. Beale looked at him through the deepening twilight—rather queerly, Dickie thought. ”

“ I am so glad you have brought us back Gladys. We couldn't do without her in these parts.'
'Do you still stand to your text, Miss Gwynne?' said Mr Prothero. 'We may as well settle the matter at once. It will be a great thing for the girl.'
'Oh, certainly; only she looks too tired to settle anything. Gladys, I will give you a day or two to consider whether you will come and live with me, as my maid, or be Miss Hall's pattern school-mistress.'
Gladys looked from Miss Gwynne to Miss Hall, and then from her master to her mistress, through the tears that were gathering faster and faster. ”

“ It can be truly said that no persons ever lived in a community for such a length of time who accomplished more good during their lives, or whose death was more universally regretted.
It was the unblemished character of the man, and the universal confidence reposed in him, that induced Beale to entrust him with his secret, and in certain contingencies select him for a most important trust; that his confidence was not misplaced, every one remembering Mr. Morriss will acknowledge. ”

“ Beale struck his palm. Why had he not thought of Hilda Glaum before?
"That's about all I want to ask you, Mr. White," he said mildly; "you're a lucky man."
"Lucky, sir!" Mr. White recovered his hauteur as [Pg 177] quickly as Beale's aggressiveness passed. "I fail to perceive my fortune. I fail to see, sir, where luck comes in."
"You have your money back," said Beale significantly, "if you hadn't been pressed for money and had not pressed van Heerden you would have whistled for it." ”

“ Mr. Beale explained; "'e ain't never bin caught. Lives out 'ere with 'is little friendses," he added after a violent effort of imagination—"in 'oles in the ground. Gets 'is own meals and larks about on 'is own."
"How beautiful!" said Dickie, wriggling with delight. This life of the rabbit, as described by Mr. Beale, was the child's first glimpse of freedom. "I'd like to be a rabbit."
"You much better be my little nipper," said Beale. "Steady on, mate. 'Ow'm I to wheel the bloomin' pram if you goes on like as if you was a bag of eels?" ”

“ That a perfect stranger, and a perfectly drunken stranger at that, should employ a nickname which was for the use of a privileged few, distressed him.
"And," said the swaying man by the door, peering through the half-darkness: "Is it not Detective-Sergeant Peterson and Constable Fairbank? Welcome to this home of virtue."
The detective-sergeant smiled but said nothing. The doctor fingered his beard indecisively, but Mr. White essayed to stride past, his chin in the air, ignoring the greeting, but Mr. Beale was too quick for him. ”

“ She was half-way down the second page when she uttered a little exclamation, for a familiar name was there, the name of Dr. van Heerden.
Fascinated, she read the story to the end, half-expecting that the name of Mr. Beale would occur.
There were many names all unknown to her and one that occurred with the greatest frequency was that of James Kitson. Mr. Beale did not appear to have played any part. She read for an hour, sitting on the floor by the cupboard. She reached the last page, closed the book and slipped it back in the cupboard. ”

“ The old professor looked dubiously from one to the other.
"It is my friend, Herr Homo."
"Herr Homo," repeated Beale, offering his hand, "my name is Beale."
Homo shot a keen glance at him.
"A split! or my criminal instincts fail me," he said, pleasantly enough.
"Split?" repeated Beale, puzzled.
"American I gather from your accent," said Mr. Homo; "pray sit down. 'Split' is the phrase employed by the criminal classes to describe a gentleman who in your country is known as a 'fly cop'!"
"Oh, a detective," smiled Beale. "No, in the sense you mean I am not a detective. ”

“ Mr. Beale passed out of the flat and pressed the bell of the door next to his. There was no response. He pressed it again after an interval, and stepped back to look at the fanlight. No light showed and he took out his watch. It was nine o'clock. He had not seen the girl all day, having been present at the inquest, but he had heard her door close two hours before. No reply came to his second ring, and he went back to his flat.
[Pg 84]
"She's out," he said. "I don't quite understand it. I particularly requested her yesterday not to go out after dark for a day or two." ”

“ Mr. Beale laughed. Then he spat thoughtfully. Then he said—
"It's rum—I likes to see the little beggar stokin' up, for all it spoils the market. If 'e gets a bit fat 'e makes it up in cleverness. You should 'ear 'im!" and so forth and so on, till the red-whiskered man said quite crossly—
"Seems to me you're a bit dotty about this 'ere extry double nipper. I never knew you took like it afore."
"Fact is," said Beale, with an air of great candour, "it's 'is cleverness does me. It ain't as I'm silly about 'im—but 'e's that clever."
"I 'ope 'e's clever enough to do wot 'e's told. ”

“ At the top of the stair she met Mr Prothero, face to face. The effect of her appearance upon that worthy man is not to be described. She made a kind of curtsey and began to speak, but no sooner did she see his face than she held her tongue. Neither did words appear to come at the farmer's bidding, but very decided deeds did. ”

“ I wish I had called her worse! she deserves every name that was ever written!'
'But, perhaps,' suggests Owen, 'she will be happy, and Howel will be steady.'
'Steady! hold your tongue and don't be a fool! Make a drunkard steady! make a bad son steady! make a gambler steady! make a horse-racer steady! make—make—make—hold your tongue, sir: don't say a word for the ungrateful girl—never mention her name to me again—I never wish to see her face more as long as I live—I—I—I—'
Mr Prothero's passion choked his words. ”