IT was the custom of Mr. Hobbs when he had been on night duty to sleep
till twelve noon on the following day, when he would awaken with a
punctuality at the dinner hour which would shame the fidelity of an alarm
clock. What was his surprise then to have his slumbers rudely disturbed
at ten o’clock by the high-pitched voice of Mrs. Hobbs.
“What’s the matter, Bell?”
“Wake up, you! Here’s news! Who’d have thought it! Why half the Shore
might be murdered for all you care!”
“What’s that about murdering?”
“Why, the baker boy just told me that at Mrs. Delfosse’s, down on the
Point, three of the boarders, if not more, were murdered in their beds
last night. The whole neighbourhood is there, and there is such a crowd
you can hardly get by. And that is your beat, too—I should just like to
know where you were last night? I’ll be bound packed away in some
corner, smoking. You need not shake your head. I know you. Neither use
nor ornament. Whatever the Government sees in you to pay you wages I
can’t think.”
“Now, do keep quiet, Bell, and let a fellow have a show. You have got
hold of some cock-and-bull story that will melt down in the end to a
broken window or a drunken man beating his wife, or some such foolery.”
“No such thing! You just dress and pack off to the station. You may be
wanted, and how can you get a chance to show your ability if you are out
of the way? A clever man like you only a common constable! I say it’s a
disgrace. You should speak up, and put yourself forward.”
* * * * *
Two hours later Mr. Hobbs returned.
“You were partly right for a wonder, Bell. One man has been murdered,
and a very strange case it is, too.”
And then he told in detail to his wife those events that have been
related.
“Well, I never!” exclaimed Mrs. Hobbs. “What shall we have next? And
you call that a mystery? Why it is as plain as the nose on your face.
The woman killed him, of course! Who else could have done it? That
fainting or swooning is all moonshine. Why I could faint twenty times a
day if I wanted to. I know that Mrs. Booth—knew her before she was
married. A barmaid in a sixpenny bar. That will tell you what she is.
Why I would not trust the life of a cat to one of those creatures.
Faint, indeed! It wants a fool of a man to be taken in by that sort of
humbug.”
“That’s just what Detective Dobell says; he’s got the case in hand. Sent
for him to Sydney. As though we were all fools here. Just my luck
again! He seems to think there is no doubt about it, and that all the
trouble will be to hunt up the corroborative evidence against her.”
“Is that Dobell, the Sydney detective, that took your last chance from
you?”
“Yes, that’s the man.”
“Then, in my opinion, he’s a fool! If he said it was the woman did it,
then you can make up your mind he is wrong. Is it likely, now, that a
woman that wanted to kill her husband, would get a dagger and stab him in
his sleep? Suppose I wanted to kill you now, should I go about it like
that? No indeed! I should buy some ‘Rough on Rats,’ or something of
that kind, and put it in your tea. That is our way. It is only women on
the stage that use knives or daggers. You take my advice, and pay no
attention at all to what that Dobell says. That woman no more committed
that deed than I did myself.”
“But you were positive only five minutes ago that she had!”
“I said no such thing, and if you were not the most aggravating man in
the world you would not dare to say so. That is always your way. Trying
to make out I contradict myself, when you are too daft to know what to
say. If you would only take my advice for once you would—”
“What?”
“Just do a bit of detective work on the quiet. This affair will make a
great noise, and the man who finds out the riddle will not be that
thick-head Dobell, take my word for it. While all these wiseacres are
busy over the woman, you just take another track. Hunt up their history,
hers and his. You say that there was no robbery. If so, what was it
done for? Who would his death benefit? Trust a woman’s judgment. I’d
back her to find more out about a case in five minutes than one of you
tall muddle-heads in a week.”
“It’s all very well to talk, Bell. If it comes to that I give you best.
But how should a woman who has never been out of Sydney in her life
understand these things? Now, I have had the advantage of a University
education in the metropolis of the world—a B.A. of London.”
“Well, Mr. B.A., if you are so clever just go into the back yard and chop
some wood for the stove if you expect to have your tea.”
The B.A. went, and as he chopped he inwardly resolved that the advice of
his wife was good; that much might be gained and nothing lost by
following it. Of a truth, that Dobell did hold his nose a trifle too
high—a man who could not construe a page of Latin to save his life.
“Are you going to do what I say about that case?” screamed out Mrs. Hobbs
from the kitchen.
Mr. Hobbs’ only reply as he took in an armful of billets was to mutter—
“Bell, you’re a fool?”
* * * * *
On resuming duty some hours later, Mr. Hobbs found himself detailed for
the special service of watching Mrs. Booth.
