“You don’t have to think that, sir. You put us on to the Smiler. That’s the right line, I’ll lay a dollar.”
“Yes, it could be,” Reggie agreed. “Who did you say the insurance assessors were? Moss & Moss? Good. I’d like to hear what they think of things.”
Reggie drove to the office of Moss & Moss. Mr. David Moss, who had met him before with agreeable results, was very pleased to see him. A sharp face appraised his dreamy melancholy. “Going to do me a bit of good, Mr. Fortune? What is it?”
“I don’t know. Bell says you’re in the Goldschild burglary, and quite happy about it.”
“No complaints, thank you.”
“Meaning to say - the burglar did take ten thousand pounds’ worth?”
“We don’t contest it,” said Mr. Moss.
“I see. And unofficially - do you believe it?”
“Yep.” Mr. Moss’s teeth shone, and he gave an unofficial wink. “Taking things by long and by large, don’t you know, I dare say Goldy won’t lose when he’s paid in full. Not much! But he had some good stuff taken, all right. Look, they’ve had a run of burglaries out there, and all neat jobs. There’s some first - class pro. and his gang working the place, if you ask me.”
“Yes, you may be right,” Reggie agreed. “What about Goldschild’s chauffeur?”
“Sleeps sound, don’t he?” said Mr. Moss. “But they can’t get anything on him, I’m told.”
“No. He also gave information he’d seen a local man with a bad name by Goldschild’s house that night.”
“So I’ve heard. And then he put himself to bed.” Mr. Moss winked. “I see what you mean. Not too good. But that’s up to the police.”
“Yes. As you say. I wonder if you were in a case at Bournham fifteen years ago. Fire in a draper’s shop. The insurers wouldn’t pay.”
“Eh, eh? Where are you getting to?” Mr. Moss made a grimace. “I couldn’t tell you anything that old off - hand.”
“No. Look it up, will you? The man whose shop was burnt, Alfred Blunt, is the man the chauffeur says he saw by Goldschild’s house. I’d like to know something about Blunt’s fire.”
Two days after, he had a letter from Moss & Moss. They begged to state that they had not been concerned in dealing with Blunt’s fire, but they were informed that he was charged with arson, and, though he was not convicted, payment of his insurance was refused, and he had not ventured to sue for it. The only sum paid in connection with the fire was over another insurance to one Garner, the owner of adjoining premises which had been consequently damaged. They hoped this would be satisfactory to Mr. Fortune, and remained faithfully, Moss & Moss.
“You do. Yes,” Reggie murmured, and quoted to himself the Meredith maxim: ”’ Yes, dear Van, that is how you should behave: imply things.’ I wonder what you think you’re implying, David?”
Once more a resigned chauffeur drove him out through the trams to Bournham, but not to its police station. They discovered the home of the local paper, the Bournham Guardian, Norton Post, and Wyford Gazette. This triune journal announced, over its door, that it was born in 1850, and the bearded ancient who received Reggie in a hutch of an advertisement office looked as if he had assisted at the birth. But his wits were not worn out. In a few minutes he had the file of the Bournham Guardian of fifteen years ago on the counter.
Reggie found a full report of the trial of Alfred Blunt. A fire - brigade officer testified that the fire had started in several places at once, and he considered this in itself suspicious. Moreover, though for some of the outbreak he could detect no cause, on the floor behind the counter in the back shop he had found a candle beside some celluloid goods - a candle which had been lighted and gone out, and this in his opinion could only be explained as an attempt to fire the premises. Employees gave reluctant evidence that Mr. Blunt had stayed on in the shop after everyone else had gone home. There was proof of the decay of his business, and the precarious state of his finances, and the payment of his fire - insurance premium only just in time to prevent its lapse.
The only witness whom the defence could produce to show that Blunt was back in his house before the fire broke out was his wife, and she fainted under cross - examination. Blunt went into the witness box, and swore that he knew nothing of the cause of the fire - said that he had only stayed on at the shop to go over his books, and left everything safe. When he was cross - examined, he admitted financial difficulties from the growing competition in Bournham, and confessed that he had borrowed to pay his fire premium - in fact, his wife had borrowed for him - from a friend of her family, he was told - from Mr. Frederic Garner.
There was an acid summing up. The judge made it plain that he did not think much of Blunt, and instructed the jury to consider the evidence as reasonable men. But when they sent him a message asking for more guidance, he declined, and he accepted without comment their decision that they could not agree.
Reggie shut up the file, and saw the ancient factotum of the Bournham Guardian displaying from his white beard a toothless grin. “Funny business, ain’t it, mister?” he said.
“Which is that?” Reggie looked surprised.
“Oh, come off it! You was reading up Alf Blunt’s trial.” The old man winked. “And you ain’t the only one, neither. What’s doing?”
Reggie laughed. “You’re a sharp young fellow.” He put a hand in a pocket. “I was looking it up for the fire - insurance people.” He produced a brown note. “I don’t know why anyone else should bother about it.”
“No more do I.” The old man watched the note. “Nor no one never did till t’other day. Day before yesterday it was, I had a fly cove come asking for that there file, and reading over all about Alf Blunt same as you did. Don’t ask me what he was after.”
“Isn’t that any use?” Reggie fingered the note which the bleared eyes watched. “He didn’t tell you?”
“Not him. He wasn’t a gentleman like you,” the old man complained. “Flash bloke, I’d call him. A tough. He’d got a pair of shoulders on him, he had, and a thick ear. Didn’t read fast like you, neither. Fair spelt it out.”
Reggie held out the note to the gnarled inky fingers. “Nothing to do with me,” he said carelessly. “Thanks.”
