MOTHER GUTCH
Spargo, having the list of questions which he had out on his way to Bayswater, was about to take his of Miss Baylis, when a new idea to him, and he to that lady.
"I've just of something else," he said. "I told you that I'm Marbury was Maitland, and that he came to a sad end—murdered."
"And I've told you," she scornfully, "that in my opinion no end be too for him."
"Just so—I you," said Spargo. "But I didn't tell you that he was not only but robbed—robbed of a good deal. There's good to that he had securities, bank notes, diamonds, and other on him to the value of a large amount. He'd thousand when he left Coolumbidgee, in New South Wales, where he'd for some years."
Miss Baylis sourly.
"What's all this to me?" she asked.
"Possibly nothing. But you see, that money, those securities, may be recovered. And as the boy you speak of is dead, there surely must be somebody who's to the lot. It's having, Miss Baylis, and there's on the part of the police that it will turn up."
This was a of on the part of Spargo; he its with eyes. But Miss Baylis was adamant, and she looked as as ever.
"I say again what's all that to me?" she exclaimed.
"Well, but hadn't the boy any relatives on his father's side?" asked Spargo. "I know you're his aunt on the mother's side, and as you're perhaps, I can some on the other side. It's very easy to all these out, you know."
Miss Baylis, who had to to the house in and fashion, and had let Spargo see that this part of the was to her, paused in her and at the journalist.
"Easy to all these out?" she repeated.
Spargo caught, or he caught, a note of in her tone. He was quick to turn his to practical purpose.
"Oh, easy enough!" he said. "I out all about Maitland's family through that boy. Quite, easily!"
Miss Baylis had stopped now, and at him. "How?" she demanded.
"I'll tell you," said Spargo with alacrity. "It is, of course, the thing in the world to all about his life. I I can the register of his birth at Market Milcaster, and you, of course, will tell me where he died. By the by, when did he die, Miss Baylis?"
But Miss Baylis was going on again to the house.
"I shall tell you nothing more," she said angrily. "I've told you too much already, and I all you're here for is to some news for your paper. But I will, at any tell you this—when Maitland to prison his child would have been but for me; he'd have had to go to the but for me; he hadn't a single relation in the world but me, on either father's or mother's side. And at my age, old woman as I am, I'd my in the street, I'd and die, than touch a piece that had come from John Maitland! That's all."
Then without word, without to Spargo the way out, she in at the open window and disappeared. And Spargo, no other way, was about to her when he a in the by which they had stood, and the next moment a queer, cracked, voice, all of things, said and yet in a whisper:
"Young man!"
Spargo and at the him. It was thick and bushy, and in its full green, but it to him that he saw a shape behind. "Who's there?" he demanded. "Somebody listening?"
There was a of from the hedge; then the cracked, voice spoke again.
"Young man, don't you move or look as if you were talking to anybody. Do you know where the 'King of Madagascar' public-house is in this of the town, man?"
"No!" answered Spargo. "Certainly not!"
"Well, anybody'll tell you when you outside, man," the voice of the person. "Go there, and wait at the by the 'King of Madagascar,' and I'll come there to you at the end of an hour. Then I'll tell you something, man—I'll tell you something. Now away, man, away to the 'King of Madagascar'—I'm coming!"
The voice ended in low, which Spargo queer. But he was to be in love with adventure, and he on his without so much as a at the hedge, and across the garden and through the house, and let himself out at the door. And at the next of the square he met a and asked him if he where the "King of Madagascar" was.
"First to the right, second to the left," answered the tersely. "You can't miss it there—it's a landmark."
And Spargo the landmark—a great, square-built tavern—easily, and he waited at a of it what he was going to see, and about the owner of the voice, with all its of he not what. And there came up to him an old woman and at him in a fashion that him how old age may be.
Spargo had such an old woman as this in his life. She was respectably, than respectably. Her was good; her was smart; her smaller were good. But her was evil; it of a long to the bottle; the old and ogled, the old were wicked. Spargo a of almost to nausea, but he was going to what the old had to say and he not to look what he felt.
"Well?" he said, almost roughly. "Well?"
"Well, man, there you are," said his new acquaintance. "Let us go inside, man; there's a little place where a lady can and take her of gin—I'll you. And if you're good to me, I'll tell you something about that cat that you were talking to just now. But you'll give me a little to put in my pocket, man? Old ladies like me have a right to little comforts, you know, little comforts."
Spargo this person into a small within; the who came in response to a ring no at her presence; he also to know what she required, which was a of gin, sweetened, and warm. And Spargo her as with hand she pushed up the which little of her old face, and the to her mouth with a which was not thirst but pure of liquor. Almost he saw a new light into her eyes, and she laughed in a voice that with every she made.
"Ah, man!" she said with a of the that Spargo long to up and fly. "I wanted that! It's done me good. When I've that, you'll pay for another for me—and another? They'll do me still more good. And you'll give me a little of money, won't you, man?"
"Not till I know what I'm it for," Spargo.
"You'll be it I'm going to tell you that if it's my while I can tell you, or somebody that sent you, more about Jane Baylis than in the world. I'm not going to tell you that now, man—I'm sure you don't in your pocket what I shall want for my secret, not you, by the look of you! I'm only going to you that I have the secret. Eh?"
"Who are you?" asked Spargo.
The woman and chuckled. "What are you going to give me, man?" she asked.
Spargo put his in his pocket and out two half-sovereigns.
"Look here," he said, his the coins, "if you can tell me anything of you shall have these. But no trifling, now. And no of time. If you have anything to tell, out with it!"
The woman out a trembling, claw-like hand.
"But let me one of those, man!" she implored. "Let me one of the of gold. I shall tell you all the if I one of them. Let me—there's a good gentleman."
Spargo gave her one of the coins, and himself to his fate, it might be.
"You won't the other unless you tell something," he said. "Who are you, anyway?"
The woman, who had and over the half-sovereign, horribly.
"At the boarding-house yonder, man, they call me Mother Gutch," she answered; "but my proper name is Mrs. Sabina Gutch, and once upon a time I was a good-looking woman. And when my husband died I to Jane Baylis as housekeeper, and when she retired from that and came to live in that boarding-house where we live now, she was to me with her and to keep me. Why had she to do that, man?"
"Heaven knows!" answered Spargo.
"Because I've got a on her, man—I've got a of hers," Mother Gutch. "She'd be to death if she I'd been that and had what she said to you, and she'd be more than if she that you and I were here, talking. But she's hard and near with me, and she won't give me a to a of anything with, and an old woman like me has a right to her little comforts, and if you'll the secret, man, I'll on her, there and then, when you pay the money."
"Before I talk about any secret," said Spargo, "you'll have to prove to me that you've a to sell that's my buying."
"And I will prove it!" said Mother Gutch with fierceness. "Touch the bell, and let me have another glass, and then I'll tell you. Now," she on, more quietly—Spargo noticed that the more she drank, the more she became, and that her nerves to and her whole to be improved—"now, you came to her to out about her brother-in-law, Maitland, that to prison, didn't you?"
"Well?" Spargo.
"And about that boy of his?" she continued.
"You all that was said," answered Spargo. "I'm waiting to what you have to say."
But Mother Gutch was in having her own way. She her questions:
"And she told you that Maitland came and asked for the boy, and that she told him the boy was dead, didn't she?" she on.
"Well?" said Spargo despairingly. "She did. What then?"
Mother Gutch took an at her and knowingly. "What then?" she chuckled. "All lies, man, the boy isn't dead—any more than I am. And my is—"
"Well?" Spargo impatiently. "What is it?"
"This!" answered Mother Gutch, her in the ribs, "I know what she did with him!"
