Free SV - 05 - Sergeant Verity and the Swell Mob. by Francis Selwyn

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device for this, a centre-bit which operated on the principle of a pair of
compasses. A centre spike held the tool in position. Then, turning a large
handle in a clockwise direction, the burglar drew the cutting bit round and
round the perimeter. In ten minutes a practised criminal would reach the
bolts. If necessary he would cut out the lock as well.
    The man's face was hidden at
first, but then he paused and mopped his cheeks with a handkerchief. Verity
knew him at once as Blind Charley, so called from his habit of working at night
and also from a begging dodge which he had once resorted to when times were
hard.
    Charley cleared the second
hole and his hand had gone through to find the bolt when Verity tapped him on
the shoulder.
    'If I was a cruel man,
Charley, as some think I am, I’d a-let you get in there and then nabbed you
coming out with the sparklers. As it is, they can't give you more than attempted robbery. Looking at it all
sides up, you got a lot to be thankful for that it was me come along just
now.'
    Stringfellow
spat on a harness brass and polished it with his sleeve.
    'Prophecies!'
he said disdainfully. 'No one ever prophesied anything for me. Nothing of any
bloody use, that is. You might a-asked this cove which of them nags is going to
win Lord Bristol's plate at Brighton races. Now that's something like!'
    'But
if it ain't real fortune-telling,' said Verity persistently, ‘Where's the
point? Villains is always ready for a caper, but not this. See Vicki Hartle let
herself be caught hoisting watches so's someone's prophecy can come true? Six
years of it if she gets a day? Course she wouldn't! And Blind Charley? Shaved
head and oatmeal diet for seven or ten? He let himself be took to fulfil
someone's predictions? It don't answer, Stringfellow! It never don't.'
    Stringfellow
pummelled the brass against his sleeve. He paused to draw a long sup from the
glass of dark beer on the kitchen table of the Tidy Street lodgings.
    'What do rile me,' he said,
'is them things said about Miss Bella! I don't let that pass!'
    'I
seen through that, Stringfellow,' said Verity calmly. 'They got it wrong. My
consort, he called her. You know what? They seen me working with Miss Jolly and
took her for my young person!'
    'Well I never!'
said Stringfellow, visibly impressed.
    Verity dropped his
voice to a more dramatic tone.
    'And what it do mean, Mr
Stringfellow, is this. I been watched ever since I come to Brighton. That's how
they twigged me with Jolly. More 'n that. Two cunning villains have gone to
gaol for years and years, just so's bigger fish than they can pull some caper
or other. And look at the bother they go so so I can have me future told! I
dunno yet what's behind all of it. But I ain't been set up like this unless
it's worth a king's ransom to someone.'
    Stringfellow
nodded and thought about the problem. Presently he looked up, toothless and
expectant.
    'Course,' he said, 'you might
hear no more. But if you should have to do with that fortune-telling cove
again, there weren't no harm to ask him about them runners in the Bristol
Plate.'
     
     
     
     
     
    6
    Verity, Meiklejohn
and four constables of the Brighton force stood in the high-walled yard of the
Town Hall. They were all dressed in the frock-coats and plain hats of
'private-clothes'. Positioned at ease, awaiting the arrival of a senior
officer, the men talked surreptitiously to one another from the corners of
their mouths.
    'Meiklejohn!'
said Verity, keeping his eyes in front of him. 'What the 'ell's this Brunswick
Square detail, then?'
    ‘Dunno,'
said Meiklejohn innocendy. 'Standing outside them big houses where the swells
live. Seeing they ain't disturbed. Touching yer hat and opening the carriage
door for persons of quality.'
    'That
ain't work for detective officers, Mr Meiklejohn, and you know it! Why us,
anyway?'
    ‘Mr Croaker,' said Meiklejohn.
"We're in his little book. Me for causing a rumpus over that bitch Helen
Jacoby. And you got right